Those who stuck around to await the outcome of the Aether’s vision quest had decided to adjourn and relax for a bit at Lucky O’Malley’s Pub at Ronan’s suggestion. The tension from a day of planning had reached an all-time high, and nothing more was getting done.
Somewhere around Ronan’s third pint, his phone buzzed with an incoming text from Castor.
After reading it, he showed the others gathered around the table. “Sure, and it appears we have the rest of the night off. Everyone is free to make merry until tomorrow mornin’, when we’ll be forced to save the day.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what we were all doing anyway,” Brenna said dryly as she tapped her glass with Eoin’s.
“Yep, and Castor decided a group text was the way to go.” Trevor sputtered a laugh as Draven replied with a middle-finger emoji. “I guess I don’t have to tell you how much Draven hates group texts.”
“Almost as much as the scut hates mornings,” Fintan replied before taking a long pull of his pint to finish it off. “Can’t say as I blame him.”
Sleep had always been scarce for Ronan, and being neither a morning person nor a night owl, he had no particular opinion either way. His thoughts turned to other pleasurable activities associated with a mattress, and his attention was drawn to the woman he desired to be active with.
Across the pub, Dubheasa loaded a tray to serve up the locals. Ronan’s first instinct was to help her by relieving her of the weight and passing out the drinks himself, but he held back. If she wanted his assistance, she’d let him know in no uncertain terms.
“I’m going to do you a solid, O’Connor,” Trevor said as he rose to his feet. “I’m going to curtail my own fun for the evening and take Dubheasa’s shift. Go steal your woman away and enjoy yourselves while you can.”
Surprised by the kind gesture, Ronan stood and shook his hand. “You have my thanks, Blane.”
“Yeah, get out of here before I change my mind.”
Not needing to be told twice, Ronan crossed to Dubheasa and removed the empty tray from her grasp. After handing it off to Trevor, he pulled her against him and kissed her like he’d been dying to all night. As the passion clouded his brain and swiftly consumed other parts of his anatomy, he drew back and inhaled deep lungsful of air.
When passing out from lack of oxygen was no longer a concern, he tangled his hands in her hair and dove back in. A few of the drunker patrons catcalled and added their encouragement, but Ronan happily ignored them to taste his fill.
Dubheasa was the first to pull away, and her happy, flushed face made him feel ten feet tall.
“Your American is willin’ to assume your shift for the night, Dove. Are ya interested in having dinner with me, then?”
“Dinner? After all that snogging?” The disbelief in Bridget’s tone was laughable. “Sure, and I’m after thinking you’ll be doing more than having a bite to eat.”
Ruairí snorted and passed a fresh-drawn Guinness across the bar to Bridget. “More like a bite of each other. Let me know if you’re after takin’ a page from their book, mo ghrá, yeah? I’ll snog ya proper and make me cousin look like an amateur.”
Bridget grinned as he leered. “You’re a proper eejit, Ruairí O’Connor, but I love ya just the same.”
The dopey, lovesick look he gave her in return was a joy to witness.
“They’re feckin’ adorable,” Dubheasa said loudly, earning a scowl from her sister and a wink from Ruairí.
“Get out of me pub.” Bridget shooed them toward the door. “You’re useless as tits on a bull when ya only have eyes for your man.”
After bussing her sister’s cheek, Dubheasa grabbed Ronan’s hand and led him through the alley, pausing along the way to kiss him again and again. By the time they entered the Black Cat, they were laughing like small children and running for the stairs.
Maybe it was the freedom to be themselves without pretense. Or perhaps it was the lurking threat, but there was a wild playfulness to their antics. An unspoken agreement to lock the world outside and deal with their problems tomorrow. And as they approached Ronan’s room, he stopped her with a hand on her arm and tilted her chin to meet his steady gaze.
“Hi. I’m Ronan Fucking O’Connor, and I’m mad about you, I am,” he said as if being introduced to her for the first time.
She grinned, immediately understanding his intent to start fresh and leave all their previous woes behind them. “It’s my pleasure to be meeting ya, Ronan Fucking O’Connor. Are you interested in sharing a drink with me, then?”
“Here, and I thought you’d never ask.” With a chuckle and lightness in his heart, he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him.
Once inside, he strode to the cupboard, removed a bottle of Armand de Brignac Ace of Spades Rose, and then held it up. “I’ve been saving this. For you. For us.”
“For the day I would forgive you?” she asked softly, gentle understanding in her eyes.
“Do you? Completely?”
For the one long, heart-pounding moment she didn’t reply, all of Ronan’s fears came to the forefront, paralyzing him and numbing his mind. Only when she nodded and shot him a come-hither look did he breathe normally again.
“It took ya a feckin’ lifetime to decide,” he grumbled good-naturedly.
Dubheasa laughed at Ronan’s long-suffering expression.
With capable hands, he uncorked the bottle and poured them both a glass. Just before giving her the champagne flute, he frowned and glanced around.
“What’s wrong?” She didn’t sense any disturbance around them, but she didn’t have his capabilities.
“There’s no romance to this place. It’s a bit cold if I’m to be honest.”
Her brows shot up, and she almost warned him to never speak that way in front of Bridget, but he was smart and had a healthy sense of self-preservation.
After passing off both drinks, he crossed to the bed, shooting a cursory look at the walls and ceiling. With an absent nod, he closed his eyes and waved his hands in a wide arch. Sheer white, billowy curtains appeared, adorning the corners of the four-poster bed. Pale, cream-colored pillar candles of every size sat haphazardly atop every available surface. The glow they cast caused the shadows to dance in the farthest reaches of the room.
With a nod of satisfaction, he returned to Dubheasa and, with a shite-eating grin, took one of the flutes from her hand.
