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RONAN

T he spot beside me is empty and cold as I slowly come awake in Nicky’s bed.

But I hear footsteps on the wooden floors and instantly, I smile.

I sit up and watch Nicky climb the stairs to the loft-style bedroom, a tray of breakfast in her hands. “Good morning, Hockey Guy.”

She approaches the side of the bed, barefoot and wearing nothing but that Saints pajama shirt, her curls wet out of the shower. She looks so goddamned hot.

“Shit. Get over here.” I stretch my arms out to her.

She hands me the tray but I slide it onto the bedside table and pull her into my arms. “You made me breakfast? What did I do to get so lucky today?”

She snuggles against me, grinning. “Well, you worked hard last night. Giving me three orgasms must have burned a lot of energy.”

I shrug it off. “Ugh! Just doing my job.”

She buries her face in my neck, breathing me in and chuckling. “Well, your efforts are appreciated, sir.”

We perch against the pillows and I grab the tray. Talking and laughing, we dive into breakfast and I can’t get enough of Nicky’s special sandwich. No matter how many times she makes it, I feel like I can eat it every day.

Through the large windows, I catch sight of a guy in a postal service uniform approaching the guesthouse with a large box in his hands.

Nicky frowns. “Are you expecting a package here?”

I shove bread in my mouth to hide my smile. “Me? Why would I be expecting a package here?”

Before the doorbell can even ring, Nicky is tugging on some pants and rushing down the stairs. I swing my legs out of bed and follow her.

“Delivery for Nicky Westbrook,” the postal guy says when she opens the door.

“Thank you.” She accepts the box, thoroughly inspecting the shipping label.

Meanwhile, the delivery guy thoroughly inspects her legs.

I clear my throat loudly from where I’m standing on the bottom step, watching it all go down.

The guy jumps backwards, hand held up in surrender. “Sorry, man.”

He’d better be. Nicky is my pretend girlfriend. Mine. I’m not sharing.

Then he glances down at his tablet, looking confused. “I know this is not standard protocol but someone must have paid a big tip because it says here that I’m…supposed to read…a poem?”

I watch the back of Nicky’s head as it angles to the side. “A poem?”

He begins. “Roses are red. Violets are blue. Your bum is a peach. And I like you.”

Nicky’s neck spins around violently like in one of those exorcism movies. “Ronan…what did you do?” She starts laughing.

The postal guy laughs, too.

I glare at him as I walk across the room and grip the door, ready to shut it. “Okay, thanks. Your services are no longer needed, buddy.”

“Sheesh,” he says to me before smiling at Nicky. “Have a nice day.”

“Have a nice day.” She thanks him and then he’s gone.

I close the door and follow Nicky to the kitchen island where she sets down the box. Like an excited kid, she tears through the packaging and lifts the flaps. When she moves the delicate tissue paper aside, her hands cover her gaping mouth.

My heart dances.

Her eyes flick to mine, blurry and heavy with tears. “Ronan…” she whispers.

I come up beside her, unreasonably proud of myself. “Come on. Open it.”

With shaking hands, Nicky carefully lifts the lacy wine-colored dress from the box. The flowy fabric unfurls with a magical flourish and Nicky’s eyes absolutely glitter. “You…How did you…I can’t believe…”

I just shrug. “I saw you fall in love with it the day you tried it on at Wisteria and Grace . I just couldn’t forget the look on your face. I wanted to see that look again.” I pinch her chin between my fingers, letting my gaze touch each corner of her face. “Yeah. That’s the look. Right here.”

Nicky loops an arm around my neck to pull me closer. And then she kisses me. “Thank you…”

I go over and flip the switch, closing the motorized blinds and shutting out the world. “Try it on. I wanna see your hot little body in it again.”

Without hesitating, Nicky drops her pants. She pulls the pajama shirt over her head and tosses it, letting her glorious breasts bounce free, round and perky and the perfect fit for my palms.

