Chapter 13

“I don’t have friends, I got family.”

Dominic Toretto, Furious 7

Every time Ronan kissed Hope, he left her dough-brained. The first time, down by her room, it had been all physical. Well…mostly physical anyway. There was no denying she was already feeling something for him, something other than holy crap on a cracker, this guy’s hot, but they hadn’t known each long enough or well enough for that kiss to be much more. Even so, that first kiss rocked her back a ways; going by how long it took him to get upstairs, it must have done the same to him.

Every kiss since then seemed to build on that attraction, leaving her wanting more—more of his kiss and more of him. It wasn’t just physical anymore, and it hadn’t been for weeks. Hell yeah, she liked looking at him—he was freakin’ gorgeous—but that part of him was quickly taking second place to who he was. Everything about him fascinated her, and no matter how much time she got to spend with him, she always wanted a little bit more.

He wasn’t nearly as loud or scary as he’d come across during that conference call. Not even close. The Ronan O’Donnell she’d come to know was an incredibly loyal and protective man, who preferred to keep his emotions to himself but who clearly loved his family more than anything. Unlike his brothers, who were both smart-asses, Ronan tended toward the dry, quiet type of humor, usually muttered when he didn’t think anyone was listening.

But Hope was always listening. She wanted to hear everything he said, because it meant she’d get another glimpse into who he was, and the more she knew about him, the easier it was to let herself fall. Sure, she’d only known him for six weeks, but six weeks or six years, what difference did it make?

She wasn’t stupid or naïve: She knew all it would take was a whisper from her, and Ronan would have her naked in a heartbeat. And there’d been so many times over the last few weeks when she’d come close to whispering those words—every time he slid his fingers through her hair, every time his arms pulled her up close and let her know that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, and every time he rumbled out one of those curses that told her he was about ready to explode.

Hope was ready to explode, too, and that part of her brain was in full-on meltdown most of the time, throwing out all sorts of ideas about how sex with Ronan would be freakin’ earth-shattering and how stupid she was not to jump at it every chance she got. And, oh man, she wanted to jump at it. There was no doubt that sex with Ronan was going to be amazing—hell, a simple look from him sent everything misfiring inside her brain and made all her sensitive parts tingle.

So it wasn’t that she didn’t want to—God help her, she wanted to. She was more than ready to give him everything she had, body and soul. But she wanted the same in return, and so far he hadn’t been ready or able to give her that. No matter how great the sex might be, she wanted it to be more than that, and she needed to know he wanted more, too.

She needed to know he’d fallen as hard as she had, that he was willing to give her everything, too. If he couldn’t do that, then it didn’t matter how great the sex was, it’d still just be sex, and Hope wasn’t willing to settle for that.

Tonight…yeah. From the second his lips touched hers as they sat in that chair, she knew. At first she thought she’d spooked him, saying that she didn’t want to leave him, because he got this strange confused look on his face, but then he kissed her and…well…ho-lee mother.

Ronan might not be good with the flowery words and such, but there wasn’t a poet—dead or alive—who would have been able to accurately describe what came through in those kisses. Sitting in the wooden beach chair, he’d given himself up to her in the most gentle and beautiful way ever, and then he’d backed it up by laying himself open and letting her see his scars in all their ugliness.

She hated every single word he said, but she loved that he said them to her, that he trusted her with his pain. She hated that he’d grown up the way he did, with so much confusion and fear, but she loved that he and his brothers looked out for one another, that they still had one another’s backs no matter what. She hated that he’d lived all these years feeling as if he’d failed Liam and Finn, but she loved that his loyalty and devotion ran that deep.

She hated why he was the man he was, but, oh Lordy, she loved the man he’d become, and she was going to show him exactly how much. Threading her fingers through his, she led him downstairs to her room. When they got to the door, he detoured to put JD in his room first, then stood in the doorway to her room, seemingly uncertain about what he should do next.