“Sure, and I worry we’ll need the fire brigade should we knock one of those grand candles into the curtains,” she said, tongue in cheek.
The happy expression dropped from his face and was replaced with a worried frown.
Laughing, she tapped his glass with hers. “Relax, Ronan. It’s after teasing you, I am.”
“Look, and I’ll not lie. Your feckin’ sister scares the bejeezus out of me.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”
Dubheasa sipped her drink, and her eyes widened in delighted surprise. “This is delicious!”
The Armand de Brignac Rosé was a gorgeous salmon-hued wine. Hints of blackcurrant and other red berries tickled her palate. Elegant and refreshing, it was the perfect compliment to their upcoming evening.
“I’ve only had it once, but the flavor stuck with me, and I knew you’d appreciate the taste.”
His thoughtfulness pleased her. Ronan was the type of man who would always strive to make their time together stellar. His brand of charm seemed effortless, yet Dubheasa suspected he wouldn’t leave a single thing to chance when it came to seduction.
Her mind drifted to making love, and an appreciative shiver skated along her spine. It was easy to see how one memorable night had become the thing she obsessed about so frequently. How other encounters failed to measure up to their one passionate experience.
“What are you doing to me?”
After removing the glass from her hand and setting both drinks on the closest surface, he cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, love?”
“You’ve got me twisted up inside, Ronan. All I can think about is your lips on mine. Your bare chest pressed against my—”
Swooping in, he captured her mouth, and the taste of the rosé was enhanced by the rich flavor that was uniquely his. She inhaled the clean scent of his freshly washed skin. The faintest hint of laundry soap tickled her senses, and she mentally smiled at the idea of Ronan washing his clothes. Of a certainty, he’d conjure what he needed and hire out the service.
His mind must’ve gone straight to clothes as well, or rather the removal of said clothes, because his large, capable hands were already pushing aside the loose collar of her shirt to access the skin at the V of her throat. As he slid his sensuous fingers up to cradle the back of her head, his mouth rained scorching kisses along the column of her neck, and heat pooled between her legs.
Tipping her head slightly, she allowed him better access and sighed her pleasure when he found the sweet spot below her ear. His lips trailed along her jaw to her mouth, and when he kissed her again, there was a desperate urgency in the gesture. One she matched.
Dubheasa’s knees were unsteady as Ronan pulled away to undo the buttons of her blouse. As soon as he parted the material, he sucked in a breath and released it with a low moan. “Jaysus! You’re more beautiful than I remember, Dove.”
Embarrassed by the reverence in his tone, she pressed against him and slid her arms around his neck to draw him close. “Shut the feck up and kiss me again,” she ordered.
His delectable mouth kicked up at the corners. “Sure, and I can do that. But ya need to be knowing I’m driving his car, yeah?”
She released a low growl of frustration.
His responding chuckle sent heat to all the proper places.
“You’ll do as I say, or I’ll be knowing the why of it,” she said.
But he didn’t zero in on her lips, instead choosing to use that magical tongue of his to lick and tease the sensitive skin between her breasts. Ronan made short work of her clothing, and within moments, she was laid bare before him. His hot quicksilver eyes ate her up, and she struggled to draw a breath under his searing gaze.
Her entire body clamored for his touch. And, as if reading her mind—and Goddess, she hoped he would—he teased the tip of her hardened nipple with his nose, lips, and tongue before drawing it into his mouth to suckle.
Jaysus!
The sensations he caused as his tongue swirled and his hands explored caused butterflies in her belly and goosebumps to form on her skin. The man was a master at passionate games, and she was the pawn, ready to do whatever he requested in any way he asked.
Ronan wasted no time lifting her and carrying her to the bed. Only releasing her long enough to strip his clothing, he joined her and pressed his body to hers. Dubheasa smiled as his rock-solid length came in contact with her belly. The rightness of his body against hers lightened her heart at the same time it fueled the fire in her veins.
Gripping her hand in his, he placed it on his cock.
“Touch me, Dove.”
“Gladly,” she murmured as she stroked the smooth flesh, delighting in the contrasting feel of this thick, hard dick and the silky skin encasing it.
As she pleasured him with her hand, his low moans emboldened her to spread her legs and guide him into her waiting passage. They both sucked in a breath as he seated himself fully inside her.
Closing her eyes in ecstasy, she arched up, pressing her hips to his.
“Jaysus, love! If ya don’t slow down…”
She read his mind and understood completely, as she was on the brink herself.
“It’s been too long, Ronan. Let me have this.”
“You can have all of me, Dubheasa O’Malley. Every last ounce.”
His fervent promise aroused her further. She molded her body to his, spreading her legs wider even as she wrapped them around his firm arse to anchor herself for what was to come.
“And I’ll gladly take it,” she replied, ending with a gasp as he shifted and thrust into her. As his big body rocked forward and back again, like a rhythmic piston, she gripped his buttocks with one hand and wrapped an arm around his torso, digging her nails into his back with the other. With each deep thrust, she moaned, “Yes!”
As her pleasure built to a crescendo, she sank her teeth into his muscled shoulder, burying her scream against his heated skin.
With an impassioned curse, he thrust a handful of times and followed her over the edge to release.
He didn’t immediately move off her, electing to stay connected as he buried his face against her throat and kissed the spot above her pounding pulse. “Somehow, that lasted much longer in my fantasies.”
She giggled. “Mine, too, but I’ll admit it was perfect, all the same.”
And Dubheasa realized her comment was the absolute truth; it had been perfect. She swallowed hard, trying to find the proper words to express what was in her heart.
“I know, love,” he murmured sleepily.
Stroking his thick hair, she marveled at the silky feel. “Never cut your hair, yeah? I want to fall asleep just like this every night.”
She felt his grin against her skin and shivered.
“Aye. Every night,” he agreed.