Page 83 of Ruthless Savior
He’s not thinking of this the same way I am. And even if I could tempt him into it, is that really what I want?
Or do I want him to desire this as much as I do?
“I’m leaving in the morning,” Ronan says abruptly, cutting off my train of thought. “I wanted to get you and your mother settled in here, but I need to go back to Boston and deal with what’s happening there.”
I blink, startled. “Are you not coming back?” The thought upsets me more than it should. I’d expected him to be here to… I don’t know. Show me around? Introduce me to this place that’s part of his heritage and mine?
It’s ridiculous, I realize. Even thinking that is ridiculous. Ronan is a mob boss, not a tour guide. And he’s gone far above and beyond in doing all of this for me and my mom. Expecting him to hang out and play host would be insane.
“I’ll be back,” he says quickly, and the relief I feel is startling. “In a few days to a week, depending on how things are back in Boston. I’m going to come back and forth,” he adds, as if he’s noticed my unintended distress. “You won’t be left here on your own for too long. And there will be ample security at all times. I've left information about doctors in the area. Specialists who can help with your mother's treatment while you're here. And Mrs. O'Brien knows to get you anything you need."
I nod, my fingers tightening around my teacup. “You’ve been generous with everything, Ronan. More than generous. That’s… we’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about us.”
“You’re my wife,” he says firmly, and the sound of it on his lips sends a jolt through me. “For now, anyway,” he adds. “I take that seriously, Leila, regardless of the circumstances.”
He finishes his tea and sets the cup aside, turning back to look at me. "The security team has strict orders. You don't go anywhere without them, and you don't let anyone onto the property who isn't cleared. I know it seems like overkill, but?—"
"I understand," I interrupt. "I'll be careful."
Another silence stretches between us. Ronan lets out a breath. “I’m going to get ready for bed,” he says abruptly. “Unless you’d like to do so first.”
Of course.We’re not going to change in front of each other. Not going to share the bathroom as we get ready for bed like an ordinary couple. Sharing the bedroom is for show.
“Um… you can go first,” I manage, cringing at how awkward it sounds. “I’m still… uh… drinking my tea.”
Ronan nods, and I think I see the muscle in his cheek jump slightly. Then he goes to collect his bag, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door firmly behind him.
My mind flicks back to the trip here, to what happened on the private jet, and my cheeks heat. I duck my head, taking another sip of my tea as I stare at the fireplace and try not to remember what it looked like when I walked in on Ronan. The expression of animal lust on his face, his hard cock jutting free of his fly, his fist wrapped around it, stroking…
Heat blooms through me, and my lungs feel tight. I set my cup down with a clatter, running my hands through my hair. I can’t think about this when I’m going to have to share a bed with him tonight…
The door clicks open, and Ronan steps back into the bedroom. A relieved breath rushes out of me when I see that he’s wearing pajama pantsanda t-shirt… even if the t-shirt hugs hismuscles a bit too closely for comfort and bares his tattooed arms. At least he’s not shirtless.
My stomach still feels tied up in knots as I watch him walk to the bed, my pulse fluttering. The pajama pants aren’t tight, but they do nothing to hide the shape of his thick cock beneath. I feel dizzy just looking at him.
God, I want him. I want my husband, and there’s nothing I can do about it, because he’s determined not to touch me.
I grab my own overnight bag, retreating to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and try not to think about how I know exactly what Ronan looks like under those clothes. I have a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top in my bag, and right now I feel so overheated—for reasons that have nothing to do with the fireplace warming the room—that even that feels like too much clothing.
Quickly, I change, brush my teeth, and wash my face. When I come back out, the only light in the room comes from the sconces on either side of the bed, and Ronan is beneath the covers on the very far side of his side of the bed. I go to mine, keeping as far to the other side as I can, and flick off the light, wishing I had a book. Anything to focus on other than the fact that Ronan is so close to me, in the same bed.
He turns off his light. “Good night, Leila,” he says, his voice low, and I feel that prickling heat rush across my skin again.
“Good night,” I manage.
Fuck. In the dark, I can hear him breathing, slow and even, and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep so quickly. He can’t be completely unaffected by this—the fact that I caught him jerking off in the bathroom of the private jet seems like evidence enough that he wants me, even if he keeps saying we can’t continue the physical side of our relationship.
My entire body feels tense. There’s a throbbing ache between my legs, and I know I’m wet. I feel unnaturally attuned to hisevery movement, and I have no idea how I’m going to fall asleep like this.
Maybe it’s for the best that he’s leaving,I think, as I lie there wide awake in the darkness.
Otherwise, the way Ronan O’Malley makes me feel might just start to drive me mad.
20
LEILA
Somehow, I must have managed to fall asleep eventually, because I woke to sunlight streaming into the room and an empty space in the bed next to me.