“Are you…” He trailed off, swiped his hand across his mouth, and started again. “Are you sure about this?”

“Quite.” And she was, no question, but seeing him standing there suddenly started her nerves twitching. “Are you?”

“Fuck yeah.” His blurted-out answer seemed to surprise him more than it did Hope, because he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest for a second before finally looking up at her again, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry. Just been thinking about this for a while.”

Toe to scalp, there wasn’t an inch of Hope that didn’t ignite right then and there, so why didn’t she move? Why didn’t she tug him inside and close the door? She was suddenly racked by too many feelings at the same time: excited, nervous, thrilled, terrified, happy—and really worried she wouldn’t be what he wanted or expected.

That had to be why she did it.

Ronan clicked the door closed and took his first step toward her, sending a massive tremble rocking through her, and instead of smiling up at him all sexy and flirty, like she wanted to, she crossed her arms over her chest and swallowed hard.

“Did you know a pig’s orgasm can last for half an hour?”

Oh. My. God.

What the hell was wrong with her? Was she trying to turn him off—because surely to God no man on the planet would want to hear about pig orgasms right before he had sex. But for some reason it didn’t even slow Ronan down.

“Lucky pigs,” he said, laughing quietly. “I’ll do my best for you, sweetheart, but half an hour? Yeah, you might need to let the pigs win on that one.”

In all the ways Hope had imagined this moment—and she’d imagined it all kinds of ways, from soft and romantic to hot and sexy—not once had she imagined it starting with her being mortified.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, turning her face away and clenching her eyes tight. “I don’t know why I said that. I just—”

“Hope.”

It seemed to take a long time for her to work up the nerve to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Tell me something else.” He slid his right hand around the side of her face and leaned close…so close…but he didn’t kiss her. “Let them all out.”

“Oh.” God, was that her voice making that shaky sound? “Uh…polar bears are left-handed.”

His lips barely brushed the corner of her mouth, but holy hell!

“What else?” He pressed a soft kiss against her cheek, then trailed his lips along the length of her jaw until she had to curl her fingers around his waist for balance.

“Uh…the Pittsburgh Penguins made Mr. Rogers an honorary captain.”

She felt him smile against her neck, just below her ear, so she tipped her head a little to the side, hoping he’d do it again, that he’d not only smile but kiss her right…there.

“There are worms in Australia that can grow up to nine feet long.” Hope didn’t even know what she was saying anymore, she was just letting stuff fall out. “The average major league baseball only lasts seven pitches.”

Ronan pulled back and looked at her, a teasing glint in his soft green eyes.

“I knew that one.” And then he kissed her—finally—and any anxiety she’d felt a minute ago instantly vanished.

Warm and strong, his kiss made her forget everything else except that moment, with his left hand sliding across her butt and pulling her in closer, tighter, until she was pressed right up against him. And it wasn’t even near close enough.

She grabbed fistfuls of his T-shirt and pushed it up, whimpering when he let her go so he could yank it over his head.

“Oh my.” Her fingers trembled lightly as she danced them across his broad bare chest and down his hard abs to the waistband on his jeans.

Each barely there touch made Ronan suck in a sharp breath, and each one of those left Hope feeling more empowered. That was her making him do that, it was her touch making him curse against her mouth, and, God help her, she loved that.

She’d barely touched his zipper when he couldn’t seem to hold back anymore; he took her face in both hands and kissed her—hard and hungry, deep and desperate, and as she lowered his zipper, bit by bit, his tongue urged her lips open, teasing and tasting.

Hope slid her fingers beneath the elastic of his boxers and eased them down with his jeans, taking her sweet time to feel the heat of his skin against her palms, and laughing when she finally freed him from behind that stiff denim.

“Jesus, Hope.” Quick as lightning, Ronan wrenched his mouth away, shoved his jeans and boxers down the rest of the way, and kicked them off, leaving him in nothing but his beautifully muscled nakedness.

