Page 177 of Lady and the Hitman

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice thick with possession, “and I’m yours, Zara. Always.” The words sent a jolt through me, my body arching to meet him, my legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. The bed creaked beneath us, the room filled with the sounds of our need—moans, gasps, the obscene beauty of skin against skin.

I felt the pressure building, a coil of heat tightening in my core, and his hand slid between us, his fingers finding my clit, circling with a precision that made me tremble.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear, his voice raw with devotion. “Let me feel you.” My body obeyed, the pleasure cresting sharp and overwhelming, and I came with a cry, my body shuddering around him, messy and breathless and utterly undone.

He followed, his release a low groan against my skin, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside me, our climaxes intertwining, a shared surrender that felt like forever.

We collapsed, tangled in sweat and sheets and silence, his arms wrapping around me. His lips brushed my forehead, my temple, and we lay there, our breaths mingling, the world outside forgotten. We didn’t speak for a long time, didn’t need to. His heartbeat against my cheek was enough, a steady rhythm that promised he was mine, and I was his, no matter what came next.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft but sure. “I’ll build you that house, Zara. Every room, every corner, just for us.” His fingers traced lazy circles on my back, his eyes searching mine. “Are you ready for that?”

I looked at him, the man who’d walked away from death for me, who’d saved my father’s life and made me feel seen in ways I’d never dared hope. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice steady with certainty. “I choose you, Ronan Hale. Forever.”

His smile was slow, devastating, and he kissed me, deep and unhurried. “Good,” he murmured against my lips. “Because I’m going to fuck you in every room of that house—on the kitchen counter, against the living room windows, in the shower with the water running over us. Every inch of it will be ours, marked by you, by me, by this.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I pulled him closer, knowing I’d chosen not just him, but a life where every moment would burn as brightly as this one.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that.

Hours, maybe.

At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep because I woketo the sound of birds outside and the weight of Ronan’s arm across my stomach.

He was still there.

Still holding me.

Still choosing me.

I turned my head slowly.

His eyes were already open.

“You watching me sleep?” I asked, voice rough with sleep and sex and something sweeter.

“Yes.”

“Creep.”

A twitch of his mouth. “You snore.”

“Liar.”

Another twitch. “You talk in your sleep.”

I stiffened. “What did I say?”

He brushed his fingers over my collarbone. “You said my name.”

Heat flushed through me.

Then, quieter, he added, “You said ‘don’t leave.’”

My throat tightened. “I won’t ask you to stay if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”