Just that quick flash of her sweet body in nothing but her itty bitty black boy shorts nearly knocks my feet from under me. I prop myself against the back of the couch and watch her carefully shimmy the dress up her luscious curves. I feel like I’m going to come in my pants watching that delicate lace dragging and flowing against her pale, smooth skin.

“What do you think?” she asks me, doing a little spin, her arms held out at her sides.

The neckline of the dress dips low to her waist, showing off the swell of her breasts. The flowy lace hugs her waist tight and a long slit reaches dangerously high up her thigh. Nicky in this dress could bring me to my knees.

I approach her, putting my hands on her hips. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. If you’re the last sight I ever lay eyes on for the rest of my life, I’d die a happy man.”

Nicky fans her cheeks. “Ooh! Casanova, go easy on my panties. It’s laundry day. I’m wearing my last clean pair.”

Laughing, I cover her lips in a kiss. “Then I think we should probably take the panties off.”

She nods. “I think you’re right.”

I help her out of the dress. My eyes stay on her asscheeks peeking out the bottom of her panties as she turns and lays it back in the box.

Then she spins to me, her small hands kneading my shoulders. “You’re the best practice boyfriend a girl could hope for. You’re setting the bar so high, it’s starting to worry me.”

“Worry you?” I hike a brow.

She smiles. It’s a little bit sad. “I might just end up staying single for the rest of my life if no one can live up to you.”

Or you could just be mine.

“I told you. You shouldn’t settle, Nicky. In any area of your life. You deserve the best of everything, Nicky. If you were my girlfriend, I’d make sure you always remember that.”

She stands on her tiptoes and kisses the base of my neck. Her bare curves squish against my torso. “Well, thank you. I love the dress.”

“I’m happy,” I say, going willingly as she gently pushes me backwards.

The flutter of her breath causes tingles at my groin. “And you’re about to get even happier.” She pushes me down on the couch cushions.

“Really?” I chuckle low in my throat.

Her head bobs as she drops to her knees, peeling my pants and boxers to the floor. “If you were my boyfriend, this is exactly how I’d thank you.”

Nicky takes my hard shaft in one hand while her other hand cups and tickles my balls. Legs spread wide, I drop my head along the back of the couch, gripping the rough fabric in my hands. Nicky’s mouth wraps around me. She uses her lips and her tongue and the back of her throat to appreciate me.

And boy, do I feel appreciated. I feel lucky. I feel touched by a freaking angel.

Not only to be the man she’s blowing on her knees. But simply to be the man she spends time with, the man she smiles at, the man she yells at when I’m being an idiot. The man she makes breakfast for and puts on private fashion shows for.

Will I be okay when our time together is over? Will I ever recover from Nicky Westbrook?

I don’t quite get an answer to that question. Because now, Nicky’s mouth pops off my cock. “I want you inside me…” she whispers, her eyes hazy with need.

“Yeah, baby. Come here.” I grab her waist, helping her straddle me.

One second before she slides down, I halt. “Fuck. Condom.”

Nicky bites her lip. “I don’t have any over here.”

“I’m pretty sure we ran out back at the main house, too.” My eyes search her face. “But I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone since I met you.”

“I’m clean, too,” she says, her eyes still clouded with worry. “But I haven’t been great about taking the pill everyday. Our schedule has been so crazy.”

I stroke her lower back. “It’s okay. I’ll be careful. I’ll pull out.”

“You promise?” she asks, vulnerable. She knows she’s placing something precious in my hands.

My palm cups her cheek and I look into her eyes, earnest and sincere. “I promise you, Nicky.”

Leaning forward, she kisses my lips. “I trust you. Fuck me, Ronan.”

Clenching her hips, I guide Nicky down my bare shaft, until she’s fully seated on me and her walls are squeezing and shuddering.

My forehead falls her her collarbone. “My god. You feel so fucking good, Nicky.” I’m struggling to breathe. Her warmth, her slickness.

