“You just want my goat,” she whispered back.
He laughed, low and deep. “Not tonight. Tonight, I just wantyou.”
She looked up at him. “And what about tomorrow?”
“I’ll still want you.”
Heat bloomed inside her.
“I like how your hair smells,” he said. “I like how your laugh makes people turn to look. I like the way you curse when you’re mad.”
“And I like it when you stop talking,” she whispered.
He silenced her with a kiss.
Slow. Sweet. Thorough. His lips moved against hers with devastating precision, and her knees nearly buckled. When they pulled apart, the room was still spinning, though that could’ve been the whiskey.
“Come on,” he said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Let’s walk you home while we’re still standing.”
“What about your truck?”
“I’ll come back for it in the morning,” he said. “When I’m sober.”
They left the pub hand-in-hand, giggling like teenagers. The cool night wrapped around them, their steps slow and a little wobbly.
Aisling had not had this much fun in months, maybe even years. Laughing, they skipped like teenagers. Today had been hard, but tonight was fun.
CHAPTER23
The walk back to the O’Byrne estate felt longer than usual, mostly because every step buzzed with anticipation.
Ronan didn’t touch her, but the heat coming off him wrapped around her like a second coat. Their footsteps crunched on the gravel lane, the cool air biting at flushed cheeks and wind-kissed skin. Aisling could still hear the last echoes of music ringing in her ears, or maybe it was her heartbeat pounding like abodhránin her chest.
They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.
When they reached the front door, she turned to unlock it. Her hand hesitated on the knob. She felt him step behind her, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.
“You’re quiet,” she said softly.
“Trying not to say something I can’t take back,” he murmured.
She swallowed hard and turned toward him. “Like what?”
His eyes locked onto hers, stormy and dark and full of hunger. “Like how badly I want to come inside. How long I’ve been wanting this. How much I need to know what it feels like to have you, really have you.”
That was it. The final, thin thread of restraint snapped.
She opened the door, stepped inside, and then turned back to him. “Get in here.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click. They barely made it past the threshold before his hands were on her waist, her back pressed against the inside of the door, mouths crashing together like a dam breaking.
His kiss was fire and possession and longing all rolled into one. Her fingers twisted into the collar of his jacket as he walked her backward through the foyer, their lips never breaking. He tasted like whiskey and mischief. Like every dangerous thing, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall for again.
And God help her, she was enjoying every damn second with Ronan, so much so, it terrified her how easy it would be to fall for him.
The memory of Michael caused her to gasp. But this wasn’t like Michael. This wasn’t manipulation dressed up as love. Ronan kissed her like she was something sacred.
They stumbled into the sitting room, crashing onto the old velvet couch. He pressed against her, hands moving, waist, ribs, jaw, hair, everywhere at once like he couldn’t get enough of touching her.
