Chapter Five
The muffled chime of “Jingle Bells” from the alarm on Quinn’s phone woke her at crap o’clock. It couldn’t be time to get up already. After two hours of nightmare-filled sleep involving Lily dressed as a Chrismastime Freddie Kruger, death would be a welcome relief. Beside her, Ronan lay on his side with an arm slung over the pillow barricade. Lucky pillow.
When she rolled out of bed, Max jumped and yipped with excitement.
“Ssssh, there’s a good boy. Don’t wake the big bad wolf.” For once, Max listened and sat down, his spindly tail smacking off the floor. She didn’t want to wake Ronan because she didn’t want to see the look of pity in his eyes again, the one he’d given her last night when she’d revealed what had happened. Spilling her guts wasn’t something she’d planned on doing, but when he'd asked questions, she couldn’t stop pouring out her problems. So much for a problem shared is a problem halved. Slicing open her veins with a rusted knife and watching her blood spill would’ve been an easier option.
By the time she left the room with Max under her arm, Ronan had tunneled beneath the covers. In a different reality, she would’ve spooned into him and spent the morning having headboard-shaking sex, but that wasn’t her reality and never would be.
Lily prowled through the foyer like a starving lion ready to disembowel its prey. As usual, her phone was stuck to her ear, and she continually dragged her fingers through the blunt ends of her hair. The bruised circles beneath her eyes showed a vat of intravenously administered caffeine was needed. Stat.
Despite Max squirming and yowling in the crook of Quinn’s arm and the mass of electronics and files balanced in her hands, she managed to wiggle her fingers toward Lily and mouth, “Good morning.” Staying professional and courteous wasn’t easy where Lily was concerned, but it was a necessity. Her greeting wasn’t returned. Instead, she received a shake of Lily’s head and a thinning of her scarlet lips.
Lily stopped prowling and tapped a staccato beat with her foot. She was pissed. Or hung-over. Probably both. Too bad. There were too many things to figure out today, and appeasing a snippy woman wasn’t on the list.
Max wiggled free from Quinn’s arm and scampered toward Lily. The dog must have a death wish. On top of everything else, she’d now have to deal with Lily’s reaction to a dog that looked like a lab experiment gone awry.
The tiny canine circled Lily’s legs and jumped up, placing two tiny paws on one of her shins. Her eyes widened, and her foot ceased its constant tapping. If the bitch kicked Max off her leg or hurt him in any way, Quinn would kick her back and then quit.
She held her breath and prayed. Lily’s lips lifted into a smile, not a smirk or a grimace, but an honest-to-goodness face-splitting smile. She hunkered down and tickled Max under the chin and behind his ears before looking at his dog tag. Maybe the ice-queen had a heart after all.
The front door banged open, causing Max to run behind Lily’s ankles and pee on the floor. Quinn should be thankful he hadn’t peed on Lily’s thousand-dollar pumps.
A gust of wind and a flurry of snow followed Gary, one of the contractors, into the foyer. He stomped along the floor, leaving clumps of fluffy snow in his wake.
He shoved back his hood and wiped a calloused hand over a shaggy black beard that may or may not house a mouse or two. “Most of the men won’t be in today, love. The roads are like driving on glass. I’m lucky I made it.”
Jittery panic flip-flopped around her stomach, and she glanced at Lily to make sure she hadn’t heard. She hadn’t. She sat on a chair by the embers of yesterday’s fire cooing over Max, who was now curled up on her lap, staring up at his new friend adoringly.
Quinn rubbed a hand over her forehead. “I need a cup of coffee before I can process this.” The guests would arrive in a few days, and even if the castle wasn’t perfect, it needed to look a damn sight better than it did now. “Want one?” she asked, walking toward the stairs to the kitchen.
Gary followed her. “Is the Pope Catholic?”
“How much work still needs done?”
“Too much. I’ll finish fixing the heat today. That way no one will freeze, but as for the rest, the rooms won’t get a new lick of paint or a cleaning. My crew’s stuck in Lifford. Unless there’s a thaw by tomorrow, there’s no way we’ll get everything finished by the deadline.”
“Okay—” she said, blowing out a breath and placing her various electronics and files on top of the butcher’s block, “—this isn’t the end of the world, the rooms are more authentic without fresh paint anyway, and I can clean. What else?”
“Only seven out of the fourteen bathrooms have a working shower, but the taps on all the tubs work, and the toilets flush. The cottages on the grounds should be all right with a good cleaning. They’re not as old as the rest of the castle.”
“The bathrooms could be a problem.” She grabbed two mugs from a cupboard and filled them with coffee from an already brewed pot. “You have no way of getting a plumber here?”