“Yes…yes, fuck.” Holding my head to her chest, she slides her fingers into my hair and she starts to move.

I lock my arms around her, pumping my hips from below. I find myself growing more frantic with each wet slap of my pelvis against hers. I feel the way her clit rubs against me as we move. She meets every thrust with her own and I’ve never felt more in sync with another person in my life. How could this be practice for something better? Something better doesn’t exist. All that exists is Nicky.

Nicky throws her head back. “I’m going to come, Ronan.”

I fondle her breast and dip my head, sucking her nipple into my mouth. “Come for me, Nicky. Come all over my cock,” I command her as I lightly pull her bud between my teeth.

She doesn’t just come. She explodes, going stiff in my arms as a hot wave of her wetness blasts down the length of my shaft.

I act quick, lifting her off of me and grabbing the base of my cock as my release spurts out like a geyser. I watch helplessly as that shit sprays all over my chest and abs.

Startled, Nicky tumbles off my legs and lands on the carpet, yelping.

Our eyes meet.

And we burst into laughter.

We laugh and we laugh and we laugh. And I know there’s no one in this world I’d rather share this moment with.

“Up.” I reach a hand out to help her off the floor. “Shower time.”

“Agreed.” She nods.

Nicky goes to the kitchen island and reverently takes her new dress from the box. I smile at the happy glitter in her eyes. We head for the stairs, her perky butt jiggling ahead of me as she jogs up each step. I trail behind, trying not to make a disgusting mess all over the floor.

“Can you get the water started?” Nicky asks over her shoulder as she goes to the closet and retrieves a hanger for her dress.

“Sure thing, Peach. Don’t keep me waiting.”

I make sure the water is the exact temperature she likes. Way warmer than I prefer it, personally. But if it makes Nicky happy, I’m happy.

I step under the spray, letting the water wash down over me. Minutes go by and now I’m wondering what’s taking Nicky so long.

Just as I’m about to call out to her, I spot her through the foggy shower door.

Instantly, I know that something’s wrong.

Alarmed, I hit the faucet to cut the water.

“Uh, hey.” She lingers in the doorway, grabbing onto the frame as if to hold herself up.

“Nicky?”

Her brows pinch together as she stares at the floor.

“What’s up?” I step out of the shower, not bothering to reach for a towel, not caring that I’m drenching the floor.

She takes an uncertain step backward. “You think I could trust you to be on your own for about twenty-four hours? I need to make a quick visit back to Honey Hill to see my family.”

I scowl. That’s the last thing I’m expecting her to ask me.

“Talk to me, Nicky…”

She shakes her head, not looking at me. “I just need…my family.”

Feeling so very confused, I reach for her hand. “What’s going on, Peach? Please. As your practice boyfriend, I just want—”

She pulls away from my grasp. “Real life, Ronan.” Her voice shakes. “Real life is what’s going on. Not whatever game it is that we’re playing. I…I have to go.”

Her words cut like a butcher’s knife, splitting my chest right open.

Her cold words remind me of what we really are. We’re not just lovers enjoying each other’s bodies on a quiet winter morning. We’re not partners who confide in each other, who are building something real together.

Nicky is here to do a job. I’m nothing but a responsibility. It’s so starkly clear in this moment.

She repeats her question. “Can I trust you on your own?”

I take a step back. “Of course I’ll be fine on my own,” I say gruffly.

Nicky turns and hurries out of the bathroom. I linger behind, a pain blooming in my chest when I see that her overnight bag is already packed on the floor.

What the fuck, Peach?!

She barely glances at me when she says goodbye. She just grabs her shit and hustles out.

I’m left there staring at the dress hanging from the closet door, wondering what I did to make her pull away.

Did I come on too strong? Was the dress too much? Or was it the sex with no protection? I’m digging through my brain for how I fucked up this time.

I mean—I fucked up, right?

I always do.