Page 114 of Lady and the Hitman

My brow lifted. “That’s vague.”

“Purposefully.”

I waited.

He didn’t elaborate.

Of course, he didn’t.

“You work nights?”

“Sometimes.”

“Weekends?”

“When necessary.”

“Do you travel often?”

His eyes met mine. “When I’m needed.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

The awareness settled over me. He wasn’t a man who answered questions. He was a man who asked them. And he was very good at making sure people didn’t ask back.

“Do I get to know anything about your life?” I asked, not quite teasing.

“You already do,” he said. “You just haven’t connected the pieces yet.”

The waiter returned then, breaking the spell, laying plates between us.

I ate because I had to. But my focus stayed on Ronan.

Every move he made. Every calculated breath. Every unreadable glance that only made me want to know more.

He watched me, too.

Like he was trying to memorize the way I held my fork. The way I licked sauce from my fingertip. The way I sighed when the wine hit just right.

“Are you always this intense?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. Just tilted his head and said, “You’re still flushed.”

“Am I?”

“You’re turned on.”

I swallowed hard. “We’re in public.”

His voice dropped. “Barely.”

The restaurant might’ve been dimly lit and tucked away, but there were still people—other diners, waitstaff, eyes. Still, it wasn’t the first time.

Miami Beach flashed behind my eyes.

The feel of the sun on my bare skin. The taste of salt on my lips. His mouth between my thighs, hidden only by the angle of the dunes. It had been reckless, dangerous. Completely unhinged. But I hadn’t cared. Not when his tongue was on me. Not when the world blurred around the edges and I shattered on his breath.

I’d never been that bold before him.