RONAN (The Wolf Hotel)

I squeeze through the elevator doors just as they’re closing, forcing them to open again.

Kyle is standing to the left, dressed in a sharp-looking dove-gray suit, obviously just coming home from work. He smiles down at me. “Looks like we’re taking turns.”

“Huh?” I’m breathing raggedly from my jog, and drenched in sweat. So stupid of me to go out. I don’t enjoy jogging in the heat of the day. That’s why I always go in the mornings, when it’s cooler and quiet. Peaceful.

But then I had to go and sleep with Ronan.

Yesterday, I skipped my run altogether, avoiding him. Today, I left at 6:00 a.m. and didn’t come home until I knew they would have left for work. But that hour-long run wasn’t enough, apparently, because after a full day of struggling to focus on work, I came home, threw on my workout clothes, and took off, pushing myself to run another ten miles.

“I was coming home from the gym yesterday. You’re coming home from the gym today,” Kyle explains with a dimpled smile. Now that he’s freshly showered and dressed, I can see that he’s quite handsome.

“Oh. Yeah.” My thighs are on fire.

“Fourth floor, right?” He pushes the button without waiting for my answer. I notice that the second floor is already selected. He got off on my floor yesterday. Maybe he’s going to a friend’s place, or a girlfriend’s place. “So, Ryan… are you studying for exams?”

“I am. Can’t wait until it’s over.”

The doors open on the second floor and he steps out, but pauses. “I’m in 255, if you’re ever looking for someone to help you study. I’m an economics analyst, so it’s kinda my thing.”

“Oh, thanks. Yeah, maybe. I’ll let you know.”

He releases the door and steps back.

Sweat is still dripping down my cheeks as I step through the door. I’m praying that he’s not home.

No such luck.

“Two runs in one day, sis?” Connor says.

I duck my head, heading for the bathroom, intent on avoiding them until after I’ve showered and my face isn’t so red.

“You have some pent-up frustration you’re trying to burn?” There’s no missing the amusement in Connor’s voice.

I stumble a step. “What is that supposed to mean?” Oh, my God. Did Ronan tell him after all?

“Nothing. Relax. Jeez. You need anything at the store?”

“Nope. Thanks.” I lock the bathroom door behind me and let my head fall back against it with a thud, thankful that I managed to avoid him again. Just one more week until he’s gone to Alaska and I don’t have to see that dark smile or those piercing eyes, or watch those muscles move with that sexy swagger, or wonder who he might bring home. I inhale deeply.

It smells like Ronan in here right now—like his minty shampoo and his soap. He must have had a shower while I was running.

One more week and I won’t have to smell him. God. I want him again. That’s the real problem here. I let him screw me and now I want it again. He said only one night, and I want another night, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to him again. He knows I want it, too, the bastard.

One more week.

Just one more week.

Starting the shower, I peel my clothes off and climb in, reveling in the hot water until it begins to turn cold.

It’s quiet when I emerge, towel wrapped tightly around my body, my sweat-drenched clothes in my fist. They’ve left for the store.

Good.

The tension eases from my shoulders as I head for my room. I’ll get dressed, grab a bite to eat, then go to the library to study. By the time I come home, they’ll be gone out for the night.

I step into my room to find Ronan stretched out on my bed.

It takes me a moment to gain my composure, to smooth my expression to one of disregard. I toss my dirty clothes into my hamper. “I thought you were going to the store?”

His gaze rolls slowly over me. “I never said I was going anywhere.”

My towel doesn’t feel secure enough, as if merely a look from him could pull it down. I resist the urge to fumble with it. “What do you want?”

He swings his legs off the edge of the bed and pulls himself up to sit. “Seems I’m missing something important from my room.”

I turn my back to him and begin rifling through my dresser for clothes. I’m assuming he’s talking about his condoms, which are still under his bed. “Oh yeah? When did you notice it missing?”

My bed creaks as he stands. “Last night.” Suddenly Ronan’s directly behind me, his strong frame looming. “When I was going to come in here to see you.”

My stomach clenches with nerves. He was going to come here last night? That means he would have been going for a condom.

That means he wanted sex again.

I struggle to keep my voice indifferent. I don’t want him to know how he affects me. “You should keep better track of your important things.”

His deep chuckle vibrates along my spine. I watch with shock as, reaching around me, Ronan collects the framed picture of my mom and me, the three books, and the jewelry box that decorate the top of my chest of drawers, and tosses them to my bed.

