Page 148 of Ghosts Don't Cry

I kiss her,hard, sucking her lower lip into my mouth before biting down just enough to make her moan. My fingers slide inside her, curling, and she gasps, nails digging into my biceps.

“Ronan.”

“Your mom is just down the hall.” My thumb circles her clit. “Don’t think she wants to hear her daughter coming all over my fingers.” My voice drops lower. “Or maybe this is what you wanted? Do you want me to lose my mind in the middle of your mom’s house?”

Her fingers fist into my shirt. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Her admission makes me laugh. Of course she fucking does. This woman knows exactly what to do to turn me on. Not that it takes much. All she has to do is look at me, and I’m considering the quickest way to get her naked.

I pull my fingers free, and take a step back, then pull the dress over her head. Her bra follows, and I take a moment to appreciate the way she looks. Her skin is flushed, nipples beaded, pussy … well, that’s a temptation I can’t ignore.

My fingers trace down her sides, while my mouth finds her throat, biting and sucking a path down to her breasts. My tongue flicks over her nipple, dragging a stifled moan from her. I drop to my knees, force her legs apart with my shoulders, and use my thumbs to spread her open.

“Of all the things I’m thankful for …” I rock back on my heels to look up at her. “This tops the list.”

The first swipe of my tongue over her clit brings her hands to the top of my head. The second sends her nails scratching over my scalp. And then she’s rocking forward, writhing againstmy mouth, chasing my tongue, taking everything I give her. My fingers push inside her. First one, then two, a third, and she whimpers, pressing a hand over her lips to muffle the sounds she makes.

I take her to the edge, once … twice … then while she’s quivering, shaking, pleading, I pull away and stand up.

“You like torturing me, Phare?” My voice is rough, teasing, as I spin her to face the door, and push a finger back inside her.

“Ronan, please.” She pushes against my hand, her head falling back.

I tangle my free hand into her hair, and pull her face around so I can kiss her, my fingers working her pussy until she’s shaking with the need to come. Only then, do I reach down to free my dick. Her hand reaches back, wrapping around me, and stroking. I pull her off me, pin her wrists above her head, and kiss a path down her throat.

“Not this time, baby.” I reach down between us, line my dick up, and slam home in one deep thrust.

She tries to muffle her cries by pressing her mouth against her arm.

“Is this what you were thinking about when you took that photograph?” I pull almost all the way out, then slam back in again.

She whimpers. “Yes.”

“Were you desperate for me?”

A broken sound escapes her lips. She’s close. I can feel it in the way she’s tensing around me. I pin her harder against the door, grinding into her the way I know she likes.

“Do you want to come?”

“Please.”

My hand covers her breast, my fingers pinch her nipple, and then drop down to find her clit, teasing and stroking until she’s writhing, unable to keep the sounds she’s making quiet.

When she finally shatters, her body clenching around mine, it triggers my own orgasm. I follow her over the edge, groaning against her skin as I spill everything inside her.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our panting breaths. Then she laughs, the sound ragged. “You’re welcome.”

I ease out of her, looking around for something she can use to clean up the mess I left inside her. There’s a box of tissues on the dresser. I grab a handful and press them between her legs, helping her clean up.

And standing there, trying to catch my breath, looking at the gorgeous woman in front of me, I come to a decision. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment. The right time. The romantic gesture she deserves. But the ring has been burning a hole in my pocket for three months because I hadn’t found the right moment yet.

This is us. Real and messy and perfect.

I reach into my pocket and drop to one knee.

She looks at me, still laughing. “I don’t think I can go another round, not?—”

Her expression changes. She stills. Her lips part, and her eyes lock on the small velvet box in my hand.