Easy Virtue (16 page)

“Oh, God …”

“Yeah, baby?” he teases, his voice strained.

I half laugh, half moan. He feels so good moving inside me, like sweet agony and painful pleasure all at once.

I’m so close. So close.

And then there’s nothing but pure ecstasy surrounding me as I come undone. Ronan slams one last time inside me as a cry tears from his chest with the power of his climax. We’re both left trembling and breathless.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more complete than at this moment with his throbbing cock still buried inside me and his hands bruising my skin with their demanding hold.

We bask in the after-sex glow, Ronan’s arms wrapped around me. I trace the outline of the tiger tattooed on his left pectoral. A French quote runs along the back of the animal.

“What does this mean?”

“‘What is essential is invisible to the eye.’ It’s a quote from
The Little Prince
. It was my mom’s favorite book.”

“Oh, I love that. I haven’t read that book yet. I should check it out.”

“You definitely should.”

“So I guess this is the part where we’re supposed to bond by sharing earth-shattering truths about ourselves.”

“Yeah?” He tightens his hold on me and nuzzles my neck. “I thought we
bonded
all right.”

I flick him on his side, making him chuckle. “Not
that
type of bonding, you pervert. I’ll start. I love the smell of wet grass and old books. I’m a die-hard Janeite and I love dogs.” I chuckle, remembering Jalina. “When I was a little girl, my mom found a mutt puppy abandoned in a cardboard box in the empty lot behind our house. She was going to take it to a shelter, but my dad told her to give the puppy to me instead. Anyway, I named her Jalina. My nanny told me that I would dress her in my mom’s clothes and put makeup on her, and the poor dog wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. God, I loved her so much. She was my best friend.”

He kisses my bare shoulder before he grabs a strand of black hair and twirls it in his fingers. “What happened to Jalina, and what’s a Janeite?”

“Old age,” I say, feeling the familiar pang in my chest whenever I think of her. It’s been nine years since she passed away and not a day goes by when I don’t miss her. “And a Janeite is basically someone who’s obsessed with anything about and related to Jane Austen. Okay, your turn.”

“Let’s see … the details are muddled because it’s been so long, but one of my favorite memories is of my mom holding her camera and taking pictures of my father while he painted Jackie’s bedroom a light pink. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I think that’s when my love for photography was born.”

“How old were you when your …” I hesitate.

He finishes the question for me. “When my parents passed away? I was seven. They dropped me off at school because it was snowing and they didn’t want me to take the bus since the roads were covered in ice. They never made it back.”

My heart breaks for the little boy that he was. “I’m so sorry, Ronan.”

“It’s okay, it’s been a very long time. I just hate the fact that I have to look at their pictures to remember their faces. It’s not fair, you know? They were so full of life, so fucking beautiful, and now all that’s left of them are frozen and lifeless images on paper. By staring at those pictures, you would never know that my mom had the sweetest laugh and always smelled like cookies. And you would never know that my father loved to take Mom and Jackie in his arms and twirl them around the living room. Anyway,” he smiles, a trace of sadness lingering in his gaze, “I have one more. Ready?” He tugs the strand of my hair wrapped around his finger, pulling me closer to him, and biting my lower lip.

I nod, lost in his eyes, in him.

“I met a girl and I’m crazy about her.”

“Crazy, huh?” Fighting a smile from escaping, I lean over and rest my cheek on his chest as the beat of his heart fills my ears with music. “I hope she’s nice.”

He squeezes my ass with his hand. “She’s all right. Can’t keep her hands off of me though. But what can I say? Chicks dig me.”

I push my body slightly away from his and smack him on his flat stomach. “Asshole. Chicks dig—”

Ronan laughs before silencing me with a kiss. When we pull apart, the air charged with electricity, we stare at each other without saying a word. We let the comfortable silence fill the space between his walls as we soak up the sensation of being in the arms of one another. Nothing has ever felt this right before.

“For what it’s worth, I think your parents would be very proud of the man you’ve become, Ronan, and I mean it,” I say hoarsely. “And now you can stop looking at me like that.”

“Why?”

He looks so handsome with his lips all swollen because of my kisses and his hair all wild because of my hands.

“Why what?”

Letting go of me, Ronan rests the side of his body on his elbow and cradles his cheek in the palm of his hand. With his free one, he caresses the side of my face tenderly. “Why do you want me to stop?”

“Because.” I feel myself blushing and I hate it. “You’re looking at me funny.”

And he is. His eyes are … I can’t explain it. It makes my stomach flutter. It makes me yearn for things that I don’t want, things I don’t have the luxury to feel.

“And how is that?”

I’m quiet for a moment.

“I can’t really say … I don’t know.”

He smiles, and there’s so much tenderness behind it that it shatters me. “You don’t know or you can’t say?”

“Oh my God … just stop!”

