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Be mine.

She pulled one hand free and cupped his jaw. “You really have shitty taste in women, Marine,” she murmured.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Then he grinned. “Is that a yes?”

She tilted her head, giving him a considering look. “Honestly, I think us hooking up is an all-round bad idea.”

“It just so happens I’m an expert at renovation. Including turning bad ideas into brilliant ones, Deputy.”

“That’s Chief Deputy to you.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “My Chief Deputy.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips refused to disappear. She drained her glass, set it down, and slipped off the stool. “Let’s blow this joint, Marine.”

Ronan shot to his feet, dropping a few notes on the bar. “Lead the way, Chief.”

*

He followed her home, pulling in behind the van. Before she could even reach for the handle, he slid open the side door and climbed inside.

She turned to look at him. “And now?”

He glanced around the cramped interior. “This decrepit thing got a bed?”

Her heart leapt. “You need to stop insulting my van. It’s been good to me.”

He tugged her out of the seat. “Now it can be good to me, too. To us.”

Us.

Felicity laughed.

Then his lips were on hers, and she wasn’t laughing anymore. His kiss stole her breath, the sweep of his tongue against hers igniting the banked fire between them.

Jackets and boots were flung aside, landing wherever they fell.

Neither of them cared. Four months apart had been four months too long.

He was so right.

Them. Together.

That was all that mattered. The rest they’d figure out along the way.

But now…

The desire burning inside her, raw and soul-deep, went far beyond four months of separation. She craved him. Never, in all her life, had she expected to crave a man’s touch.

Determined to reclaim her sexuality, she had taught herself to accept, even enjoy, a man’s touch, his body. But always on her terms. And always, always with an expiration date.

Nothing had ever been permanent.

Nothing had ever mattered.

Until Ronan.