He made to reach for her again, but Hope shooed his hands away.

“Give me a second here,” she said, laughing. “You’re like…wow.”

And holy crap, he really was. Big and hard—that was Ronan in every sense of the word, but in typical Ronan fashion, he wasn’t interested in hearing how wow he was. Instead, he reached for her again, caught her around the waist, and pulled her back to where he had her before, hissing as she ran her hands down his back and over his bare butt.

“Lose the dress,” he growled. “Or I’m ripping if off you.”

“Oooh,” she said, shivering over a giggle. “That sounds like—”

In one quick jerk, he split the back of her dress wide open and dragged it down her arms.

“—fun,” she finished, still giggling. If she’d known this was going to happen tonight, she would have worn underwear that were a little less…well, a little less.

Instead, she stood there in front of him in her plain boring black bra and panties, not looking nearly as sexy as she would have liked for this moment, and yet for some reason he still looked at her as if she was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

“Ho-lee shiiiit,” he muttered. “You’re perfect.”

She wasn’t—not even close, actually—but the mere fact he thought so was enough to make her throw her arms around him and kiss him again. And while she did that, Ronan made short work of the rest of her clothes, then lifted her straight up and carried her over to the bed.

“I hope you’re not a screamer,” he said, whispering it over a choked laugh. “ ’Cause these walls are pretty thin.”

“Now he tells me.” She started to lie back, then bolted up so fast she cracked her forehead against his. “Ow! Sorry—my bag. Grab my bag.”

Grumbling, he did as she said. “Trust me, we’re not gonna need duct tape or electrical cables.”

It didn’t take her long to find them, because she’d specifically tucked them in the small zippered pocket for two reasons: Number one, she didn’t want them falling out unexpectedly, and number two, she wanted to make sure she knew where they were when she needed them.

“Oh.” A wave of guilt washed over Ronan’s face as she set the condoms on the side table, then dropped her bag to the floor. “Right. Good thing you’re always prepared. I think.”

He was so cute when he frowned like that.

“I don’t carry them around all the time.” Laughing, she curled one of her hands around his neck and tugged him close. “I just wanted to be ready in case…you know…we ever got here.”

As she spoke, she slid her free hand down his stomach and wrapped it around his full erection, making him curse again, louder this time.

“And I think we’re here,” she said.

A few lightning-fast moves later, he had her flat on her back in the middle of the bed, his mouth whispering hot promises in her ear as he smoothed his rough hand slowly up her arm and over her collarbone. She arched toward him, gasping when he finally cupped her breast, took the weight of it in his palm, and caressed it so freakin’ gently she almost came undone right there.

“Easy,” he murmured. “We’ve got a ways to go yet.”

A snorting laugh ripped out of Hope’s throat.

“Maybe you do,” she said. “But I’m about this close…”

“Me, too.” Chuckling low and sexy, Ronan caught her mouth under his and kissed her again, teasing and nipping. She speared her hands through his hair and tried to hang on, but it was no use, because every part of her body was a writhing feverish mess.

He dipped his head lower, breathing feather-light kisses across her breast, flicking his tongue over her tight nipple and then smiling against her when she cursed at him.

She tilted her pelvis, trying to urge him on, but instead of helping her out, he slid his fingers through hers and pressed both their hands flat against her stomach, easing both of them closer to the spot she needed him most.

With a touch of his knee, he nudged her legs a little wider, then slipped their joined fingers through her wet heat. Hope sucked in a sharp breath as Ronan ground out a growl against her breast.

“Hope.”

The desperation in his voice had her scrambling for the packets on the side table. After watching her fumble with it for barely a second, Ronan grabbed it away from her, ripped it open with his teeth, and hissed again when she set her hands over his and they worked together to roll the latex down the length of him.

