Ronan eyes me slyly and I feel the back of his hand against mine. My skin tingles and my stomach flutters at his touch. I can feel his pulse through the veins that run just under his rough skin. It’s slow and steady—I want it to quicken up and match my racing heart.
Without giving him much of a choice, I intertwine my fingers with his until our palms are flat together. His hand dwarfs mine, and I’m injected with a shot of pure, warm arousal. My legs go weak, but Ronan’s grip is enough to keep me off the ground—it’s too bad, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than on my back, as long as he’s on top of me.
I look up at him with my best doe-eyes, willing him to take advantage of the poor frightened waitress he’s terrorized over the past two nights. He stares down at me with a desperate look I can’t quite seem to put my finger on. I change tactics.
“Listen,” I say, biting the inside of my lip. Ronan’s thumb slowly starts to brush up and down the backside of my hand. A warm shiver tingles up my spine. “I forgive you for the past two nights,” I tell him. “I’m glad you came into Chelly’s earlier today and apologized, and I’m glad you’re walking me home tonight. My life’s sucked for the past... well, maybe forever. It’s been a long and boring ride for me, filled with way more downs than ups... I was in nursing school once, you know? Back then, I thought I might be able to make something of myself, but I should have known better. My mom died while I was in my first year. She’d been helping me pay the bills and loans, but then, suddenly I had nothing. No support, no safety net, no love. Just nothing. I fell, and I fell hard, and I still haven’t been able to get myself back up to the cliff I fell from. It wasn’t a high cliff, but at least from that perch I could see light on the horizon. These days all I see is darkness. Boring old darkness. I was getting so sick of the daily grind to nowhere... until I met you. I’ve never been so unsure and excited as I am right now. It’s scary, but it’s also exhilarating. So, I guess I just want to say thank you for that.”
As I talk, Ronan’s big hand squeezes around mine until I can barely tell where his begins and mine ends. Dredging up bad old memories has made me look away from him, but when I stop talking, I feel the giant’s free hand gently pinch the bottom of my chin and lead me upwards, back into his steely blue eyes. I don’t get a long look at them, because, before I know it, both our eyes have closed and Ronan is planting his lips against mine.
I sigh in pleasure and give into him completely. I begin to melt into the street below, before Ronan releases my chin and wraps both of his muscular arms around my back for support. I can tell which one is injured, because his strong embrace is slightly lopsided. I try to lean into his good arm as we exchange the warmth of our affection in the cool night air of this frigid city. His lips are so soft yet so powerful; his grip is so strong yet so caring. He leads the way completely now. I let his kisses decide where I go. I’m taken away to a warm place filled with hope and pleasure and lust and—
Before I can finish that thought, a nearby sound of shattering glass interrupts our little moment of bliss.
Ronan immediately pulls away from me, concern drawn on his face. His big burly arms brush down my backside as he takes a step back. Still, he keeps his good hand on my waist, while his other hand reaches into his jacket pocket.
I can only watch him as he scans the area, looking for the source of the noise. I don’t even bother following his gaze. My trust is in him right now. He pulls me close, and, with my cheek against his heaving chest, I finally look out beyond ourselves.
What I spot sends a shiver down my spine.
Three large, unfriendly-looking figures are approaching in the dark. Shards of glass glimmer under a nearby streetlight. The hairs on the back of my neck start to rise and my gut clenches as I realize Ronan’s pushing me behind him.
“I said, get a room!” shouts one of the approaching men. I hadn’t heard anything other than the blood rushing through my ears while Ronan and I kissed, but the way the man’s shouting makes it seem like he thinks we’ve been ignoring him. If I wasn’t so flustered, I might be angry. How dare he interrupt our moment—who is he to tell us what to do? Bastard.
The angry-looking threesome passes under a streetlight and I get my first glimpse of the strangers. Two big, brawny goons flank a tall, slender man. They all have greased back black hair and black leather jackets on. All three are wearing dark turtlenecks and what look like gold chains. The middle one has a bottle in his hand. Their strides are quick and aggressive. I press my cheek against Ronan’s tensed shoulder blades as his hand falls from my waist and reaches for something tucked under the corner of his belt.
“Eh, eh, eh. Easy there, big fella,” I hear a raspy voice call out.
Ronan hesitates, before pulling his hand back out, abandoning whatever he was reaching for in the first place. I peer out from under his arm and freeze in terror when I see why.
The middle man in the aggressively approaching threesome has pulled out a gun, and it’s pointed right at us. Ronan’s hands slowly raise into the air. I stay hidden behind him.
Suddenly, another glass shatters just feet away from us. This time, I can’t help but let out a frightened yelp. I clutch to Ronan’s hard waist and feel his back muscles clench. He’s shaking—but I can’t tell if it’s from fear or anger.
The slim middle-man cackles at my reaction. I peer out again from behind Ronan and see the slimy asshole pounding his goons on the chest. They’re not smiling; both looked primed for a fight.
“You’re a big one, huh?” the skinny greaseball teases. He pokes his head to the left and then to the right, like a lizard gauging its prey, as he tries to see around Ronan. “Move, why don’t ya? I want to get a better look at that little piece behind you.”
“I think you better keep walking,” Ronan growls, and I realize that the tremors I’m feeling in his muscles aren’t from fear: he’s seething mad.
The thin man chortles and waves his pistol into the air like a drunkard, before pointing it straight back in our direction. “I don’t take orders,” he hisses. “I give orders. And I’m ordering you to move.”
“Or what?” Ronan doesn’t sound afraid; he sounds ready to fight.
I quickly glance behind us. The street is completely empty. I’ve walked this path countless times before, and the closest I’ve got to danger are a few catcalls and some aggressive beggars. What’s changed?
Does Ronan really just invite so much trouble? Isn’t this what I’m looking for?
I don’t feel so satisfied as I shiver like a leaf in a hurricane behind the only thing standing between me and a gun-wielding maniac.
“Or what!?” the thin greaseball laughs, sharing his amusement with the bowling balls on either side of him. “Or else you taste lead.”
I flinch back behind Ronan as the men take another round of steps forward and the gun is trained even more steadily in our direction.
Ronan doesn’t budge. “Is that what you hired those two buffoons for? To watch you shoot folks? I’m sure that’s not it, they’re too ugly to be anything but muscle. So, why don’t you get your money’s worth instead? Send them at me; rough me up a little before you take a shot of your own.”
I take a peek at the men before us. The two goons on either side of the slime ball are almost as big as Ronan. They don’t look all too friendly either, though thin-lipped grins have crossed their pointed faces at the suggestion.
“Come on, boss. You never let us have any fun,” one of them mumbles.