"A couple of hours. How are you?"
I cataloged my aches and pains and realized that actually, I felt OK. Still sore, but not as achy as before. The heat therapy (if one could call sex in a sauna 'heat therapy') definitely helped. Not that I'd admit it. Ronan's head was big enough already.
"Not too bad. I'll live." I tried to pull away, but he held me too tightly. His mouth nuzzled my neck while his cock nudged my ass. If I lifted my thigh, it would take very little effort for him to enter me.
Then I pictured Saoirse's horrified expression if she found out I'd fucked her brother. I needed to be strong. One of us had to be, as Ronan clearly had zero willpower.
"We can't do this again," I protested, but the more I pulled away, the tighter he held me.
His fingers dipped between my thighs. A groan vibrated against my neck when he realized how wet I was.
"Fuck, Pixie, open your legs. Let me in."
"No." My refusal sounded half-hearted at best. A light touch on my clit, a tweak of my nipple, and my resolve shattered. He yanked up my trembling thigh and pushed inside me.
"You're so hot and tight around me. So perfect."
My belly jiggled as he pounded into me from behind, but I shoved the hyper-critical inner voice in my head down.
Ronan wanted me. He thought I was beautiful.
"Come for me, Pixie," Ronan urged, circling my clit with his fingers. My body tensed as I hovered on the precipice, strung tighter than a bow, and then I fell apart. Ronan thrust hard a few more times before groaning as he came, too.
As the aftershocks faded and Ronan slid out, leaving an unholy mess between my thighs, I wondered how I'd survive if Ronan did his usual thing and lost interest now he'd had me.
He murmured something incoherent against the back of my neck as his brawny arm held me tight. It sounded a lot like "you're mine, Pixie," but my eyes fluttered closed again before I could unpick what that meant.
Just as I drifted back into sleep, Ronan's bedroom door flew open and Conal burst in, silhouetted in the doorway.
"Ro! Verity's missing! Have you seen—" Then Conal saw me, lying in his twin's bed, and his expression morphed from panic to fury in a heartbeat.
24
Declan
Thea's message popped up on my phone screen, joining the other ten million missed call notifications.
Call me right now fucker!
I ground my teeth and poured another drink. Today had turned into a complete shit show, with Bridget's departure for some fashion shoot in LA the only silver lining.
The longer she stayed away, the better. I did not need her bullshit right now, not with the O'Rourkes amping up their campaign against us.
Thea wasn't supposed to know about the crash; every time I picked up the phone to call her, something distracted me. I suspected Milo was monitoring my communications, although I didn’t know how - tech stuff wasn't my area of expertise.
She must have tried calling Verity and got no reply after Ash had destroyed her old SIM and phone.
Conal had read me some of the many horrific messages on her phone. No woman deserved to receive that level of misogynisticbullshit. If some guy had sent messages like that to my sisters or cousin, he'd be dead. The prick had better hope we never caught up with him.
I shoved aside my ideas for creative torture and picked up my phone. It was time I bit the bullet and called Thea Orliov before she jumped on a plane with her psycho Russian husband in tow.
"Thea, how's married life treating you?"
"Don't you sweet-talk me, Declan Kelly!" I winced. "What the fuck happened to my sister and why can't I get hold of her?"
"Verity has a new phone. I'll tell her to call you when she wakes up."
"You're supposed to protect her, Declan, so why was she caught up in a targeted attack on the estate and now a car crash?" Thea's voice cracked as emotion bled through, and I sighed. God knows I empathized with her.
