Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,33
animal.
Ronan kept his hand in mine, just walking down the dirt path. It was nice. Ryde and I had only ever been on dates in the public eye or at my house. Everything felt forced, difficult, but with Ronan it was easy because I only needed to be myself.
“I've been thinking about you,” he said softly.
I glanced at him and saw a small smile on his lips. “Yeah? What were you thinking about?”
He slowed so he could take my other hand in his, and we came to a complete stop, standing only inches apart from each other.
“I've been thinking about this.” He leaned in and carefully placed his lips along my jaw.
Shivers went down my spine, and he hadn’t even kissed me on the lips yet. I could feel his breath on my skin, and it was pure magic.
“And this,” he added, kissing the exposed skin of my neck.
I was putty in his hands, and all I wanted to do was reach up and run my fingers through his hair, but he held my hands firmly in his. Slowly, he leaned back, and I lifted my heavy eyelids, trying to clear through the fog of want that was building in me and clouding my judgment.
“I've been thinking about you too,” I breathed.
He smiled like my response made him happy, and then continued walking. I didn't know how he was moving, but my legs took action on their own, and I continued walking with him. How he could just move on after transforming the spark of need inside me into a blazing bonfire, I didn't know. I simply followed, silently begging for answers. For more.
“How was your day?” he asked.
It seemed like such a mundane question for Ronan, but I answered anyway. “I got to pair with one of my friends to cover something in current events.” I waited to see if that sparked any recognition, but his face was an unreadable mask.
“What did you learn about?”
I struggled with whether or not to mention the new hospital wing. I couldn’t ruin this moment. Ruin the easy way he walked with me and the gentle way he held my hand. Maybe that made me selfish, but was keeping someone from pain ever the wrong answer? “The police are cracking down on Dulce Periculum.”
He seemed amused by that. “What are they doing?”
I shrugged. “Something about adding extra security around town and questioning of subjects brought in for vandalism.”
“But DP doesn’t vandalize anything,” he said.
“How are we supposed to know that for sure, though? They’re about as obscure as it comes.”
He shook his head. “Ever since the group started a hundred years ago, people have been speculating about them and making up rumors just because they don't know the truth. People are afraid of what they don't know.”
“You seem to know a lot about them. Are you sure you're not one of them?” I teased.
He shook his head. “I did a project on them while I was in school. There's years and years of speculation, but hardly any real evidence.”
I simply shrugged. I definitely didn't know as much about them as he did. “One of my friends thinks that they helped her and her boyfriend come together. I guess they saw them on the trails, actually, and it kind of gave her the courage she needed to make a move.”
“Sometimes we just need a little push.” Ronan smiled, seeming genuinely happy at the story. Was he a closet romantic?
Not much with Ronan was straightforward. I felt like I got little clues every now and then and had to put them together like a detective. Each book he read, author he referenced, micro reaction—they told me more and more about him.
“So why the trail?” I asked finally.
“I figured you didn’t want to hang out in a one-bedroom apartment with three other guys.”
I lifted my eyebrows. Another clue. He lived in an apartment with roommates. I couldn’t imagine fitting four people in a one bedroom, though.
At my expression, he said, “It isn't so bad. I'm hardly around anyway.”
“What do you do when you're not working or whisking women away on motorcycle rides?” I asked, a teasing hint in my voice to cover just how much I wanted to know.
“I work out or write at the library.” I was barely wrapping my mind around that when he added, “And for the record, you're the only woman who's ever been ‘whisked away’ on the back of my motorcycle.”
Twenty-Two
I lay down on my bed that night, looking forward to