Beauty and the Baller

When the song ends, there’s a silence as we face each other.

The air thickens.

I brought her here, but she can walk out that door.

With that thought, I twine our fingers together and dip my face into her neck and inhale deeply, deciding this spot is my second-favorite part of a woman. I rest my hands on her clavicle with ownership, my thumb brushing against the goose bumps on her skin.

“It’s game time. Are you staying, Princess?”

“Yes.” Her gaze is steady and sure.

It’s all I need as I try to remove her costume, but my fingers don’t know where all the snaps and buttons are, and she does it for me, quickly, tossing her top to the floor, then her bikini bottoms, revealing a white lace thong. Sitting on the bed, she loosens her green boots, tugging at the laces. She undoes her hair, the curls from the braid spilling around her shoulders. My mouth dries as she stands unabashedly in front of me. There’s no shyness. No pretention. She’s lush and decadent, her tits heavy, her nipples a rosy red. The curve of her waist gives way to full hips and long legs. Her toes are painted a shimmery gold—

My thoughts halt as she jerks the duvet and blankets to the floor, leaving the sheet and pillows on the bed.

My adrenaline spikes. We’re doing this. I’m doing this.

“Come to me,” I demand softly.

She walks over and strips me of my jacket, then tosses it on a chair. She unknots my tie while I tear at the buttons on my shirt. They fly across the room. My pants are next, both of us fighting for the zipper as our breaths mingle. I shove down my underwear, and she takes my length in her hands. A long guttural sound comes from my chest as our bodies fall to the bed.

I shove down the pain in my knee and cage her in underneath me. She looks fragile and vulnerable, and my blood heats, the alpha in me rearing up to protect her. I capture her sapphire eyes, and something there is eerily familiar. Shadows of pain.

I nudge my nose against hers softly, then give her tender kisses as our scents mingle, my whiskey with her sweetness. I tell her she’s perfect, that she’s safe with me, that she’s mine. “And I’m going to eat you up,” I purr.

“Ronan . . .” She runs her hands through my hair, pulling on the ends and dragging me down for a wet, openmouthed kiss that turns frantic. My hand cups one breast as I suck the other nipple into my mouth. I move between the two, my five-o’clock shadow brushing over her soft skin. She tastes like . . . I don’t know . . . joy.

I kiss down her body, my hands following. I touch the curve of her waist, her inner thigh—then I’m at her center. I lick the nirvana there, my hands clenching on top of her thighs as I feast.

Moaning, she tugs on my hair, and I rise up.

An unexpected flicker of disconnect hits, almost choking the desire, as the chain around my neck, the one with Whitney’s engagement ring on it, swings between us, glittering. I shove the ring to my back as guilt washes over me.

A dark road flashes in my head, the scratching swipe of windshield wipers, hail pinging, wind battering the car. I should have paid more attention to the storm and slowed down, taken a different road, insisted she put her seat belt on—fuck, how did I miss that? She hated wearing it, the one rule she refused to follow, and I wasn’t paying attention; then a bolt of lightning hit the bridge—my breath shudders. No.

I don’t want to think about that.

Not here. Not now.

I kick back the ache of those memories; I try, even as the condom gets rolled on. I slide inside her, all the way home, a primal roar coming deep from my chest. I stare down at the beauty in my bed, and finally, she’s the only thing I see in my head.

We become a whirlwind of carnal need, straining to crawl into each other. We’re wild, grasping, finding new positions, new places to touch. I’m voracious; she’s ravenous. I grunt with every thrust, my eyes eating her up as the headboard clatters against the wall.

“Ronan . . .” Her head thrashes back and forth on the pillow.

“I’m there, Princess . . .”

My fingers circle her nub, and she explodes brilliantly, magnificently, her body undulating in sinuous waves.

My cock thickens, eager to follow, ecstasy a heartbeat away.

“Whitney,” I call out as I come.

My body trembles as I rest on top of her before rolling off and falling to my back. I shove my damp hair off my face and suck in gulps of air. That was incredible. My hand reaches over the space between us and toys with her long blonde hair, carding it through my fingers. She’s already flipped over, facing the other direction, the sheet around her shoulders.