I hide my face in the pillow and groan. When I hear him laugh at my reaction, I turn to look at him, murder written in my eyes. How dare he? “Are you laughing at me?”

Humor leaves his face, a serious, thoughtful expression now in its place. “I’m looking at you because, right now, that’s all I want to do.”

And that, ladies and gents, is what I call a knockout.

If I were a cartoon, I’d be lying on the floor with hearts and cupids twirling around my head. But there’s a voice inside my head warning me that this thing between Ronan and me is becoming very dangerous. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone who makes me
feel
—someone who could easily make me fall madly in love with him.

I know I should be afraid of what he makes me feel, of how much he makes me want to change, to be a better person, even try to become whatever he needs me to be. I should be afraid because he makes me want to let go of my fears, my hang-ups. He makes me want to give my whole self to him just as he has given himself to me. I hunger for the feeling I get when I’m with him because it almost fools me into believing I am the Blaire that he wants.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Ronan must see the fear reflected in my eyes.

“Nothing … I’m just happy.
You
make me very happy,” I lie, kissing him under the chin.

He’s about to speak, but I stop him, placing my fingers on his mouth. “Shhh … don’t say another word.” I push myself closer to him, grab his hardness in my hand and stroke it, feeling the veins of his cock throb in my palm. “Fuck me, Ronan. I need you again.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I laugh. “How obliging of you.”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, after all,” the ass says, a devilish grin on his face as he reaches for a foil package.

Ronan kneels in front of me, pumping his dick in his hand as I spread my legs open and let him watch me begin to touch myself. I push my fingers shallowly into me and coat them with my desire for him and what’s to come.

“Christ. You’re beautiful.”

He leans over me, his mouth finding mine. Placing one hand on the bedframe for support, the other seeks my swollen warmth, pulsing with fire for him …

Just a few more dates.

Just a few more days of paradise.

And then this will all be over. I have to end it.

There won’t be any real harm done as long as I don’t let him get any closer to me than he already has. He’ll forget about me and move on. As they all have. Like they always do.

I just …

I just wish the thought didn’t make me feel sick to my stomach.

WORKING IN AN EXTREMELY HIP
eatery in Midtown means that we get a huge influx of powerful men around lunch and dinnertime. Politicians, executives, lawyers, and businessmen all come here to conduct business (more like trying to assert who has the bigger cock when they aren’t stroking each other’s egos) while eating an overpriced piece of meat. It’s one of the reasons why I loved my job so much. This place is what you’d call the perfect hunting grounds for someone like me. It’s how I met Walker … and a few others.

And today, for the first time in a very long time, I wish I weren’t here. That thrill that I used to get when men looked my way? Gone. That nervous energy that always had me on the move and never satisfied? Finito. There’s no noise filling my head and disrupting my peace of mind. I’m a floating cloud on a blue morning sky. I’m a loose leaf twirling in the air, dancing with the breeze as my partner. I feel carefree. And Ronan has done that to me.

I smile at a couple as I tell them that their table is ready, but the smile isn’t for them; it’s for Ronan and Ronan alone. My body might be here, but my mind is with him back at his small apartment, making love on a warm bed. I might be standing here dressed in Prada from head to toe, but I’d prefer to be wearing nothing but the scent of Ronan on me. Ronan is my new favorite brand.

“Blaire? Hello! Are you there?” Elly says, bringing me out of my reverie.

“Oh hey, Elly. How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see that your mind is somewhere else, or with
someone
else.”

I sigh, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles away from my black pencil skirt. “Sorry. Yeah, I was thinking of Ronan.”

She looks at me as though I had two heads.

“Brooklyn boy?” I remind her.

Elly smiles as she grabs my pen and twirls it in between her fingers. “I
knew
it. You’ve been acting funny this past month. And if you’re telling me his name, things must be getting serious.”

“They aren’t. We’re just having fun, and what do you mean
funny
?”

She shrugs. “You really can’t see it, huh? And I don’t know, you’re always smiling now. And by the way you’re glowing, I can definitely tell that you, my friend, got laid last night.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “You’re wrong. Well, partially wrong.” I glance at her sideways. “I got laid
last night
and
this morning.”

“You loose woman,” she teases.

I blow her a kiss playfully. “And proud to be one.”

We laugh quietly, making sure we don’t draw too much attention to us. “Elly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I really, really, really like him. It’s scary how happy he makes me.” I look down at my nails, noticing that my usually pristine manicure is chipping away. “But I’m not good enough for him. He’s everything that I’m not. He’s the kind of guy a nice girl should date, not one as fucked up as me.”

“There’re a few risks worth taking in this life,” she says, grabbing my hand. “And love? Love is one of them, even if you don’t know how it will end. Quit your ice queen act, drop your resting bitch face, and let things happen. You might be surprised at how they turn out. And, FYI,
everyone
is fucked up. Some people are just better at hiding it than others.”