Page 5

Ronan

“ W oah, what the fuck?” I say as my hand catches the bathroom door just inches before it slams into my face.

“Oh, shit, I-I’m sorry.”

A pair of red-rimmed deep blue eyes peek around the corner, catching mine, and time itself freezes, like someone clicked pause on a remote or something.

Standing in front of me is the embodiment of darkness itself, a vision I’ve only ever seen in my dreams.

It’s her .

My dream girl.

Except she’s covered in dirt, small cuts cover her body like she was just dragged through a graveyard. Her clothes are torn, small holes revealing crimson-coated gashes. My hands clench at my side as I wonder if any of this was her choice.

“Um, excuse me,” she states flatly, her voice void of any emotion, completely empty.

I don’t say a thing, I just stare at her, unwilling to believe that I’m anything but tucked in my bed right now, dreaming. But I know I’m not.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” She slams her hands into my chest, pushing against me with what I would assume is all her force by the way she grunts as her hands make contact with me.

Stepping to the side, she loses what little balance she has left. Before she can fall, I reach my hand out and brace for the impact. Her soft tummy presses into my forearm, my hand just barely grazing the top of her hip.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch me,” she growls at me .

Oh, she’s feisty .

It’s one of those warnings that seeps into your bones and tells you this girl has been through so much more than she would ever let on.

I remove my hand and begin to back up, raising both of them in front of me as a sign of submission. I smirk at her, holding back a chuckle as she rolls her eyes and turns to leave.

I watch her fat ass jiggle beneath that too fucking short skirt as she walks towards the parking lot. Bruised and bloody but still fucking feisty.

Holy fucking hell .

She’s lucky I have enough self-control to stop myself from dragging her by that long red-black hair right to my car, but she’s not ready for me to fight back.

Not yet .