Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Suddenly, the bell chimes, and the door sweeps open, bringing a dusting of snow on a pair of black combat boots. Long legs in black jeans, a heavy charcoal duster, long hair the color of midnight, and piercing green eyes bulldoze my defenses.
Ronan. And he’s alone.
My breath catches.
Without taking his eyes off me, he shuts the door and sheds his duster, revealing a tight black T-shirt that clings to the flexing, rolling muscles of his chest.
He strides straight toward me. My heart starts banging against my chest.
“Ronan.” I do my best to keep my voice even. “Scotch?”
“Double, no rocks.”
I know. I’ve memorized everything I can about the man. The dark tumble of his hair. The devil-may-care glitter of his eyes. His sharp jaw. The slight cleft of his chin. The sexual curl of his lips. And don’t get me started on his body…
Quickly, I pour his drink, then set it in front of him. Before I can retreat, he plunks his money down and grabs my wrist. “I came to talk to you.”
I know what he wants. And I’m far too tempted. If I have sex with him, he’ll only find someone else—probably in my pub—to grace his bed tomorrow.
And I’ll be gutted.
Over the past two years, I’ve come to know Ronan. At first as a gorgeous customer with a quick wit and an even quicker mind. He chatted, told jokes, and made me laugh. When I sprained my ankle last spring, he volunteered to clean up the pub and close. He brought me soup and checked in while I recovered. He made me feel important.
My cat went missing a few months later. He helped me search for Misty and held my hand while I worried. He rejoiced with me when she finally wandered home a week later. He even brought me a bottle of my favorite wine to celebrate.
My desire for him deepened, especially when he started flirting, asking about me, and staring as if no other woman existed. Before long, he cajoled me into divulging confidences, like the fact that I bought this pub because I hated my desk job, and my father’s sudden passing made me realize that life is too short to spend it miserable. Instead of tuning out like most men, Ronan listened. He cared about my grief, my plans, even my feelings in a way Edward never did.
When I admitted that I missed having a mother growing up, Ronan empathized, since his mother abandoned him and his twin at birth. From there, we connected on a level that felt far more than physical. I began fantasizing about him.
But he left every night with another woman, so I resigned myself to Ronan never being more than a friend.
Until recently, when he abandoned flirting and started trying to seduce me.
Telling him no night after night physically hurts. I want him that badly. The more I resist, the more I ache. The more insistent he becomes. Possessive, too. He clearly dislikes Tynan, and I’ve let Ronan think we’re more than friends because if I give into him, I’m not sure I’ll recover when he shags someone else.
“Let me go.” I tug against Ronan’s hold.
Reluctantly, he does, then downs his scotch in three long swallows. My desire sparks as I watch his Adam’s apple bob in the strong column of his neck.
He slams his empty glass to the bar and pins me with a scorching stare. “I burn for you, Kari. I can’t pretend anymore. I ditched my brother tonight. He’s furious, and I don’t care. You’re a fever I can’t shake.”
The kind Tynan described? Unlikely. That’s just my wishful thinking. If Ronan suspects I’m his mate, why wouldn’t he simply say so? Or try to kiss me? I can’t think of a single reason, which tells me he’s just feeling good, old-fashioned lust.
But the gravity in his eyes feels like more.
“Where is Raiden?”
“Elsewhere.”
My stupid heart lifts with hope. I tamp it down. “Translation: he’s finding you someone to shag.”
“I told him to go alone. I don’t want anyone else.”
Tonight maybe. Tomorrow, when he’s had his fill, he’ll be gone for good. I shouldn’t take the risk.
“That’s a pretty whopper.”
Ronan leans in, his eyes like lasers, fierce and direct. “That’s the sodding truth. I know nothing about the women I spend the night with. But you… I know you drink only one sort of chardonnay, and you must have lemon with your water. I know you hate anyone to see you cry and that you’re too stubborn for your own good. I know you can argue with most anyone and win. I know the only romance you allow yourself is in books. And I know you’re afraid of me.” He seizes my hands again and holds tight. “You’re sweet and kind. You’re funny. You listen, you care, and you help everyone around you. You’re too incredible to be alone.”