“I can take care of most of the basic plumbing issues.” Gary accepted a steaming mug from her outstretched hand. “But I’d be lucky to get one bathroom a day fixed on me Jack Jones.”
“The shower in the honeymoon suite works, right?”
“It does.”
“Then everyone else will have to make do.” She held the hot mug to her cheek and mentally ran through her list. Everything was on the knife-edge of disaster but that didn’t mean she’d fall on the floor and flail her arms while screaming, ‘why me.’ Hysteria simmered inside, but she tamped it down. She needed all of her wits about her to deal with Lily, Ella, and Ronan.
“I know you’ll do what you can,” she said, “but if you could do more than that…”
“I’ll do me best, love.” Gary drained his coffee and set the empty mug in the sink.
The lights flickered off for a second and Quinn’s stomach sank to her toes. Losing power wasn’t something she’d considered and no way could it happen.
Gary cast his eyes upward. “I’ll get to work. See if I can get the backup generator working in case the power goes.”
“And I’ll get to work to make sure I get everything ready for the guests.” Quinn grabbed her iPad and pulled up the weather app to check the forecast. Sixteen inches of snow expected today. All flights in and out of Belfast and Dublin airports canceled. She grasped the tablet to her chest and closed her eyes. What was she going to tell Lily?
****
Ronan pressed end call and kicked the pillow barrier to the ground. Grit scratched his eyes, and with a yawn, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d been awake until the wee hours rehashing the arsehole he’d been, and his cousin had just confirmed he was the biggest bollox to ever walk the earth. Shane corroborated what Ronan had expected. Quinn didn’t have as much as a speeding ticket to her name. Brady had cleaned out her bank accounts, stolen her jewelry and anything else of value in her apartment, and was now on the run. After everything Brady had put his sister through, why the fuck did Ronan believe his lies?
The stress he’d put Quinn under was unforgivable. She was doing all she could to survive a crappy situation. If he had any decency, he’d leave, go to his parents’ or try to catch a flight back to New York. But if he did, she’d never make the wedding work, and even though it went against the very reason he was there, he’d help her as much as he could. But getting Quinn to accept his help would take a lot of persuading.
Ronan opened the Today FM app on his phone and listened to the over-excited DJs talk about the worst snowstorms in fifteen years. It couldn’t be as bad as what they were saying. Irishmen were known for telling stories and exaggerating the details. He went to the window and peeled back the curtains. He took it back. They weren’t exaggerating. Twenty inches or more of snow lay in an undisturbed layer. All airports would close until Christmas Eve at the earliest. And, because it was Ireland, they wouldn’t reopen for a few days, which meant he wouldn’t get a flight even if he wanted to. If he went to his parents’ house, his mother would try to over feed him and interrogate him about girlfriends, marriage, and babies, and more than that, if he left, Quinn would fail.
Staying at the castle was his best option, and the first thing he needed to do was find Quinn and apologize for acting like a self-absorbed shithead.
Lily sat by the fire in the lobby with her hands on her head and Max by her feet. Ronan wanted to pretend he didn’t see her, but before he was able to creep past her, she lifted her face and stared him down.
“Can you believe this?” She gestured around the empty foyer.
He glanced around, baffled. “What?”
“No one’s coming to work today because of the snow. How backward are these people, this country?”
The hairs on the back of Ronan’s neck prickled. “Ah, begorrah begosh, sure, ‘tis a fine soft mornin’ out there. Nothin’ but a wee drop o’ snow.”
“Who are you supposed to be, the fricking Lucky Charms Leprechaun?” She didn’t crack a smile. “I don’t appreciate your flippant attitude.”
He staggered back and clutched his chest. “Flippant? Me? I’m as serious as they come.”
Snorting, she snatched up a cast iron poker and plunged it into the fire. “Where’s that fiancée of yours? She needs to fix this. When Ella finds out the airports are closed, someone’s gonna pay, and it ain’t gonna be me. Why she wants a wedding here, I’ll never understand. This is all Quinn’s fault. Filling Ella’s head with fairytales.”
“C’mon, you can hardly blame Quinn for the weather. It’s not like she has a direct hotline to Mother Nature.”
“She’s the one who pitched this idea. A Christmas wedding in Ireland blah, blah, blah. What better way to seal your love blah, bullshit, blah.”
Quinn was doing all she could. A weaker woman would’ve buckled under the strain of having to share her bed with a stranger as well as keep up the pretense of him being her fiancé, never mind her suffocating financial issues.
“The wedding will be perfect,” he said.
