“Oh, I love that. I haven’t read that book yet. I should check it out.”
“You definitely should.”
“So I guess this is the part where we’re supposed to bond by sharing earth-shattering truths about ourselves.”
“Yeah?” He tightens his hold on me and nuzzles my neck. “I thought we bonded all right.”
I flick him on his side, making him chuckle. “Not that type of bonding, you pervert. I’ll start. I love the smell of wet grass and old books. I’m a die-hard Janeite and I love dogs.” I chuckle, remembering Jalina. “When I was a little girl, my mom found a mutt puppy abandoned in a cardboard box in the empty lot behind our house. She was going to take it to a shelter, but my dad told her to give the puppy to me instead. Anyway, I named her Jalina. My nanny told me that I would dress her in my mom’s clothes and put makeup on her, and the poor dog wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. God, I loved her so much. She was my best friend.”
He kisses my bare shoulder before he grabs a strand of black hair and twirls it in his fingers. “What happened to Jalina, and what’s a Janeite?”
“Old age,” I say, feeling the familiar pang in my chest whenever I think of her. It’s been nine years since she passed away and not a day goes by when I don’t miss her. “And a Janeite is basically someone who’s obsessed with anything about and related to Jane Austen. Okay, your turn.”
“Let’s see … the details are muddled because it’s been so long, but one of my favorite memories is of my mom holding her camera and taking pictures of my father while he painted Jackie’s bedroom a light pink. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I think that’s when my love for photography was born.”
“How old were you when your …” I hesitate.
He finishes the question for me. “When my parents passed away? I was seven. They dropped me off at school because it was snowing and they didn’t want me to take the bus since the roads were covered in ice. They never made it back.”
My heart breaks for the little boy that he was. “I’m so sorry, Ronan.”
“It’s okay, it’s been a very long time. I just hate the fact that I have to look at their pictures to remember their faces. It’s not fair, you know? They were so full of life, so fucking beautiful, and now all that’s left of them are frozen and lifeless images on paper. By staring at those pictures, you would never know that my mom had the sweetest laugh and always smelled like cookies. And you would never know that my father loved to take Mom and Jackie in his arms and twirl them around the living room. Anyway,” he smiles, a trace of sadness lingering in his gaze, “I have one more. Ready?” He tugs the strand of my hair wrapped around his finger, pulling me closer to him, and biting my lower lip.
I nod, lost in his eyes, in him.
“I met a girl and I’m crazy about her.”
“Crazy, huh?” Fighting a smile from escaping, I lean over and rest my cheek on his chest as the beat of his heart fills my ears with music. “I hope she’s nice.”
He squeezes my ass with his hand. “She’s all right. Can’t keep her hands off of me though. But what can I say? Chicks dig me.”
I push my body slightly away from his and smack him on his flat stomach. “Asshole. Chicks dig—”
Ronan laughs before silencing me with a kiss. When we pull apart, the air charged with electricity, we stare at each other without saying a word. We let the comfortable silence fill the space between his walls as we soak up the sensation of being in the arms of one another. Nothing has ever felt this right before.
“For what it’s worth, I think your parents would be very proud of the man you’ve become, Ronan, and I mean it,” I say hoarsely. “And now you can stop looking at me like that.”
“Why?”
He looks so handsome with his lips all swollen because of my kisses and his hair all wild because of my hands.
“Why what?”
Letting go of me, Ronan rests the side of his body on his elbow and cradles his cheek in the palm of his hand. With his free one, he caresses the side of my face tenderly. “Why do you want me to stop?”
“Because.” I feel myself blushing and I hate it. “You’re looking at me funny.”
And he is. His eyes are … I can’t explain it. It makes my stomach flutter. It makes me yearn for things that I don’t want, things I don’t have the luxury to feel.
“And how is that?”
I’m quiet for a moment.
“I can’t really say … I don’t know.”
He smiles, and there’s so much tenderness behind it that it shatters me. “You don’t know or you can’t say?”
“Oh my God … just stop!”
