“How the hell do you get this thing off?” he growls.
“The back.”
He pulls back and flips me onto my front in an instant, and I gasp.
His hands move down my back, undoing the buttons one by one until the dress falls open and reveals the very skimpy lace panties I chose.
“Were these a part of the extortionate bill you racked up?” He dips his finger into the waistband and tugs on them.
“Maybe…”
“There’s nothing to them.”
“That’s what makes them so expensive.” I glance over my shoulder. “Which is why I couldn’t afford a bra to go with them.”
Ronan looks seconds away from snapping as his eyes roam my bare back, as if just now realizing that the only thing shielding me from him is a scrap of lace.
“Fucking hell,” he groans as he rubs a hand over his face.
I guess I do have more control than I thought.
The thought has me fighting a smile as Ronan moves to stand at the edge of the bed before bunching the material of the skirt in his hands.
I cling to the bed as he pulls my dress away, leaving me in nothing but the white lace panties.
“Turn over.”
I take a breath before doing as he says. Every instinct in my body tells me to shield myself, to not be vulnerable in front of this man, but I ignore each of those instincts, if only to see the look on Ronan’s face when he sees my bare breasts.
But to my surprise, he gives nothing away. His dark eyes remain locked on mine, which only adds to the building ache between my thighs.
“Take off your panties.”
My mouth is painfully dry as I consider the fact that once my panties are off, I will be completely naked and exposed. But the throbbing between my thighs makes it hard to think straight.
I need relief, and if I have to get it from Ronan Sullivan, then so be it.
Keeping my eyes on his, I lift my knees to my chest and slowly slide my panties over my thighs.
His body is entirely still as he watches me, as if he’s been carved from stone.
That is, until I toss the panties aside and slowly spread my legs to reveal myself to him.
Only then does he falter.
Chapter Thirteen
CIARA
I cryout as Ronan reaches out to grip my bare thighs and yanks me toward the edge of the bed before dropping to his knees before me.
Holy shit.
Ronan Sullivan is on his knees for me.
I grip the comforter so tightly that my knuckles turn white as I try not to overthink what is about to happen.
This is wrong.