“And I’m the Queen of Sheba.” Lily pulled her electronic cigarette from inside her blazer. “I need wine.”
“It’s eight… in the morning.”
“Midnight in LA. When you find Little Miss Love Struck, remind her we have a FaceTime call in fifteen minutes with Ella and Kai.”
He didn’t have to look up to know Quinn had entered the lobby. The light scent of her perfume preceded her every step and coiled around his body, squeezing all the air out of his lungs.
“I haven’t forgotten the call.” She handed a mug of black coffee to Lily.
Lily took the coffee and leaned back in the chair, crossing her ankles. “Get me a shot of whiskey for it. It’d make this hell hole bearable.”
“Whiskey later. Work now. Would you like an update?”
There was a determination in Quinn’s tone, one he hadn’t heard before.
“Not unless you’re about to tell me the bride and groom will get here for their own wedding.”
“Like I already pointed out,” Ronan said, coming to Quinn’s defense. “Quinn can’t control the weather.”
The steely look Quinn shot Ronan all but sliced him in two and told him to keep his mouth shut and nose out. “I guarantee the wedding will happen.”
“Hmph.” Lily scooped up Max and strutted toward the staircase. “Send Brendan to my room with an inventory of his wine cellar and steak for my dog.”
“Looks like Max found his new owner.” Ronan laughed as Lily vanished upstairs. Apologies weren’t something he had a lot of experience with, and now he was alone with Quinn, he didn’t know what to say or where to begin. “Quinn, I—”
“Don’t you ever get involved when I’m discussing a delicate situation with my client.”
“How can I not get involved? She was out of line.”
“I mean it.” Irritation tinted her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “Butt out.”
“I have years of experience dealing with people like Lily. I want to help.”
“Sure you do.” Skepticism colored her words, and she crossed her arms, shutting him out.
“I’m not the bastard you think I am.” Saying sorry to someone who thought he was a narcissist wasn’t going to be easy, but he deserved all of her anger and loathing.
“Fooled me.”
“I don’t like how you got this job, but I’m beginning to understand why you lied. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I’m going to do all I can to help you with no ulterior motive.” He should tell her about Brady. Tell her he knew how this mess of a situation happened. Confess he was a fool who fell for a con man’s lies. But if he did, Quinn would never trust another word he said.
She glared at him, her eyes narrow and hard. “Are you telling me you won’t say anything to Lily or Ella?”
“I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. Blackmail.” He winced. “Isn’t who I am.”
“Then you can understand why you have to leave and allow me to do my job the way I want.”
He closed the space between them. “Really? You want me to walk out the door and never see me again.”
She lifted her face until their lips were a breath apart. “Sounds about right.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Ronan captured her waist in his hands and tugged her body to his. The scent of her skin drained all coherent thought from his brain, and he crushed his lips to hers. A faint taste of coffee and chocolate coated her lips, and even if he wanted to stop, he didn’t possess the power to walk away from her.
He couldn’t figure out how she had this effect on him. She was everything he didn’t want. But that didn’t matter, because right now, all that mattered was the feel of her soft curves beneath his hands.
She arched into him, her breasts nudging against his chest, her body molding to his. What he wouldn’t give to feel her naked skin, feel her body writhe beneath him.
She streaked her fingers up his back and tunneled them through his hair. Fuck, he wanted to taste, bite, and lick every part of her. It’d been a long time since he’d wanted anyone like this. If ever.
He skimmed kisses down her jawbone and over her throat, her perfume coating his lips. The fabric of her sweater bunched up, and when he grazed his fingers along the curve of her waist, sparks of electricity shot up his arm, shocking his erratically beating heart.
Barely suppressing a whimper, she broke away. “I can’t. Not now. I have to do… the things.” Confusion creased her forehead.
“Things?” Ronan continued to run his fingertips over her waist.
“Work things.” Blindly, she reached for the back of a chair and held on. “There’s too much to do. I don’t have time for—” she motioned between them, her wide eyes saying what her lips didn’t.
“Don’t have time for what?” He raised his eyebrows in question.
“Us. You. Whatever this is.” As if afraid to say more, she rolled her lips between her teeth and held them there.
He brushed his lips over the shell of her ear, and whispered, “I have a feeling we’ll both have plenty of time for ‘whatever this is’ later.”
Quinn moved back, and he dropped his hands from her waist. Disappointment seemed to flash across her face, but she quickly blinked it away and with a tilt of her chin, her expression turned devious.
“Because of the shitty weather, the cleaners can’t make it. You really want to help, then help me clean.”
“You’re joking? Clean?” When he’d offered help, he meant he’d help manage the contractors and vendors. Help make sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to do. Look at the fine details to make sure she hadn’t overlooked anything.