I hide my face in the pillow and groan. When I hear him laugh at my reaction, I turn to look at him, murder written in my eyes. How dare he? “Are you laughing at me?”
Humor leaves his face, a serious, thoughtful expression now in its place. “I’m looking at you because, right now, that’s all I want to do.”
And that, ladies and gents, is what I call a knockout.
If I were a cartoon, I’d be lying on the floor with hearts and cupids twirling around my head. But there’s a voice inside my head warning me that this thing between Ronan and me is becoming very dangerous. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone who makes me feel—someone who could easily make me fall madly in love with him.
I know I should be afraid of what he makes me feel, of how much he makes me want to change, to be a better person, even try to become whatever he needs me to be. I should be afraid because he makes me want to let go of my fears, my hang-ups. He makes me want to give my whole self to him just as he has given himself to me. I hunger for the feeling I get when I’m with him because it almost fools me into believing I am the Blaire that he wants.
“What’s the matter, babe?” Ronan must see the fear reflected in my eyes.
“Nothing … I’m just happy. You make me very happy,” I lie, kissing him under the chin.
He’s about to speak, but I stop him, placing my fingers on his mouth. “Shhh … don’t say another word.” I push myself closer to him, grab his hardness in my hand and stroke it, feeling the veins of his cock throb in my palm. “Fuck me, Ronan. I need you again.”
“Your wish is my command.”
I laugh. “How obliging of you.”
“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, after all,” the ass says, a devilish grin on his face as he reaches for a foil package.
Ronan kneels in front of me, pumping his dick in his hand as I spread my legs open and let him watch me begin to touch myself. I push my fingers shallowly into me and coat them with my desire for him and what’s to come.
“Christ. You’re beautiful.”
He leans over me, his mouth finding mine. Placing one hand on the bedframe for support, the other seeks my swollen warmth, pulsing with fire for him …
Just a few more dates.
Just a few more days of paradise.
And then this will all be over. I have to end it.
There won’t be any real harm done as long as I don’t let him get any closer to me than he already has. He’ll forget about me and move on. As they all have. Like they always do.
“You definitely should.”
“So I guess this is the part where we’re supposed to bond by sharing earth-shattering truths about ourselves.”
“Yeah?” He tightens his hold on me and nuzzles my neck. “I thought we bonded all right.”
I flick him on his side, making him chuckle. “Not that type of bonding, you pervert. I’ll start. I love the smell of wet grass and old books. I’m a die-hard Janeite and I love dogs.” I chuckle, remembering Jalina. “When I was a little girl, my mom found a mutt puppy abandoned in a cardboard box in the empty lot behind our house. She was going to take it to a shelter, but my dad told her to give the puppy to me instead. Anyway, I named her Jalina. My nanny told me that I would dress her in my mom’s clothes and put makeup on her, and the poor dog wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. God, I loved her so much. She was my best friend.”
He kisses my bare shoulder before he grabs a strand of black hair and twirls it in his fingers. “What happened to Jalina, and what’s a Janeite?”
“Old age,” I say, feeling the familiar pang in my chest whenever I think of her. It’s been nine years since she passed away and not a day goes by when I don’t miss her. “And a Janeite is basically someone who’s obsessed with anything about and related to Jane Austen. Okay, your turn.”
“Let’s see … the details are muddled because it’s been so long, but one of my favorite memories is of my mom holding her camera and taking pictures of my father while he painted Jackie’s bedroom a light pink. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I think that’s when my love for photography was born.”
“How old were you when your …” I hesitate.
He finishes the question for me. “When my parents passed away? I was seven. They dropped me off at school because it was snowing and they didn’t want me to take the bus since the roads were covered in ice. They never made it back.”
My heart breaks for the little boy that he was. “I’m so sorry, Ronan.”
