Time for a taste of his own medicine.
Tilting my head to the side, I give him a warning shake of my head. “Uh-uh, you’ve got to be silent, or I stop.”
His answering chuckle is cut off abruptly with a sharp nod when I squeeze the base of his cock gently, but the glint in his eyes is all I need to see.
Dipping my head down, I lick a circle around the tip of his cock, lapping up the salty precum that’s already started to leak. Ronan’s hands tangle in my hair as he holds me in place. I wrap my hand around his length, my other hand reaching between his legs to cup his balls. His fingers tighten, the tug on my hair slightly painful, but also making me wet between my own legs.
Opening wide, I envelop him in my mouth and slide down as far as I can go, letting my hands cover what I can’t. Up and down I move, closing my eyes and losing myself to the subtle sounds he can’t hold back, the feel of his hands in my hair, and the taste of him in my mouth.
“Willow, I’m gonna come.” His growled warning comes just a few minutes later, and instead of backing off, I intensify my movements, squeezing tighter, rocking up and down faster, until I feel his body tense and jets of cum hit my throat. I swallow him down, every single drop, until he curls over me, kissing my head, his hands coming under my arms to lift me up and into his embrace.
“Fuck. Cherry. That was…” he gasps into my ear in between kisses.
“I know,” I murmur back.
Eventually, we’re both dressed and he’s leading me to the front door where we lose another several minutes kissing each other. I know I have to go, but I really,reallydon’t want to, and the only thing making it okay is knowing a part of him wishes I didn’t have to, either.
“Someday soon, we’re gonna have an entire night together,” he growls into the top of my head after crushing me into his arms.
I nod against his chest, then force myself to step back. I move to lift his hoodie off, but he stops me.
“Keep it. It looks better on you, anyway,” he says roughly.
I go up on my tiptoes for one more kiss, keeping it brief this time. “Thank you. For tonight, for sharing your home and your daughter.” I finger the hoodie. “And your sweatshirt.”
He chuckles at that and kisses me once more. “Okay. You need to go before I change my mind and carry you to my bedroom to have my way with you.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” I say with a grin, even though I know that can’t happen. Not yet, at least.
But as I drive away, I let myself imagine a future where that could happen. Where I’m not leaving late at night, but instead falling asleep in his arms. Waking up to Peyton climbing in between us.
And I like that idea. I like it a lot more than I should, perhaps. Because that future will only be possible if I face the biggest risk of all.
Telling my uncle about our relationship.
Chapter twenty-eight
Ronan
Good thing I caught the fucking ball.
That’s honestly the only thing going through my head as I limp off the field, trying to hide the grimace of pain. In all my years of playing, never once have I landed wrong after leaping up to catch a pop fly. Until today. I knew the instant my foot rolled underneath me that it wasn’t good. I’m just hoping it’s not that bad, either. It’s only the fourth inning, and even though I’m smart enough to know I’m not likely to play anymore today, I’m holding out hope our team can beat these fuckers.
Lark is already waiting for me in her treatment room.
“Get me a cryotherapy boot.” Her barked command has one of the assistant trainers hustling out of the room as I haul myself up onto her table. “Geez, Ronan, you went down hard. How does it feel?”
“Like I came down on it wrong with all two hundred and ten pounds of body weight.” I wince as she removes my cleat and sock. There’s no bruising yet, which has me sighing in relief. A sentiment Lark soon echoes.
“Well, there’s no bruising and the immediate swelling is mild. I think you got away with just a —”
“Ronan? Are you okay?” Willow bursts through the door of Lark’s room with the assistant trainer fast on her heels with the cryo machine. She comes up short just before reaching for me, but I’m guessing it would be obvious to anyone looking there’s more to her reaction than simple professional concern.
“He’s fine,” Lark cuts back in, hip checking Willow away from my side with a pointed stare at her that tells me she at least suspects somethings going on. Willow steps back, and Lark starts to wrap my foot in the cryotherapy boot. “As I was just telling him, I think it’s a mild sprain. There’s no major bruising or swelling, so some good old rest and ice therapy for a couple of days will, hopefully, settle it down. But we’ll reassess tomorrow.”
She steps back after setting up the cold therapy and folds her arms across her chest, looking from Willow to me. Yeah, she knows something’s up, that’s very apparent, given the smirk she’s fighting back.
“I’m going to step out and deal with the injury reports. Willow, I’m guessing you need to talk to Ronan to prepare his statement?” She’s speaking loudly, and I quickly clue in it’s for the benefit of the coach and other people milling around in the main trainer room. “Take a few minutes here to do that while I update everyone.”