“You’re familiar with the concept, right? Mop, bucket, vacuum?”
“I’m not a cleaner.”
“You’re not a wedding planner either.”
“I’ll look at the spreadsheets, the contracts.”
“I don’t need that kind of help.” The finality in her voice told him now wasn’t the time to push it. “Unless you’re afraid of ruining your manicure, pretty boy.”
“Pretty boy?” He scratched the two-day-old scruff on his chin with clipped fingernails. “And here I was going for the rugged look. My team of stylists won’t be happy. I should fire them.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit—”
“But the highest form of intelligence.” He wanted to see her smile again. Wanted to see the way her face lit up, and how the worry line between her eyebrows softened when she relaxed.
“You keep thinking that.”
He laughed. “There’s research to prove it.”
“If Oscar Wilde were alive, I’m sure he’d be thrilled about you quoting him in a drafty castle in Ireland.” She tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips, he could see it on her face, but she couldn’t stop the corners lifting. His stomach all but bottomed out at her happiness. In the space of two days, he’d witnessed her every emotion from anger to embarrassment to elation. All of which he’d been partly responsible for.
She cast a glance over her shoulder and nodded toward the basement stairs. “The supply closet’s behind the kitchen. Have fun.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Without looking back, he strolled toward the basement stairs. Later on, when they were alone, he’d see what other emotions he could coax from her.
****
With Ronan off gathering cleaning supplies, Quinn touched her fingers to her lips. His kiss. That tongue. Those hands. Yesterday’s kiss had woken her hormones, but today’s kiss had molded those hormones into a lust monster that was now beating at her chest. A shiver of anticipation worked its way around her nerve endings, linking them up until her entire body hummed. Maybe he wasn’t the arrogant jerk he pretended to be, but she didn’t need the kind of help or advice he offered. What if he took over? Or tried to tell her what to do and where he thought she could improve.
There was no denying, he had many more years of experience in successful event planning than her, but this was her problem to solve. She had to prove to herself she could fix this and that Brady stealing her money and her dignity wasn’t the end of the world. And besides, what if Ronan’s seducing her was part of his plan? Once she fell for him and gave him what he wanted, would it be a case of see ya later, sista?
Ronan reappeared, laden down with mops, brushes, buckets, and bottles of cleaning solution.
“Happy now?”
“If event planning doesn’t work out, you can always start your own cleaning business.” She focused her attention on his lips and held her breath. Would he kiss her again? Do something more than kiss her?
An aura of self-assurance surrounded him. Everything from the way he walked, to the way he held himself, to the cheeky dimpled smile he gave were all designed to make her kick off her panties. He knew what he wanted, and she hoped he wanted her. All of her.
He dropped everything to the floor, the crash booming around the foyer, and then toed a bucket filled with supplies her way.
“Time to get stuck in.”
She glanced at the bucket and toed it back toward him. “Start on the first floor.”
“I’m not doing this on my own.”
“I didn’t say you were. I’m going to strip—”
“That’s something to look forward to.”
She rolled her eyes. “Strip the beds. And when I’m done with them, I’m going to scrub, sweep. You need to dust and vacuum everything.”
“There’re cobwebs over a hundred years old in this place. The spiders have probably mutated into beasts.” Ronan’s face turned as white as the snow outside. It seemed she’d found Goliath’s weakness.
He grimaced. “What if there’s a nest with thousands of baby spiders waiting to pounce?”
“Seriously? You’ve read Harry Potter one too many times. I promise you Aragog and his colony of Acromantulas aren’t hiding in the attic waiting to eat you.” She could be nasty and insist he dust the cobwebs and force him to face his phobia, or she could be nice… Relenting, she gave him a smile. “Fine, I’ll dust, but you’re in charge of the toilets.” She shuddered. “I can’t bring myself to clean them.”
“Too good for it?”
“You want to try your chances with the cobwebs, Spiderman?”
He shrugged. “Fair point.”
The phone in her front pocket vibrated. She knew it was Lily before looking.
FaceTime call canceled again. Ella at a party. Kill me now. Where’s Brendan with the wine list and dog food?
Hopefully, Lily would stay in her room all day with Max and her friends Pinot and Noir. Now that Lily was out of the way for a while, Quinn and Ronan would get a lot more achieved. She shot Brendan a text telling him the Queen requested an audience in her chambers.
Her phone vibrated again. What was it this time? The text wasn’t from Lily. It was from a number she didn’t recognize.
Miss me, babe? Hope all the wedding plans are falling into place. Keep your eyes open for a wolf dressed like a lamb. B.
