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“And you can be damned sure that I’m going to use every minute of it.”
Her stomach flipped. “To do what?”
“To prove you’re wrong.”
Her breath caught. “About what?”
“About hell. About where you belong. About there being no tomorrow for us.” He took another step closer, bringing him so near she could feel the heat of him, the sheer determination radiating from every inch of his body. “And when I’m done, you’re going to stop looking at yourself through the eyes of a young Katerina and see yourself the way I do.”
“How’s that?”
His smile was soft. “As a woman worthy of more love than she knows what to do with.”
Oh, dear Lord.
This man.
This impossible, infuriating, marvelous man.
“Ronan,” she groaned.
“And I’m staying tonight.” he continued.
She lifted her brows. “You are?”
“I am.”
“Who says?”
His grin was pure male satisfaction. “You did.”
“I most certainly did not.”
“Felicity.”
“Fine.” She spun about and flounced into the kitchen, resisting the urge to lock him out. “You can stay,” she called over her shoulder.
His chuckle followed her. “Glad we settled that.”
And she didn’t know what to make of the grin that kept sneaking back as she readied for bed.
The bed she was going to share with Ronan.
For the second night in a row.
For a woman determined to keep him at a distance, she was doing a remarkably piss-poor job of it.
*
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper, gripping him tighter. Bending his elbow, Ronan dropped his forehead to hers.
Her breath hitched, and she moaned. “Yes. There. Don’t stop. Just … don’t stop.”
His hand curved around her hip, anchoring her, keeping the angle. “Never,” he vowed, moving in and out of her slick core with steady strokes, holding back the need to chase his own release and pound into her with relentless force.
Her breathing turned choppy, her rhythm faltering. “Ronan, Ronan, Ronan,” she chanted.
“With you, Lissy-love.” He focused on making each stroke count, and moved his hand, his thumb finding her clit, adding friction, giving her exactly what she needed.
