Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I look up at him, trying to process his words. The tension that dissolved only moments ago returns with a new sort of pressure, and my head swirls with the frustration of trying to sort out this unfamiliar emotion.
“But as ye said, no point in talking about it,” Crow continues. “Just in case ye did care to know though, I told her yes.”
Chapter Ten
Sasha
I’m halfway between sleep and consciousness when I feel the weight of the bed dip. At first, I wonder if I’m dreaming. Because in my sleep addled brain that’s the only possibility I want to accept.
But when I catch the shadow of a man hovering over me, followed by his gloved hand sliding over my mouth, I try to scream. The hand clamps down tighter over my mouth, and all I can taste is the leather of his glove while I thrash beneath him.
He climbs on top of me and pins me with his weight, and tears leak out of my eyes unbidden. But when he leans forward, his scent lingers between us. Malt liquor and roasted pine nuts. And it has the immediate effect of calming me.
“Ronan?”
The question is muffled behind his glove, but when he senses me calming, he smooths my tangled hair away from my face. I can make out his eyes now in the dim light, wild with rare emotion. He isn’t wearing his glasses. And his suit jacket is missing, leaving only a crisp white button up stretched across his chest. His neck is corded, his breathing harsh. He’s angry. But I’m not afraid.
I reach up and pry his hand away from my mouth so I can talk freely.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you even get in?”
Those are the two most logical questions to ask in this situation, rather than why he’s sneaking into my room, scaring me half to death. Ronan always goes about things in odd ways, and it’s almost comical that I’ve come to expect this sort of behavior from him. He doesn’t answer me though, as usual, so I continue to push him.
“Talk to me,” I insist. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I don’t actually expect him to answer. He never answers me. So this time when he does, it shocks the ever living hell out of me.
“You didn’t tell me,” he says.
His voice is accusing, tinged with hurt and anger.
“I didn’t tell you what?”
“About Donovan.”
Shame wells up inside of me, and I blink back tears as I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to try to explain my logic. It will never make sense to him. These guys, they all think the same. He would be offended if I told him I was trying to protect him. But the alternative is even worse.
“I knew what you would do to him if I told you,” I whisper. “I don’t think you would be able to help yourself. Just like with Blaine.”
He’s quiet and still, studying me with his eyes. Those eyes make me feel exposed. Like I can’t hide from him. But right now, I don’t want to.
“Am I right, Ronan?”
Silence. I hate his silence. I don’t understand why he can’t just talk to me. Why it’s so hard for him to talk to me, but not everyone else.
“I knew what the consequences would be if you killed him,” I say. “And I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let anything happen to you because of me. Because of what you did for me.”
He doesn’t blink. Or move. Or show any sort of a response to my confession whatsoever, except for an overwhelming sadness in his eyes. It makes me feel like I betrayed him. He can’t understand. He could never understand.
“I know what you must think of me,” I attempt to justify. “But I never gave him my body. I did things I’m not proud of to keep him quiet. But I just wanted him to keep his mouth shut. I just wanted…”
A sob bursts from my lips, and Ronan lowers his body over mine, swallowing me up completely. He’s got me pinned, the heat of his body soaking into mine. He expels a deep breath. And then another. He’s wrestling with himself. Eye fucking me while he tries to talk himself out of it at the same time. But it’s too late. We both know it.
He’s on me then. His hands are on my body, groping me. They feel huge against me. Rough and calloused. The hard to my soft. His face is buried in my hair, wrecking it as his nose drags along my neck. He’s breathing me in. Taking another hit of me like it’s the thing he’s been jonesing for all this time. His cock jams against my hip bone when he grinds into me.