His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t respond. Though from the look in his eyes, I know that whatever thoughts are coursing through his mind right now would cut even deeper.
"If you’re going to be an asshole to me, at least get some fresh material." I don’t wait for his response. Instead, I turn on my heel and march out of the room, too seething to continue this conversation.
He curses under his breath as I leave the office, but I don’t stop until I reach my room.
“Screw him.” I collapse onto my bed.
I stare at the ceiling, blinking furiously against the tears that threaten to spill over.
How is it that only hours ago he had my body trembling with pleasure, and now I want nothing more than to put his head through a window?
God, why do I even care? It’s not like I expected him to be grateful for what I did, but I also didn’t expect him to kick me out of his bed for it. Not that I thought that’s where I would be, but still.
Was what I did really that bad?
Okay, so I shouldn’t have been snooping around his computer, but I’m not some idiot. I know what I’m doing when it comes to tech, and I know that updating his payment system will likely save his ass in the long run. But for some reason, all Ronan sees is betrayal and yet another reason not to trust me.
“Fuck.” I throw my arms over my face.
This is the exactoppositeof what I wanted to happen. Updating his system was meant to gain me access to his family, not shut me out even more.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, trying hard not to cry because Ronan Sullivan doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.
Instead, I force myself off the bed, too wound up to even think about going back to sleep, and grab some clean workout clothes from the closet, then head into the bathroom to get ready. Splashing some cold water on my face and brushing my teeth makes me feel a little better, but my hands are still shaking so much from the interaction with Ronan that it takes me a second to lace up my sneakers.
By the time I open my bedroom door and peek into the hallway, Ronan’s bedroom door is closed and the light is off.
Good.
I don’t want to see his face right now, or quite frankly, ever.
I creep downstairs, moving as quietly as I can so as not to wake the sleeping lion, and head into the kitchen.
My gaze immediately lands on the discarded dinner that I spent hours making, and my throat tightens.
Last night, Ronan looked like he was willing to extend a hand, to open up to me in a way that was unnatural for him. For a moment, I actually believed that we could get along, and not just when his head was between my thighs. But I should have known better.
There’s no denying the chemistry we have when we’re naked. But it seems when we’re fully clothed, we can’t stop wanting to tear each other’s throats out.
I stalk over to the table, pick up the discarded plates and toss the food right in the trash and empty the rest of the wine down the sink. Then I make it a point to get everything neat and clean, as if that alone could erase everything that happened.
Once I’m done, I pour myself a glass of orange juice and gulp it down, wincing at how cold it is. My stomach also growls, but I ignore it because I’m too wound up to eat. Instead, I wash my used glass, dry it, put it away, and slip out of the back door.
The early morning air is cool and crisp against my skin, and I inhale deeply, letting it fill my lungs as I walk around the side of the house toward the driveway.
The grass glistens with dew, and the first hints of the sunrise peek along the horizon in streaks of pale pink and orange. But I don’t stop to admire it.
I need to get far away from this house before I decide to go back inside and murder Ronan in his sleep. Or beg him to take me back to his bed.
Fuck.
After stretching my arms over my head and groaning at the slight ache in my muscles, I set off down the long winding driveway at a slow jog. It’s been a long time since I went for a run, but after just a few minutes, my muscles remember what to do, and I fall into an easy rhythm, my feet pounding against the ground with every step.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe.
I used to love running. I was the star of the track team in high school as well as college. It was a way for me to escape when life got messy. When my da was fighting with my mom or when the mafia wars were creeping closer and closer to home.
Running gave me a sense of freedom that I couldn’t find in my day-to-day life, but once my father died, my sneakers began collecting dust.
