"Tipsy, not drunk. There's a difference."
"We shouldn't…"
"Shouldn't what, Pixie girl?"
He pressed closer. The sharp edge of the windowsill cut into my back, but I was more concerned about the way his proximity sent my heart rate shooting into the stratosphere.
Anton had never made me feel this way. With him, I'd never felt much of anything, if I was being honest. Numb had long been a natural state for me.Comfortable.Emotions scared me.
"I can't," I protested. In my head, at least. But Ronan wasn't listening. He cupped my jaw, his lips hovering over mine. This was insane. Surely he knew I was off-limits?
"Shhh, you're over-thinking this."
I wanted to push him away, tell him no. But I had no willpower. For years, I'd dreamed of this moment. Imagined what it would be like to kiss Ronan…Conal…but they were just stupid crushes. I never thought he'd want me.They'dwant me.
"Say no and I'll leave right now."
"I…I…want…this."
The minute the words were out, his mouth claimed mine.
I'd kissed very few guys. Not wanted to, mostly. But kissing Ronan…or rather, him kissing me, because I was not in control here, caused fireworks to explode in my belly. No man had ever kissed me like this before.
Ronan pulled me across his lap, one arm around my waist.
Our kiss deepened until nothing mattered but his hard body pressed against my soft curves. A large hand gripped my hip, the other tangled in my hair.
The book I held fell to the floor with a clatter. Outside, the wind howled around the old house, rattling the windows like an angry ghost trying to force entry.
His hard length pressed into my ass. Was it me or just the alcohol? The voice in my head said he was horny, and I was the only available female. Feeling second best was natural to me. It didn't seem a stretch to think perhaps Ronan wasn't truly interested inme; more likely, he wanted to get laid.
The idea of being a stand-in for some hot chick he'd left behind in the bar provided a cold dose of reality. I pushed him back, still breathless, but sure this was a terrible idea. Even if I wanted him - and boy, I wanted him - letting him use me wasn't right. I had more self-respect than that.
Didn't I?
"What's wrong, Pixie?" he asked, his gray eyes almost black.
"This is a bad idea," I attempted to force out, but he held me tight, refusing to let me go.
"No, it's not."
"You could have anyone," I reminded him.
"I don't want anyone, Pixie. Just you and your amazing tits." He sounded genuine, but his reputation as a charming Lothario meant I didn't believe him.
"My name's Verity, not Pixie, and my tits..." I shut up, deciding to skip past that comment. His use of the pixie nickname irritated me. I wasn't small and petite.
"Pixie suits you better."
"Because I'm short?"
He snorted before brushing a loose strand of hair away from my hot cheeks. "Because you're cute and I want to take care of you." The softness of the words surprised me. Unlike me, the Ronan Kelly I knew wasn't soft. Far from it, in fact. Ronan Kelly's unlimited capacity for violence justifiably scared most people meeting him for the first time.
"I don't need anyone to look after me."
"Yes, you do." He was right. Dad would look for me, and if he found me, who knew what would happen? "Now shut up and let me kiss you."
Before I could protest some more, his mouth found mine, exploring, teasing me. I could taste the whiskey he'd drunk, and the cigarettes he'd smoked. I hated smoking, but nothing about Ronan turned me off. Far from it.