“Hey! What are you—” My words drop with a yelp as he grabs my hips, spins me around, and hoists me up to sit atop it. He’s so damn strong.

Without any preamble, he tugs at my towel until it falls open, laying me bare. Pushing my thighs apart, he leans forward.

I watch, my jaw hanging open in shock, as Ronan’s mouth settles between my legs.

“Have you ever heard of foreplay?” I finally manage in a whisper.

“This is foreplay.”

Whatever resistance I might have put up dissolves in a puddle as his tongue slides over my center.

“Why’d you take my condoms, Ryan?”

Because I didn’t want you sleeping with anyone else while you’re here?

I don’t answer, instead reaching down to grip the back of his head, his short, near-black hair soft against my fingertips.

He smiles against me, his hands gripping my thighs tighter, pulling me forward until part of me is afraid I might fall right off the dresser. Ronan would never allow that, though. I don’t know him, but I somehow know that.

“You are sweet, after all. Who knew.” He doesn’t relent, doesn’t hint at stopping. Not like David, who only occasionally did this for me, and only for long enough to mark off an invisible checkmark in the decent boyfriend column.

“Do you like doing that?”

He pauses long enough to meet my gaze. “Do I like doing what?”

“That.”

“Eating you out?”

Oh my God. My stomach tenses. “Yeah.”

“I love it.” His mouth seals over me again. My inhibitions quickly fade and that pressure begins to build deep inside me. I relax and open up to him, stroking the back of his head.

When I finally come, it’s with Ronan’s tongue deep inside me, bucking against his face, crying out with complete abandon.

He stands. His lips graze over my nipple, teasing it with his breath. “How was that for foreplay?”

“Fine,” I manage. Dear God, he should teach the art of going down on a woman.

“Where is my box of condoms, Ryan?”

“Under your bed,” I answer through pants, my eyes closed.

He pulls me down with ease, setting me on the bed, where I sprawl out, boneless. I’m vaguely aware of him leaving the room, only to return thirty seconds later, his shirt missing and a foil packet in his hand, his track pants hanging low on his hips, the V of his pelvis leading down to the hard ridge of his erection.

I sigh with pathetic need.

He pushes his waistband down to his thighs and takes his length in his palm. With languid strokes, he rubs himself in front of me. “You thought I was going to bring someone home last night, didn’t you? That’s why you hid these?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He opens his mouth, but falters. “I didn’t feel like it.” I get the impression he was going to say something different.

He tears the foil wrapper with his teeth and rolls the condom onto himself with one hand, his gaze never leaving mine.

For the briefest of seconds, I consider closing my legs, denying him. But I quickly dismiss that crazy thought, because the truth is I’m aching to feel Ronan inside me again. I enjoyed it. I enjoy the idea of him wanting me.

He flips me over and pulls me to my knees with no warning, smoothing his palms over my backside. “Damn, this ass…,” he murmurs. The mattress sinks under his weight as he kneels behind me.

“What about it?” I fail to keep the apprehension from my voice. I’ve always been self-conscious about my round hips, emphasized by my slender waist. In fact, this is my least favorite position because of it. I never let David take me like this.

“It’s fucking beautiful.”

“Really?”

He drags his thumb along my crack, making me tense. “I could stare at it all day.” He grips each side tight, and I feel his tip begin to prod my opening, still swollen and sensitive.

And so wet.

I close my eyes as he pushes into me, overwhelmed by his size from this angle. I take him in quickly enough though. And sigh with an unexpected surge of relief at the fullness when he’s buried.

His phone chirps. “Shit… we only have a few minutes. You took too long in the shower.” He pushes my chest against the mattress and hikes my ass up higher in the air.

“What do you mean? Is Connor on his way—” My words are cut off with a yelp as he begins thrusting into me at that same relentless pace as the other night, just before he came.

I don’t fight the gasps and moans that slip from my mouth this time, fisting the covers, his skin slapping against mine, a repetitive and tawdry sound. It’s almost unbearable, the way he pounds into me, my mind torn between the odd pleasurable pain he’s delivering and worry that my brother’s going to walk in. It’s distracting enough that my orgasm catches me by surprise, just as Ronan’s pulsing deep inside me with his own.

My muscles barely have time to stop constricting around him when he abruptly pulls out. He leaves, pulling my bedroom door shut behind him.

Disappointment doesn’t even have time to settle in before I hear Connor hollering at the door for Ronan to give him a hand unloading the car.

Oh, my God. That was so close. That was probably Connor texting him.

I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

What the hell are we doing?

And why am I enjoying this so much?