Page 4

“Mal is with Bedford. So, her help is useless.” His eyes roam down my body slowly, his jaw clenching. “And you’re not going to ask Boone for help, are you?” he asks, glancing back at me with a hardened gaze.
Ask Boone for help? I would rather break my arm trying to get it done.
Instead of answering, I gulp down the thick lump and turn around slowly, facing the mirror. Ronan is a few steps back, but stands tall behind me. I glance at my feet, pulling my hair around to the front, exposing my back. I chose to straighten my hair, leaving it silky and resting at the center of my spine. My mother was particular about the care of my hair. She said, “it doesn’t matter your hair type as long as it’s healthy, and the ends are trimmed.” And I did just that.
Ronan’s dress shoes skits across the floor, stopping behind me. His heat so illuminating it surrounds my being. Unless that’s only my body temperature rising.
He tosses the mask onto the sofa next to the mirror, his eyes still pierced on mine.
Ronan brushes the rest of the strands from my hair to the front. His fingers delicately stroke across my neck and shoulders, sending more goosebumps to trail down my arms and thighs. My lips part slightly as I watch him through the mirror. He focused his gaze on my hair momentarily before leaning in and taking a breath. With closed eyes, he inhales my hair, threading his fingers through my strands to bring it closer to his nose and lips. He doesn't even care that I'm witnessing him become lost in the scent of me. I could push him away—I should. Just to keep my smell to myself, but...I like it; in fact, Icravehis vicinity even when I shouldn't. I shouldn't want him near me. I should despise someone being so close to me. But with him, any care and boundaries that I held up no longer exist when he's the one knocking them down.
Ronan opens his eyes slowly, and he sets them on me. Shivers rush up my back as the energy between us grows tenser by the minute. Yet, neither of us speaks. He takes his sweet time, gliding his finger down to the opening of the zipper and to the dip of my back, touching my skin. It's barely visible, but I shudder, nearly closing my eyes.
I don’t. He would see the effect his touch does on me. A touch that is so precious, you would question how a man like him could become so gentle.
“How was your night?” Ronan asks in his native language as the zipper slowly rises inch by inch. Purposely prolonging it. My eyes shoot to his already piercing stare as my chest caves in from the sudden question.
Memories of my fingers deep in my walls, my head pounding and spinning like a merry-go-round, and Ronan's name leaving my lips as the orgasm attacked my entire body. Was he watching? Does he know?
Paranoia is a bitch.
Just...be cool. “It was good,” I say, breathlessly. Not leaving his gaze. Sweat forms on my neck. “How was yours?”
A glint shadows over before it changes quickly. “Good.”
I nod, shifting my eyes down again.
He continues, “Anything exciting?” Zip.
I flicker back to him; he’s narrowing in on me with those deep golden eyes, searching for a place in my soul I’ll never let him find. I purse my lips as the sounds of my moans filter through my mind. The sweat that formed on my skin, the way my legs shook because the hit was so damn good. “No.” I shift on my feet, causing his fingers to graze and press into my back. “Besides Wicked coming over and nearly getting alcohol poisoning, but that’s all.” I sound convincing enough.
He gives a light smirk, but his dimples are still bold and deep. He looks down behind me. I'm sure he’s looking at my ass. “Anything with Mal will always end up either with a headache or your body completely numb.”
Zip. Zip.
I grin. “Yes, that is true. But it wasn’t so bad.”
He finally lands at the top of my dress, but doesn't move his hand. “I’m relieved to see you two put your differences aside.”
I tilt my head as I look at my dress. “Yes, I guess we have.” Being around Wicked Mal makes me understand I can enjoy life even in the darkest of circumstances. I think I’ll miss her when I leave.
He nods slowly before sweeping my hair back behind me. He’s smooth with his touch, sure to glide his warm hand across the base of my neck and to my shoulder. The back of his hand skims down my arm, stopping at my wrist, then he roams back up to my shoulder. What is he doing? I shouldn't allow him to touch me after pushing me away. Yet, I refuse to nudge him, I...enjoy his touch too much; it awakens something inside of me that was lost for a long, long time. Now all I can imagine is his lips softly kissing my exposed skin, then trailing his delicious tongue up before biting me brutally.
Ronan leans over, pressing himself into me, letting me feelallof him. My breath escapes. What are you doing? I want to say but the words stick to my tongue. I only watch as his lips tease over the curves of my ear, immediately causing my nerves to tremble and a warm moisture to pool between my thighs.
“Nothing is more exquisite than you, little snake,” he whispers in his language, and a part of me wishes I never told him I understand him fluently. Whenever he speaks to me in Portuguese, it only flaps the horrific butterflies in my belly and sends tingles up my neck. It makes me more compulsive than ever; my whole body betrays me when he does that.
An invisible grip snakes around my throat. I’m at a loss for words today; nothing seems to be working in my favor. I can't even spat at him for his mindfucking games. I’m just compelled by him, hazed, like he has me under his spell.
“All done,” he says huskily, filling the room with sounds apart from the soft pants escaping me. With that, he runs his palm down the curve of my waist seductively before squeezing gently, eyeing me for a second too long before backing away. He grabs his mask off the couch. “I’ll see you at the party.” A tiny, yet strange, grin lifts on the side of his mouth. “Sweet Venom.”
He walks out, leaving me alone, shivering with the lust I thought I scrubbed away earlier.
Only then, I finally release that breath that seemed to stay trapped.