With a wicked grin, he lifted her hands over her head and held them there with one hand while his other skimmed down her body inch by inch, hooking her around the knee and curling her leg around him. Eyes locked on hers, he pushed inside, just a little, then stopped. Hope shifted beneath him, urging him to give her more, and he did, but not enough before he eased out again.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No! I need—”

He caught her cry with a kiss as he thrust into her, full and deep, and freakin’ well perfect.

Hell yes, that’s what she…

“Oh.”

Ronan was moving again, teasing her with stroke after stroke, pushing her toward the edge but never letting her fall—not yet. Head back, neck exposed to the magic of his lips, she arched off the mattress, wanting—needing—to take him deeper, but instead of helping her out, he just smiled against her neck and eased out again.

Hope was close…so close. All she needed was him buried deep inside her. Pulling one of her hands free, she circled her fingers around him and stroked lightly, loving the way that simple touch made him drop his forehead to her shoulder and moan, low and deep in his chest.

She stroked him again, a little harder, then let out a soft laughing squeal when he slapped her hand away and pushed into her one last time, long and deep. She felt him stiffen and she scrambled for something to hold on to, to save that feeling…right there…for another second or two, but Ronan brushed his fingertip against her, right where they joined, and the shock of that touch against her most sensitive spot sent her spiraling and crashing with him.

His mouth found hers, his kiss smothering her cries even after he collapsed on top of her. She could barely breathe, but she didn’t care; all she cared about was keeping him right there for as long as she possibly could.

She’d known before they even went downstairs that she loved him, but now…now it felt as if her heart had burst open inside her chest. She couldn’t remember ever being this happy—and it wasn’t just because he’d rocked her through a mind-bending orgasm, either. No, it was because she knew this was it, this was where she belonged. Ronan was the family she’d been aching for all these years. He was her home.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered, his mouth never leaving hers for a second. “That was…”

“Hmm.” She ran her hands down his back, splayed her fingers out across his ass, and sighed. “Yes, it was.”

“Hold on.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hold on.”

This time when he said it, he lifted her hands, one by one, pressed them against the back of his neck, then slid her leg out from behind him. When she started to protest, he just grinned and, with a quick roll, flipped them so she was sprawled on top of him.

“Better?” he asked, laughing quietly as he brushed her hair off his face.

Hope nodded against his chest. Every single thing was better now. Perfect, actually. His heartbeat thundered under her ear, his fingers stroked up her back with a tenderness that belied the strength in them, and he was still buried deep inside her.

“Hey.” He crooked his finger under her chin, but when she lifted her face up to his, he looked away. She pushed up off his chest so she could see his whole face.

“What is it?”

Ronan exhaled slowly, then finally swung his gaze to her again, but instead of looking happy or completely satisfied like she did, he looked worried, uncomfortable.

“I’m, uh…I mean, I think I’m…shit.”

Hope laid her hands flat on his chest and rested her chin on top, waiting to see if he’d be able to say it. She wanted him to, of course, but it seemed to her that Ronan needed to say it more than she needed to hear it.

“I told you I’m not good at this shit,” he said.

“Can I tell you something?” She pressed a kiss against his jaw, then another against his Adam’s apple as his answer rumbled beneath her lips.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m a little bit in love with you.” She said it against his neck, which sort of didn’t count—something Ronan must have agreed with, because he lifted her chin up and stared back at her for a long couple of seconds.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

Hope, suddenly overcome by another shot of anxiety, tried to shrug away, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Hope.”

This time when she said it, she looked him in the eye and smiled, a little jittery but a smile nonetheless.

“I said I’m a little bit in love with you.”

Ronan released the breath he’d been holding and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“Do you have any kind of response to that?” she asked. “Anything at all?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, sounding much more like the Ronan she knew even as his eyes softened to deep green pools. “Number one, that’s very good news.”

“And number two?”

“Number two.” He reached for the stack of condoms. “How many of these do you have?”

“Seriously? Well, I’m pretty sure we’ll last the week, if that’s your concern.”