What did he mean by that? Her stomach twisted into a crown of barbed wire. Not now. Please, God. Not now.
“Everything okay?” Ronan gave her a concerned smile.
“Fine. Everything’s great. Lily wants wine.”
More of the other contractors battled the weather and arrived by midday. They'd have to work through the night, but by tomorrow all of the rooms would have heat with fully working bathrooms. Plus, they’d plowed and salted the roads leading up to the castle’s entrance, and if nothing else went wrong, the guests shouldn’t have much more than a few flight delays getting to the castle.
She shoved Brady to the back of her mind and filed him under later. Worrying about him showing up was a waste of time and wouldn’t achieve anything. She should tell the police, but what could they do? They couldn’t trace him through the text. The phone, like all his phones, was probably a burner. Something he could dispose of when it had served its purpose. Much like he’d disposed of her.
The rest of the day passed in a cloud of dust and cleaning solution. The room she and Ronan shared was functional enough, but some of the other rooms hadn’t been used since Brendan closed the doors over a decade ago. Oak Castle should have been one of the busiest wedding destinations in Ireland, but the place was as broken as Brendan’s heart—such a shame. Everyone deserved love, and she hoped Brendan would find it again.
Dusk had fallen by the time Quinn reached the tower room. She stretched out her aching back and yawned. Cleaning all day reminded her why she was allergic to the gym and exercise. Every muscle screamed from fatigue and overwork. A steaming, bubble-filled bath was in her future, and this time, she’d drink a full bottle of wine.
She heaved open the squeaking door and flicked on a light that cast a dim orange glow around the room. The small space held a twin bed and an overstuffed armchair which sat by a fireplace. Ribbons of cobwebs ticker-taped the blackened hearth and swayed in the chimney draft.
A tornado of dust motes circled her feet and legs every time she moved. To air the musty room, she opened a small window and inhaled the frosty air. Twisting trees silhouetted against the darkening sky, and the North Star shone beside an iridescent waxing moon.
Until a few years ago, she wished on the first star she saw in the night sky, but she no longer believed in magic and miracles.
For the hundredth time, she checked her phone. Brady hadn’t texted again, but that meant nothing. The devious shit was planning something. Something that would cause more headaches.
If she told Ronan about Brady, would he know what to do? Would he think she was being dramatic, that an ex texting her, even if he was the one who’d ruined her life, was hardly something she needed to worry about?
Ronan. She sighed. Another man causing her problems. A relationship with him would bring her trouble with a capital T. But, oh, those lips. Their touch had stayed with her all day. A few more kisses from him wouldn’t cause the apocalypse. A few more kisses would make the whole fake fiancée thing more realistic. After all, they were supposed to be besotted with each other. Sex with Ronan might help her forget Brady and his games for a while.
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” Ronan’s deep lilt came from behind, and her heart raced. She glanced over her shoulder to see him leaning against the threshold. Dust stains covered his t-shirt, and his hair was a disheveled mess. He’d never looked hotter.
Rolled up sleeves exposed the delicious, sinewy muscles of his forearms, and she fought the impulse to run into his arms and beg him to lick every inch of her bare skin.
“You expecting a handsome prince to rescue you from your tower?”
Yeah, you. “A girl can dream.”
Ronan closed the door and sat on the unmade mattress, his blue eyes bright in the lamp-lit room. “You want to talk about what’s going on between us?”
“A few kisses doesn’t mean anything’s going on between us.” Quinn wanted to say she’d imagined getting down and dirty with him all day, that her lips still tingled and not throwing herself on top of him took more willpower than she thought she could ever possess, but she stayed quiet, and an awkward silence filled the room.
Ronan cleared his throat and watched her intently. “You can’t deny something’s pulling us together.”
“It’s not that.” She hesitated for a few seconds before answering. “First… thanks for all of your help today. As for what’s between us. I’m not looking for anything serious. Been there, done that—I don’t want the heartache or the hassle.”
“There doesn’t have to be any heartache or hassle.” He leaned back on his elbows, opening his body to her. “What’s to stop us from enjoying the rest of the time we’re here? No strings. No commitments or promises of forever.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
“It’s a great idea.”
The earth’s crust moved, sending shockwaves up her legs, and when Ronan reached for her hand, she gave it willingly. He looked perfect laying there with his hair sticking up at weird angles and a dust smudge on his cheek.
“Aren’t you afraid it’ll mess things up even more? We’re rivals. You don’t like me.”
“We’re not rivals, and I do like you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed them against her palm. “I can’t get you off my mind.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“A very bad thing.”
