Page 38 of Naughty Irish Liar

I handed over the coat and tossed my purse on the sectional couch before choosing a seat.

“I take it we’re going to have one of those debrief conversations I hear people have after sex?” I started and saw him arch a brow from over his shoulder. He’d come back into the room carrying a glass of whiskey for himself and what looked like red wine, he handed to me. “Let me make this easy for you, Ronan. I wanted to sleep with you. My virginity and now lack of it, is my business and if you feel any sense of responsibility, then don’t. I enjoyed myself, you could tell how much. You don’t owe me anything. You said just sex and the handful of orgasms I got were divine. Case closed.” Provoking, I took a little glimpse at him from under my lashes.

Proud of myself for not stuttering over any words under the intense scrutiny of firing ocean-blue eyes.

“Are you quite finished with the bratty mouth?”

“Sure,” I waved my free hand, “go ahead, you have the floor. But if you dare bring me here to then insult me by saying you regret it or such similar bullshit, then white carpet or not, I will be hurling this red wine at you, Ronan. Fair warning.”

“Fuck sake, that mouth doesn’t quit, does it,” he said quietly, sitting on the arm of the opposite chair.

The cavernous feeling in my stomach refused to be filled by anything else, anyone else. And that sucked for me.

“I should have filled it with my cock instead of your unused pussy, maybe today you’d be less talkative.”

I started to choke on a sip of wine as it slipped down the wrong pipe and the asshole did nothing to help, just went on sitting there and waited for my coughing to come to an end. “Gee, thanks for the help,” I fired a scowl.

He sipped. He stared. And this went on for around two minutes.

My knee jiggled with nerves, so I got to my feet again. “Am I allowed to look around or do you have scores of women chained up in this place?”

Again with the eyebrow. He motioned his head to the hallway, so I carried my wine and went to look around.

I fell in love with each room. I could see myself trying to make scrambled eggs on the big electric stove and probably burning them. And then I pictured sinking chin deep into the huge tub in one of three bathrooms. I hated that this was the first time I was in his home and I speculated if I’d ever have a real reason for being here again.

I stared far too long at the king size sleigh shaped bed imagining how I’d feel beneath the plain white cotton sheets or pressed up against the huge gray headboard. It needed more pillows. Why did men never buy enough pillows?

He was still sitting exactly where I’d left him when I returned.

“I can report I didn’t find anything hinky. I’m surprised. I like it though, it’s very you.”

“I want to fuck you again,” he spoke finally right when I was draining my wine glass of the last sip. As before, it plummeted down the wrong pipe and after my eyes watered and my lungs almost came up my throat I pointed a finger at him.

“Jesus almighty, will you quit throwing out those announcements when I have fluids in my mouth, Ronan!”

“I want to do it regularly, as often as I can, until I’m fully fucking sated of you, Catherine.”

A hunger I’d only experienced withthisguy fizzed and popped through all my sexually aware nerve endings and what had been an air-conditioned room suddenly became hot as hell as I tried to inhale thick syrupy air.

“You don’t look very happy about wanting to sleep with me,” I remarked when he lifted his eyes from where they’d been roaming over my body. How could a scowl be so sexy? It tightened his jaw muscles to sharp edges, dropped his brows and I wanted to sit on that stern face.

“Fuck, Catherine. I want tofuck you,not sleep with you.”

I laughed. Not sure if I should be insulted.

“So what are you saying? I get kicked out after you come? You won’t win prizes for romance, Ronan.”

“Let’s not pretend this thing between us follows guidelines, princess. We want each other. Last night more than proved that when you clawed my skin off every time I pushed into you. Was one time enough for you?”

“No,” I answered truthfully.

I’d once ruined the beginning of what I thought could have been something great between us by omitting the truth of my age. I wasn’t about to lie to him now.

A large part of me wanted to object to his indecent proposal, to throw it back in his face with how insulting it was for him to put an end goal on burning out his lust for me. Like three fast tumbles and he’d be cured.

But we all knew how weak I was for him.

Even now my insides were jello and my heart kept skipping important beats.

---