rebellious present.
“You still with me?” he whispered in a husky tone as he closed the door softly behind her. His apartment was on the second floor, and they made their way up with careful footsteps.
“Of course.”
The landing held a single potted plant and twin doors. Ronan walked to the left one, still holding her hand as though he was worried she might vanish like a puff of smoke. They stepped into his apartment, and he shut the door behind them with a soft snick.
Ronan released her for a moment to hang his keys on a hook and to dump his wallet and phone out of his jeans into a small ceramic bowl. She got the feeling this “unloading” was how he separated himself from the world.
“You’re very quiet,” he said.
She lowered her gaze. “I don’t want to say something that might risk where this is going.”
“Where do you want it to go, Audrey?”
How long had it been since she was with a man? One year…more? No, it had to have been two. At least. She’d forgotten how this was supposed to work. Her eyes flicked around the darkened apartment. Neither of them had turned the lights on, and the only glow came from a lamp outside, shining in through a window and reflecting on the raindrops still smattered on the glass.
It was like being in their own private bubble. For once, she could voice her desires without fear of repercussion.
“I hope it’s going to the bedroom.” She offered up a tentative smile, which bloomed into something more when she saw that Ronan was coming closer still, seemingly undeterred by her awkwardness. “Or maybe the couch…or a countertop somewhere. I’m open to suggestions.”
“Really?” He was in front of her now, one hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, curling it around her ear with such tenderness that it was a miracle she didn’t melt on the spot. “I’ve always been a fan of up against a wall.”
“Good suggestion.” She nodded, her breath hitching when his lips came down to her neck and he slowly backed her up. “Although, not to be a stickler for details, but this is a door.”
Ronan laughed and nipped at her neck. He braced one palm against the door and used his free hand to explore the hem of her camisole. The brush of his knuckles as he toyed with the soft fabric sent a shower of energy through her. She felt like one of those sparklers they’d saved for the Fourth of July, ready to light up the night.
“Sorry, I…” She gasped as his hand slid against her bare skin, finding its way under her top and up over the softness of her belly. “I never know what to say, especially with this stuff. I’m not…I’m not smooth.”
“Smooth is overrated.” Ronan cupped her breast, catching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching her.
Audrey bit down on her lip and let her head roll back. Hard wood met the back of her skull with a thunk, and she let her eyes flutter shut. The sound of the rain starting up outside was a cocoon around them. She shifted on the spot, widening her legs as Ronan pushed against her. His jeans and belt rasped against her where her camisole was pulled up, and the hard ridge of his cock dug into her belly. The evidence that he wanted her as much as she wanted him filled Audrey with warmth.
She looped her arms around his neck and dragged his head down to hers, opening her mouth for him. He tasted sweet and earthy, and the scratch of his facial hair against her tender skin was like flint sparking against flint.
Ronan’s hand found its way between her legs, and his kiss swallowed her moan.
After a glorious minute, he pressed his forehead to hers. “So what’s the verdict? Bedroom, couch, countertop, or wall?”
“Can I be greedy and say all four? In any order. Maybe twice through.”
Ronan let out a strangled sound. “You’re going to kill me, Audrey. You’re going to kill me in the best way possible.”
“Actually, you can be three times more likely to have a heart attack during or immediately after sex than when not having sex.”
“Of course you have a fact for that.” Ronan cupped her face and planted a sweet kiss against her lips.
“Although to be fair, I think that was referring to a man in his fifties.”
Shut. The. Hell. Up.
“If I could live in your brain for just