“It was, yeah. Give me a second here.”

Before she could agree or protest, he shuffled out from under her, disposed of the used condom, then crawled back into bed and trailed kisses up her body, leaving her breathless and clinging to him. She’d never thought she could go twice in such a short amount of time, but she was ready before his mouth found hers, before his fingers brushed over her breasts, and long before he’d ripped open the next package and rolled the condom on.

He didn’t tease her this time, didn’t drive her mad or wait until she was practically begging; he simply hooked her leg up around his waist, breathed a hot kiss against her mouth, and took her in one long stroke.

It was more than the feeling of him buried deep inside her, and it was more than knowing she was the one who made him smile like that when the world exploded around them. It was seeing everything she needed to see right there in those soft green eyes when he rolled on his back and kissed her so, so gently, so perfect.

“And number three,” he whispered, breathing the words against her lips, “I’m a whole lot in love with you.”

Ronan woke up in the middle of the night with the same smile he’d fallen asleep with. In fact, he found himself waking up every day with that same smile. And better than that, so did Hope.

It was no secret to the crew or to Ro’s family what was going on, but they all agreed it was probably best if the guests didn’t know just yet. Ditto for Luka. Once the show wrapped, they’d tell her, but for now it was better for Hope’s job if they kept it on the down low. And Hope insisted it would help keep the ratings up if the viewers believed one of those “hot O’Donnells” was still unattached.

So week after week they did their best to keep things as quiet as possible and stay out of camera range.

Hope continued to fly back to the mainland every Thursday and then always returned on Saturday afternoon to show them the newest episode before it went to air that night. The show wasn’t number one in its time slot, but it had developed enough of a following that they’d already been offered a contract for two more seasons.

“They wanted me to remind you the clock’s ticking,” Hope said. “So if you’re able to give me an indication of which way you’re leaning, that’d be great.”

As they’d done every week since the first episode, they were all in the great room, pizza boxes and drinks covering the table while they watched the credits roll up the screen.

“Well, I don’t speak for everyone,” Liam said, “but if you ask me, I think we should focus on finishing this season before we decide anything. We’ve got two more episodes to film and, so far as I know, Luka still doesn’t have any special guests lined up for those, does she?”

“Not yet,” Hope said. “But we’ve got a lead on one for the finale. And as for the rush, well, you have to understand that if you guys don’t sign, the network needs to find something to fill the time slot. They’d rather not have to scramble to do that, so the sooner you can let us know, the better.”

Ro, sitting sideways in the chair with his legs draped over the arm, didn’t say anything, just leaned back a little to see if he could gauge the rest of their expressions. As he did, he noticed Kate sliding her still-full Guinness into Liam’s hand, then taking his empty glass. There was something about it: It was too slow, almost secretive, too…wait a minute.

When was the last time he saw Kate drink anything alcoholic? She never refused a drink when someone offered her one, but did she actually drink it? Hell if he knew. It wasn’t something he normally paid attention to, but the harder he tried to remember, the more he couldn’t.

“No fuckin’ way!” He swung his legs around so fast that he had to grab the chair for balance when he shoved out of it. “Kate, are you—”

He stopped as her expression froze. The only thing moving was her eyes, which widened as they darted between him and Liam.

“Is she what?” Jessie asked, as she and Finn both turned to look at her, too.

“Holy shit!” Ro croaked. “You are, aren’t you?”

Kate didn’t even have to say anything; Liam’s big stupid grin had given it away already.

“She’s wh—” Finn’s question died unasked because, by then, Kate was sporting a matching smile to Liam’s.

Jessie leapt off Finn’s lap, pulled Kate to her feet, and pressed both hands against Kate’s belly. “You’re pregnant? Oh my God—why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because.” She paused, reached for Liam’s hand, and squeezed it. “We’re only a couple months along, and we didn’t want to jinx anything.”