“Is there anything I can do to make my being on your mind a good thing?” One-night stands weren’t something she did, not anymore, but she’d made up her mind—she’d do it, or rather, she’d do him. Sex with the enemy could be a gigantic mistake, but she didn’t care. Not one bit.
“I can think of a few things.” One at a time, he kissed her fingertips. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. But I can’t help myself. You’re too fucking sexy to resist.”
She sucked in a breath and sat beside him. “Then what are we waiting for?”
“Nothing.” He eased her onto her back, placed a kiss on her neck, her cheeks, and her forehead. Everywhere but her lips.
Staying locked in this room with him forever wouldn’t be a hardship, but if he didn’t kiss her lips soon, she would jump on top of him and pin him to the bed. The lust monster beating on her chest was ready to break through.
Her back bowed off the mattress, and a moan sounded in her throat.
“Want something?” he asked.
“I’ll let you decide.” Damn right she wanted something. She wanted—needed—him to rip her clothes off and kiss her nipples, her stomach, and then lower. But, oh, no, Mr. Patient had something else on his mind. He’d taunt and tease her until she lost her sanity. Maybe if she begged him, he’d do something other than torture her.
“Was this your plan all along?" she asked. "Drive me insane and have me committed so you can take over?”
“A little frustrated?” He got on his hands and knees and knelt over her.
“We’ve shared a bed. You kissed me a few times. And it’s been a few months since… well, since whatever. So, yeah, I’m a little frustrated, and you aren’t doing anything to help unfrustrate me.”
“Tell me what’ll unfrustrate you?”
She laughed to hide her embarrassment. “What? No way. I don’t even know you.”
“And yet here you are, ready for us to fuck.” He swiped the tip of his tongue over her lips. “Do you want me to undress you?” He straddled her hips and pushed her sweater up and off her body, revealing a red lace bra. He unhooked the clasp and pushed the cups to one side. Whoever invented front-opening bras deserved a Nobel Prize.
“How about your nipples?” He leaned down and brushed his lips over the taut peaks, and a satisfied moan fell from her and ricocheted around the room.
“Can’t forget about your pussy, can we?” He stepped off the bed and stood between her splayed legs.
The sound of his dirty words mixed with his sexy accent meant one touch from him, and she’d come immediately. And coming was something she wanted to do again and again. She wrapped her legs around the back of his and dug her heels into his thighs.
“And what are you going to do to my, um, pu—down there.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. Dirty talk wasn’t part of her repertoire. Catholic school was to blame.
He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Down there?” With a flick of his wrist, he opened the button on her jeans and pulled down the zipper. “I’m going to bury my face ‘down there’ until you scream my name.”
“Oh.”
She lifted her hips from the bed, allowing him to peel off her jeans and soaked underwear in one go. Nerves and pleasure raced through her body, and she held her breath. Who knew sex with a man she barely knew could be this intoxicating?
“You should walk around naked all the time,” he said.
“Then they’d definitely lock me up and throw away the key. There you go again, trying to get me out of your way.”
His eyes twinkled. “Caught me.”
“Take your clothes off? It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re not.”
“Is that what you want?”
“You know it’s what I want. Stop teasing me.”
“Why would I stop teasing you?”
Reaching out, she ran her fingers along the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a breath, and she shivered. Telling him what she wanted didn’t come easy, but showing him what she wanted did. He yanked his t-shirt over his head, and the musky scent of aftershave mingled with the scent of a man who’d worked hard all day infiltrated her senses.
“You smell like, God, I don’t even know what you smell like, but it’s amazing.”
“You think dust and sweat smell good?”
“On you they do.” Her gaze lingered on his hard muscles, on his chest and flat stomach, and she glanced down to where his erection stretched the material of his faded jeans, straining for release.
“You’re still not naked enough.”
“Soon.” He pressed her legs open, reached down, and gave a gentle caress, and arousal spiked through her body. “Beautiful.” He kissed across her stomach, up to her chest and down the center of her body, teasing her again, arousing her even more. Her nipples begged for his touch, but he ignored their peaked pleas for attention and pressed kisses along her upper thighs. What did she have to do? Beg him again, because if that’s what it took, she was getting close.
Finally. Finally. He latched onto one of her nipples and drew it into his mouth. His swirling tongue drove her wild, and she was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. The warmth of his mouth on her breast and the cold air drifting in from the still open window chased goose bumps around her skin.
She scraped her hands through his hair and brought his mouth to her other nipple. Never in a million years would she have expected pleasure like this.
To add to her pleasure even more, he lowered his hand between her legs. The lightest pressure from his fingers was as powerful as a hundred volts and her back curved, pushing her pelvis into his touch, but then he moved away from her.