“It’s okay, it’s been a very long time. I just hate the fact that I have to look at their pictures to remember their faces. It’s not fair, you know? They were so full of life, so fucking beautiful, and now all that’s left of them are frozen and lifeless images on paper. By staring at those pictures, you would never know that my mom had the sweetest laugh and always smelled like cookies. And you would never know that my father loved to take Mom and Jackie in his arms and twirl them around the living room. Anyway,” he smiles, a trace of sadness lingering in his gaze, “I have one more. Ready?” He tugs the strand of my hair wrapped around his finger, pulling me closer to him, and biting my lower lip.
I nod, lost in his eyes, in him.
“I met a girl and I’m crazy about her.”
“Crazy, huh?” Fighting a smile from escaping, I lean over and rest my cheek on his chest as the beat of his heart fills my ears with music. “I hope she’s nice.”
He squeezes my ass with his hand. “She’s all right. Can’t keep her hands off of me though. But what can I say? Chicks dig me.”
I push my body slightly away from his and smack him on his flat stomach. “Asshole. Chicks dig—”
Ronan laughs before silencing me with a kiss. When we pull apart, the air charged with electricity, we stare at each other without saying a word. We let the comfortable silence fill the space between his walls as we soak up the sensation of being in the arms of one another. Nothing has ever felt this right before.
“For what it’s worth, I think your parents would be very proud of the man you’ve become, Ronan, and I mean it,” I say hoarsely. “And now you can stop looking at me like that.”
“Why?”
He looks so handsome with his lips all swollen because of my kisses and his hair all wild because of my hands.
“Why what?”
Letting go of me, Ronan rests the side of his body on his elbow and cradles his cheek in the palm of his hand. With his free one, he caresses the side of my face tenderly. “Why do you want me to stop?”
“Because.” I feel myself blushing and I hate it. “You’re looking at me funny.”
And he is. His eyes are … I can’t explain it. It makes my stomach flutter. It makes me yearn for things that I don’t want, things I don’t have the luxury to feel.
“And how is that?”
I’m quiet for a moment.
“I can’t really say … I don’t know.”
He smiles, and there’s so much tenderness behind it that it shatters me. “You don’t know or you can’t say?”
“Oh my God … just stop!”
I hide my face in the pillow and groan. When I hear him laugh at my reaction, I turn to look at him, murder written in my eyes. How dare he? “Are you laughing at me?”
Humor leaves his face, a serious, thoughtful expression now in its place. “I’m looking at you because, right now, that’s all I want to do.”
And that, ladies and gents, is what I call a knockout.
If I were a cartoon, I’d be lying on the floor with hearts and cupids twirling around my head. But there’s a voice inside my head warning me that this thing between Ronan and me is becoming very dangerous. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone who makes me feel—someone who could easily make me fall madly in love with him.
I know I should be afraid of what he makes me feel, of how much he makes me want to change, to be a better person, even try to become whatever he needs me to be. I should be afraid because he makes me want to let go of my fears, my hang-ups. He makes me want to give my whole self to him just as he has given himself to me. I hunger for the feeling I get when I’m with him because it almost fools me into believing I am the Blaire that he wants.
“What’s the matter, babe?” Ronan must see the fear reflected in my eyes.
“Nothing … I’m just happy. You make me very happy,” I lie, kissing him under the chin.
He’s about to speak, but I stop him, placing my fingers on his mouth. “Shhh … don’t say another word.” I push myself closer to him, grab his hardness in my hand and stroke it, feeling the veins of his cock throb in my palm. “Fuck me, Ronan. I need you again.”
“Your wish is my command.”
I laugh. “How obliging of you.”
“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, after all,” the ass says, a devilish grin on his face as he reaches for a foil package.
Ronan kneels in front of me, pumping his dick in his hand as I spread my legs open and let him watch me begin to touch myself. I push my fingers shallowly into me and coat them with my desire for him and what’s to come.
“Christ. You’re beautiful.”
He leans over me, his mouth finding mine. Placing one hand on the bedframe for support, the other seeks my swollen warmth, pulsing with fire for him …
Just a few more dates.
Just a few more days of paradise.
And then this will all be over. I have to end it.
There won’t be any real harm done as long as I don’t let him get any closer to me than he already has. He’ll forget about me and move on. As they all have. Like they always do.