“Well, holy shit, man.” Finn was on his feet, too, pulling Liam into a hug, and then they were all hugging and laughing. Everyone except Ro.

He hadn’t moved from where he stood in front of his chair, because he was still trying to digest it. Kate was pregnant. Kate. Kate and Liam were going to have a baby.

Ro was gonna be an uncle.

He couldn’t believe it. There was going to be a baby at the Buoys. A little O’Donnell who, God willing, would look more like Kate than Liam, and who’d be living proof that the O’Donnells could actually do something right. Something good.

“Oh shit,” Finn groaned. “He’s gonna cry again.”

It took Ro a second to realize that not only was Finn talking about him but that they were all staring at him. He cleared his throat hard and blinked harder, hoping it would stop the burning in the back of his eyes.

“Fuck you.” With a grunt, he shoved Finn out of the way and wrapped Liam in a tight hug.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Hope asked, but Ro ignored the question.

Hands fisted against his brother’s back, Ro nodded briefly and squeezed Liam tighter. There was too much going on inside his heart just then, and no way to find the words he wanted to say without turning into a blubbering idiot, so instead he wrapped his arm around Liam’s neck and kissed the side of his head.

“Ro.” Barely more than a trembled whisper from Liam, it was too much, so Ro did the only thing he could to save his dignity: He shoved Liam out of the way, too, and hugged Kate—not as tight as he’d hugged Liam, because he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Great news, Kate,” he whispered. “Really, really great.”

“Yeah,” she said, hiccuping over a small cry. “It really is.”

“Hello?” Hope said. “Someone clue me in here. What did you mean when you said he was going to cry again?”

Ro flashed Finn a warning look, but he knew if he didn’t tell Hope, Finn would.

“The day Liam got drafted,” he said, shrugging as he twisted his mouth a little, “it’s possible I might have shed a tear or two.”

“A tear or two?” Finn choked. “You wept like a little girl.”

“Don’t—” Jessie’s warning was too late; Ro was already lunging for Finn, but the little shit was too fast.

“You can’t be doing that when the baby comes,” Jessie said. “So just stop it now!”

“But—” Ro faked another shot at Finn, then held up his hands in surrender when Jessie yelled again: “Ronan!”

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, smirking over her head at Finn. “But we still have seven months, little brother.”

Ro shuffled the leftover pizza into one box and headed toward the kitchen, but Jessie’s question to Hope stopped him before he got out of the great room.

“What does this mean for us doing or not doing another season?” she asked. “What will the network say about a baby?”

“Are you kidding me?” Hope said, laughing as she began gathering the empty plates. “They’ll say alle-freakin’-luia. A baby’ll add a whole new dynamic to the show, and if you don’t mind my saying, when you’ve got three good-looking guys oohing and aahing over a baby, it’s ratings gold—especially with our female viewers.”

Ro started to object, but before he could get out the first sound, she held up her hand and shook her head.

“We would never exploit the baby,” she said. “If you guys decide to sign on for more seasons, it will be entirely up to Kate and Liam how much time the child is or is not onscreen. But it’s definitely something you should start thinking about.”

“Yeah.” Kate nodded slowly as she sank back onto the couch next to Liam. “We will.”

Hope followed Ronan into the kitchen, set the plates down, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“So exciting for them,” she said. “For all of you.”

“Yeah.” He breathed a kiss against her temple, silently giving thanks that she’d come into his life—not only on a personal level but because he didn’t know if they’d have done the show if it hadn’t been for Hope. Thank God they had, because now he could pay Liam back and maybe, if they got their shit together, they could get a house built before the baby came.

God, could it actually be happening? After all the shit they’d been through and all the screwups they’d each caused, was it possible that things were turning around? That he and his brothers had finally moved past everything and were going to be able to let themselves be happy?

He almost didn’t want to think about it in case he jinxed all of them, but how could he not? And with Hope standing there in his arms, smiling up at him like that…well, shit.

It was more than enough to make him believe.