Page 140

Miracle? Before she could refute his claim, he lowered his mouth to hers and all rational thought vanished, leaving space for nothing but him.

“You need to be adored,” he said, trailing his lips down her neck, over her shoulders. “Worshipped.”

Her hands moved to his head, tangling in his hair. She didn’t guide him. Didn’t need to. He seemed to instinctively know where to kiss her next. Her sternum, the swell of her breasts, first the one, then the other, teasing her nipples with his tongue and teeth, pulling sighs and groans and his name from her lips. He moved lower, to her upper abdomen, belly button, the dips and rises of her hip bones, the top of her pubis. She was soaked, desperate for relief. For him. “Ronan,” she groaned.

“I know, Lissy-love. I know. Just need a condom.”

Condom. She reached for his hand, wanting no barriers between them. “I’m on birth control.”

He stilled, met her gaze, his eyes the darkest blue possible. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “That is, if—”

She stopped talking because he lifted her hips, positioned himself at her entrance, and pushed forward in a slow, steady move, her body yielding to him until he filled her completely.

Never, never had anything felt so damned good.

So absolutely fucking perfect.

He groaned. “You feel so good,” he said, settling into a slow rhythm with long, deep strokes, each one sure and true. Strokes she felt all the way to her soul. Her breath quickened. Suddenly overwhelmed, she closed her eyes, lest he see the feelings floating to the surface.

“Eyes, Lissy-love. On me.”

She forced her lids up, and their gazes locked, held. All she could see was his face, the sheer concentration as he moved above her, increasing his pace, the friction building, taking her right to the edge. She committed the moment to memory.

He grabbed her hands, linking their fingers. “Now. Come for me.”

Her orgasm moved through her body, one long intense shiver, lasting, lasting until she cried out with the release as her back arched. “Ronan.”

“That’s my woman,” he whispered.

His body tightened, his muscles bunching as he drove into her again and again, harder and harder, and then he went taut and groaned with a final deep thrust, spilling inside her. “Felicity.” Just her name, said like a prayer.

He collapsed over her, pressing her into the mattress, his face buried against her neck.

She welcomed his weight, relishing the way it anchored her, the way it made her feel held. Protected.

The steady thud of his heart against her breast, the warmth of his breath at her throat … it grounded her in a way she had never known.

He lifted himself onto his elbows, gently sweeping damp strands of hair from her forehead, his eyes locking onto hers. “I love you, Felicity Graham.”

The words weren’t unexpected, yet they stole her breath.

No. No. No.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her, his lips brushing over hers. “Shhh. Don’t deny me the pleasure of saying it aloud.”

Closing her eyes, she nodded. A quick jerk of her head.

“Good girl.”

That had her eyes slamming open.

He grinned. Winked. Stole another kiss. “Gonna get you a washcloth to clean up.”

Right. No condom. She shifted. “I can—”

“Stay.” He pushed up and off her, rolling to the side of the bed.