“Don’t stop. Please.” And there it was, she was begging.
“I don’t plan to.” He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and lowered them to the floor before kicking them off.
Lord in heaven. If she’d known about how delicious his entire body was, she would have ripped his clothes off a lot sooner.
“Get over here.”
He chuckled softly. “Bossy, aren’t you.”
“Only when I have to be.”
She reached out and loosely curled her hand around his impressive erection and stroked from root to tip and back again. He cursed under his breath. Now it was her turn to tease and torture him.
“I like how you feel in my hand.”
“I love how I feel in your hand.”
“Then you’ll love how you feel in my mouth even more.” She dropped to her knees and flicked her tongue over the head of his hard-on. Ronan flexed his hips and groaned and the anticipation of what was about to happen shook her hands. She licked the underside of his shaft, tracing the tip of her tongue up and down. Unable to resist, she kissed a drop of moisture beading at the head of his cock. “You taste even better than you smell.”
He looked down, his eyes glassy. “Keep tasting.”
“I think I will.” Quinn sucked him deep, corkscrewing her tongue around him, and dug her nails into his hard thighs.
He wrapped her hair around his fist and tugged. “You were right, I do love how I feel in your mouth.”
She hummed her reply and continued to suck him deep, running her hands up and down and around his legs, grabbing his ass, cupping his balls. When was the last time she wanted someone like this? Felt like this? It’d been a while if ever. Pleasure pulsed through her. The kind of pleasure that tingled her skin and tensed her muscles and demanded a body-melting, heart-stopping orgasm. She looked up. He watched her. His eyes were as stormy as the snow clouds outside.
She tugged his balls and was rewarded with a groan. “You have no idea how sexy it is watching you suck me off. But if you don’t stop, I’ll come.” He eased out of her mouth, curled his fingers around his cock, and tapped the head off her lips. She ached to feel his cock hit off her nipples, her clit, to have him drag it all over her skin.
“Lay on the bed and spread your legs.”
“Who’s being bossy now?” She lay down and bent her knees at the ankles and let them fall to the side.
He massaged his hands up her legs and swiped his thumbs over the sensitive indents at the apex of her thighs. “Fucking perfect.”
She laughed. “I’m glad you approve.”
“I more than approve.” He leaned over and splayed a hand on the mattress by her shoulder, and slowly lowered his mouth to the center of her breasts. Her nipples drew tighter.
Wanting.
Waiting.
Aching.
He molded a hand around her breast and caressed and kneaded. Her pulse thundered and a fever scorched her skin, bathing her in a light sheen of sweat.
Last night, the pillow barricade was a big mistake and one she would never repeat. Tonight, nothing would separate them and when the fire smoldered and died, they would create their own heat. Body heat was the best kind of heat there was.
He moved his hand lower and cupped her mound, the heel of his hand massaging her swollen clit, his fingertips stroking her slick folds. She writhed and squirmed beneath his touch, and when he slipped two fingers inside her, the room spun and a fog of desire filled her brain. For the next while, nothing mattered or existed. Not Brady. Not Lily. Not Ella.
“You want more?” he asked, moving his fingers in a slow, agonizing motion.
“I want to feel your skin on mine.” Unafraid to show him what she wanted, she slowly rode his fingers, flexing her hips, bowing her back.
“Soon.” Over and over, he dragged his fingers from her. Frenzied cries fell from her lips, and she arched her body, doing her best to force him to go deeper, harder. “Ready for me to fuck you?”
“God, yes, so ready. I’ve never be more ready.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. Not yet.”
“I hate you.” And at that moment, she might have meant it.
Using his thumb, he traced small concentric circles around her clit. The waves of her orgasm built slow and steady, gaining strength and intensity with every touch. But she didn’t want to come. Not yet. She wanted to feel her walls clamp around his cock. Feel the weight of his body on hers.
“I need to taste you,” he said.
“Since I tasted you, I guess it’s only fair.” She held herself up on her forearms and watched as he knelt between her thighs. The second his tongue touched her, she cried out and threw her head back. The sheer relief of having his mouth on her was instantaneous. Like something she’d waited for her entire life but didn’t know she’d wanted until now.
He moved his attention to her clit, clamping his lips over her, scraping the edge of his teeth against her, bringing her to the brink but not allowing her to fall no matter how much her body strained and twisted.
He feasted on her. Explored her. Devoured her.
