If I ever meet that terrible Gwen, I’ve got some choice words for her—words I’d never want Haley hearing me say.
At the thought of it, anger surges, and I scrub the kitchen sink harder. I scowl at a tiny fleck of dried food as I rub at it, feeling irrationally irritated that it won’t come right off. Pausing, I give the spot another spray of cleaner, then attack it with a vengeance. But the stupid thing could be super glue, for all I’m trying.
“You don’t have to clean.”
Startling at the sudden sound, I yelp in surprise. The bottle of cleaning spray slips from my hand. I watch it fall, in one of those moments that seems to happen in slow motion, and it hits the floor just at the wrong angle, snapping the top off and dumping cleaner all over the ceramic tile.
“Shit!” I mutter. A beat later, I correct myself out of instinct. “Darn. I mean darn.”
“Angel.” Ronan hurries across the kitchen to me. His features are creased in apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.” I grab a handful of paper towels and crouch down to clean up my mess. “I just thought you were still in your office. And Murphy’s asleep.” I angle my head at Murphy curledup in his dog bed. Except now he’s watching us with interest, presumably awakened by the sound of the bottle hitting the floor. “Or he was,” I amend. “So I wasn’t expecting to hear anything.”
Ronan kneels beside me and takes the wad of paper towels from my hand. “Let me do it.”
“I made the mess,” I insist.
“Because I startled you.” He looks at me with a worried expression. “I really am sorry. I didn’t think.”
One thing I don’t want is Ronan feeling like he has to apologize about everything to make things up to me. “Don’t be sorry because you were talking in your own house. That’s silly.” I scoop up the now-empty bottle of cleanser and give the broken nozzle a sour glance. “I dumped cleaning product all over your floor. And I broke the bottle. So really, I’m the one who should be sorry.”
Ronan gives the floor a final wipe. “The floor needed to be cleaned anyway.” Then he stands and holds out his hand to help me up. Once we’re both standing, he takes both the bottle and the paper towels and heads over to the garbage bin to throw them away.
I turn back to the sink and quickly wash my hands. Unable to resist it, I scratch at the stupid bit of food still clinging inside.
“It looks clean to me,” Ronan says as he joins me. “And you don’t need to clean while you’re here. You should be relaxing instead.”
I barely stifle a snort. Relaxing? After my house was broken into? After a bag of drugs was found in my bedroom? With my life in chaos and no idea when it’ll get back to normal?
But instead of saying all that, I just point at the spot in the sink. “There. It won’t come off. I don’t know if it’s made from some industrial-strength glue or something.”
Ronan leans in to look. “Oh, that. I can barely even see it.” Then he grabs the sponge, flips it over to the scrubby side, and gives the spot a quick rub. “See? It’s gone.”
“What?” I stare into the sink. “I was scrubbing at that for ages. How did you?—”
“Muscles,” he says with a grin. He turns away from the sink and flexes his arm. His biceps pop. A vein bulges where it peeks out from beneath his T-shirt. And shoot. I never much thought about the veins on a man’s arm before. But now that I’m looking, it’s actually quite sexy.
Stubborn spots fade into unimportance as my gaze travels across Ronan’s arm. Not that I haven’t seen his bare arm before, but there’s just something about it right now. Maybe it’s the late-morning sun catching the dusting of hair, turning it from brown to gold. Maybe it’s the play of shadows on the muscles of his forearm. Maybe it’s the strength I felt when he held me, right there, on display.
Realizing I’ve been blatantly staring at Ronan’s arm instead of talking to him like a normal person, I jerk my gaze up to his. He’s not grinning anymore. His smile is more speculative. Desire flares in his eyes.
Something hot and needy comes to life inside me. My lungs squeeze. My core clenches.
For a moment, all my worries tumble away like dandelion seeds on the wind. It’s just me and Ronan. Alone. With nothing keeping us from doing the things I haven’t dared when Haley’s around.
From there, my imagination takes flight.
In my mind’s eye, I see us doing all the things I’ve fantasized about.
First, he drags me into his arms and kisses me. One hand comes to the back of my head, tipping it back as our kiss grows deeper. Hungrier.
His other hand comes to the small of my back, tugging me flush to his body. I can feel his erection jutting hard against my belly. My breasts feel full. Heavy. My nipples are almost unbearably sensitive, sending zips of electricity through my body every time they brush against Ronan’s chest.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, Ronan cups my cheek, his touch gentle like he’s handling the most fragile crystal. The gold flecks in his eyes are like fire as he looks at me. His features are hard and taut with need.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “So damn beautiful.” Then he kisses me again.
This time as he kisses me, he walks me backwards to the island. When we reach it, he lifts me onto the counter and spreads my legs so he can step between them. “So beautiful,” he repeats as he carefully lays me back. His gaze burns into me as he drags his hand down my chest and stomach. Then he puts his hand between my legs and keeps it there while my core aches desperately for him.
