Perhaps she’s in her bed right now with her hand between her thighs, her body trembling with pleasure as her climax builds.
What I would give to hear the quiet whimpers spilling from her lips as she comes. But more than that, listening to her frustrated cries as she realizes that the pleasure she feels is nothing compared to what I can give her.
My mouth goes painfully dry, and I grind my teeth as my cock twitches in my pants at the thought.
"This meeting’s over." I get to my feet. "Go home, Callum, and stay the hell out of my way.”
He makes no attempt to move. Instead, he just watches me go as hatred rolls off him in waves.
The only reason I’m entertaining him is his sister, my wife. But if he ever crosses me, I’ll have no problem putting a bullet between his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
CIARA
I wipemy hands on the dish towel and glance around the kitchen, surveying the mess I’ve made.
Flour dusts the countertop, and the scent of rich, simmering beef and Guinness fills the air as the pies cook in the oven, their crusts slowly turning the perfect shade of golden brown.
I have to admit that cooking dinner for Ronan Sullivan is a new low, even for me.
I can almost hear my father's voice in my head, telling me I'm betraying everything I believe in. But after my talk with Mila, her words still echo loud and clear in my mind.
If you put half as much energy into getting to know him as you do into hating him, maybe you’ll learn something you don’t expect.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe fighting Ronan tooth and nail isn’t the smartest plan anymore, especially when I can still feel the evidence of him every time I walk.
God, the way he touched me last night still lingers on my skin like a brand, and I’m too damn blinded by the pleasure he brought me to be mad.
If anything, I cravemore, and from the look in Ronan’seyes as he took in the sight of me covered in him, he feels the same.
While my vendetta against the Sullivans still stands, perhaps I could use this newfound lust as a way of getting what I want out of Ronan…
I barely have time to clean up before the front door slams shut and heavy footsteps cross the foyer.
My stomach twists, partly from nerves and anticipation, considering I’m about to find out if Ronan caught me snooping in his office.
When he appears in the doorway, he freezes when he sees the table set for two, a single candle lit in the center, as well as a fresh bouquet of flowers I cut from the garden.
His dark eyes narrow as he looks from the table to me, eyeing the flour-covered apron I’m wearing over my baby-blue dress.
"What’s all this?" His voice comes out low and gravelly.
I shrug, trying not to look like my heart's about to beat out of my chest as I eye his powerful body. But that’s not easy when I can still feel the phantom weight of him pressed against me.
"Something Mila said earlier stuck with me."
“And what was that?”
“That we’re married, and that fighting with you is pointless.”
“Is that so?”
I scowl as I catch his lips twitching. “What I’m trying to say is that maybe if we actually try to get along, life won’t be so unbearable."
He stares at me for a long moment, as if he’s trying to figure out if this is some elaborate trap. Then his lips slowly pull up into a smirk, and I catch a wicked glint in his eyes.
"I can think of a few times we've gotten along just fine." He lets his gaze roam over my body.
