He curls his fingers inside me, and I cry out as I climax.
My body trembles as my pussy pulses around his fingers, and Ronan groans against my neck as he continues to move them inside me.
Only when I’m gasping for breath does he release my wrists.
“That’s my girl.” He kisses my temple.
I let out a contented sigh as he slides his fingers out of me and rebuttons my pants.
I’m about to protest, insisting that we’re not leaving this closet until he’s fucked me senseless, when his phone rings, and instantly the mood shifts.
Ronan’s shoulders tense as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He glances at the name on the screen and then at me, and I can see his thoughts clear as day. He’swondering if I’m going to make a run for it the second he turns his back on me, and instantly my post-orgasm high vanishes.
“Yes?” Ronan grunts as he holds his phone to his ear.
His eyes darken as he looks at me, but I don’t look away. I might have submitted to him in the throes of pleasure, but I meant what I said. I’m not a prisoner, and I’m not about to let him treat me like one.
Ronan hangs up the call after barely sharing two words with whoever is on the other end and shoves his phone back in his pocket.
“I have to go out.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Of course, you do.”
“I meant what I said about you staying here. And from now on, Stephen is your personal bodyguard when I’m not home.”
“Why do you keep doing this? What happened to what we discussed after that whole thing with Mia?”
“I’m not risking your life. Oh, and my men are under strict orders to check on you first if any alarm goes off in the house.”
I swear I’ve never wanted to throw something at someone’s head more in my life. But I need to remember that underneath all the rules and the round-the-clock bodyguard, Ronan is terrified.
That’s what all of this is. He’s afraid of losing me. But what he doesn’t realize is that I might be even more afraid of losing him, not just because of what he does for a living, but because of the secret I’ve been keeping from him.
Chapter Twelve
RONAN
Kieran’s studyhas started to feel like a war room, and for good reason. There’s new security stationed outside the door, and I nod at them as I approach, noting the guns hanging at their hips.
They’re two of Kieran’s guys I trust enough not to break under torture if it comes down to it, but I still scan them on instinct. We can’t be too careful anymore, not with everything going sideways this fast.
After scanning my thumb to unlock the door, the usual scent of whiskey and stale cigars hits me, and I wrinkle my nose.
My brothers are already seated around the old poker table Kieran dragged in here after our last meeting turned into a night-long strategy session, and it seems they’ve all been locked away in here ever since.
Brennan’s nursing a tumbler of something, his boots kicked up on the table like he doesn’t have a care in the world, though I know that’s a lie. He just hides it better than most.
Cormac’s leaning against the bar, scrolling through his phone with a deep crease between his eyebrows, and Kieran is fiddling with a soundproof panel on the wall.
“I think we need to make showers mandatory between meetings. It fucking reeks in here.”
Brennan chuckles under his breath, and Cormac rolls his eyes.
“Fuck off,” Kieran mutters without looking at me.
I swallow a retort when I eye his clearly sweaty workout clothes and the backwards hat that is keeping his sweat-soaked hair off his face.
Case in point.