She curled her fingers through his hair and held him close, allowing him no escape, and even though she knew he could overpower her if he wanted, her body demanded she take what she needed. Instinctively, her hips rocked, searching, wanting, needing. He eased a finger and then another into her, curling them, twisting them, pressing them against her engorged walls. Her hips picked up speed and his fingers matched their pace, feeding the flames of her oncoming orgasm. She dug her fingers into his scalp and sucked in a sharp breath, and in a flash of light, an explosive climax obliterated her.
Her cries echoed around the room, drowning out everything else. She wanted to kiss him, taste him, share in the pleasure he’d given her.
With his fingers still inside her swollen channel, he moved up her body and mashed his lips to hers. There was desperation in the way he kissed. It was raw and messy, hard and soft, demanding and tender.
He eased his fingers from her, wrenching a moan of protest from her soul.
“Don’t stop.” She clamped her legs around his waist, pressing her feet into his lower back, urging him to take her.
“I’m not.” The blunt tip of his cock hit off her and another set of spasms wracked her body.
She ran her tongue over his lips, and whether he liked it or not, the wait was over. “Condom? Please tell me you have a condom.”
“A Boy Scout is always prepared.”
“If you’re a Boy Scout, I’m Mother Theresa.”
He rolled his warm body off her, scooped up his jeans, and fished through the back pockets. With a smile, he produced a small purple square.
“So you were expecting to get lucky?” she asked.
“Hopeful.”
He ripped the packet open and sheathed himself.
“Fuck me.” She reached out with her toes and seized his thighs, pulling him between hers.
“There you go being bossy again,” he said.
“I know what I want, and I want you.”
“What if I said I’m not ready to fuck you?”
“I’d say you were a liar.”
“I’d say you were right.”
Still standing, he curled his hands beneath her knees and pulled her forward until the head of his cock lined up with her entrance. As if trying to entice him in, her inner muscles contracted and rippled. She needed him to fuck her now, but he didn’t. Taking his sweet time, he worked the broad head of his cock a few inches inside her but didn’t go any further.
A few beats later, he eased out before reentering, going a little deeper, stretching a little wider. He pushed deeper still, and they both cried out, but he kept his thrusts painfully slow and controlled.
She dug her heels into his ass, imploring him to quicken his pace, to take her the way she needed, but he ignored her soundless plea and continued to take his sweet time with slow, steady, and restrained thrusts.
She’d had enough of his teasing, and that was all it was. He was testing her. Seeing how far he could push her before she lost control. What he had to do to make her beg. Wasn’t going to happen. No way would she beg again. But if he wasn’t going to do anything to give her another orgasm she’d take care of it herself. Later, when they’d taken the edge off their desire, they could take all the time in the world and make leisurely love all night, but now wasn’t the time.
Reaching between them, she massaged her still sensitive clit.
“Fuck, Quinn.”
She smiled, tilted her hips, and circled her fingers around and around. “Exactly my thoughts, fuck Quinn.”
Ronan sucked in a breath. His hooded eyes watched her, as if mesmerized by the hypnotic movements of her fingers.
His muscles tensed and corded, and he clamped his hands around her hips. He was ready. On a groan, his thick cock filled her to the hilt and she met every one of his hungry thrusts.
Her breath became labored and wave after wave crashed over her. She didn’t try to hide her enjoyment and allowed the sounds of her second, more powerful orgasm to spill from her. Her walls pulsed around his length and his once measured thrusts were now rough and unrestrained.
The need to come contorted his face, groans and curses fell from his lips, and he drove into her over and over. His body stilled and he threw his head back. And with one final brutal thrust, he released her hips and fell on her, kissing her as if he needed her breath to live.
After a few seconds of stillness, he eased himself from her and went into the bathroom.
Her heart thundered and her body fought to get its equilibrium back. Never had the first time with someone been like that. Fun and lighthearted, and toe-curlingly sexy. A few more days of sex like that? Yes, please.
Ronan rejoined her in the bedroom and grabbed his clothes. She looked into his eyes. They were cold and distant. Concerned, she sat up and reached for her discarded underwear. “What’s the hurry? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything’s perfect.” The tone in his words and his jerky movements told her everything was anything but perfect.
“There’s still lots to do.”
“I’ll finish the rooms tomorrow,” she said with a languorous stretch. “Right now, I want to go to our room and continue what we started here and I’ll let you tease me as much as you want.”
“Plenty of time for that later.” He scooped up her clothes and sat them on the bed beside her. “Get dressed. If we’re going to keep going all night, we need some grub for fuel.”
“All night? Think you can keep up?”
"Without doubt."
Even though he’d used all the right words, and smiled at the right times, it was like he couldn’t wait to get out of the room and away from her.
Confused and more than a little disheartened, she began putting on her clothes, and by the time she’d dressed, Ronan had disappeared.