Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
For a second, he loses himself in the kiss, groaning into my mouth. He’s hard as hell beneath me, and I grind down on top of him. And that’s when he rears back and glances around the room. Everybody is watching us. I don’t care. But Ronan does. His cheeks are flushed and he’s embarrassed by my very public display of drunken affection.
I knew it was a recipe for disaster, but I wanted to push him. I wanted to make him uncomfortable and provoke a reaction. Maybe Emily was right. Maybe I won’t stop until I self-destruct. He grabs my wrists roughly in his grasp and pulls my hands away from him.
“I don’t like you like this,” he says.
“Like what?” I challenge him.
“Like a whore,” he clips out.
I yank my hand back and slap him. It’s an instinctive reaction. One that only fuels my anger and makes him stare at me with that lost puppy look.
“Don’t you look at me like that!” I scream. “Don’t you look at me like I hurt you when you hurt me.”
I want to slap him again, but Conor is yanking me away. Ronan’s just staring at me in shock, unmoving as he presses his hand to his cheek.
“You’re all fucking pigs!” I scream to the room. “Every last one of you! I hate you all!”
Lachlan appears in the doorway, and I know I’ve fucked up. He glares in my direction and makes a gesture. Rory and Conor drag me down the hall to his office and drop me into one of the leather chairs opposite his desk.
I curl my knees up and release a sob, and all three of them look to each other in confusion. Lachlan tells them to get out, and they do. And then it’s just the two of us.
“Sasha, what the bleeding hell are you doing?” he asks. “You hit Ronan?”
I press my forehead into my knees and cry. Lachlan doesn’t pressure me to talk, he just waits for me to get my shit together.
“It’s not an excuse,” I tell him between sobs. “But my mother died this morning. I just wanted…”
I look up at him, and his face is kind. And filled with understanding. And for some reason it only makes me cry harder.
“I just wanted to…”
“I know, Sasha,” he says softly. “I know what you wanted. But you can’t ever hit Ronan like that, do ye understand?”
I nod, because I know the code these guys live by, and I’m sure that’s what he’s talking about. I could be killed for a lot less than what I did tonight.
Lachlan helps me over to the sofa and grabs a jacket off the door and covers me over with it. He pauses to look down at me, and there’s a forlorn expression on his face.
“He can handle it from anyone else, Sasha. But never you.”
More tears come at the sound of disappointment in his voice, and it only makes me feel worse. But then he’s on his phone, whispering into the speaker while I close my eyes. It isn’t long before I drift off into unconsciousness.
When I wake again, Mack is beside me, stroking my hair and smiling down at me.
“Why are you smiling?” I croak.
“Because,” she says. “You did me proud tonight, Sash. I mean, I can’t be the only crazy one around this place.”
I laugh, and it feels good. But then the tears come soon after again.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I swipe at the hot mess that is my face.
“Don’t be sorry, doll,” she insists. “There’s nothing a good bout of ugly crying can’t fix.”
“I’m going to have to take your word for it,” I reply.
“C’mon,” she says. “Rory and I are going to take you home.”
“Okay.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sasha
I’m sitting up on the rooftop, shivering in the cold as I stare up at the sky. When a shadow passes over me, I don’t have to look to know it’s him. The shame inside of me won’t allow me to, so instead, I continue to stare at the stars, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
He doesn’t.
“How did you know I was up here?” I ask through a scratchy voice.
He still doesn’t answer, and when I finally get the courage to look at him, he’s uncomfortable with my question. I’ve often wondered if Ronan watches me. So many times, I could have sworn I felt eyes on me when nobody was there. But if he does watch me, he doesn’t want me to know it.
He surprises me by bending down and lifting my limp body into his arms. My head lolls against his strong chest and I close my eyes and let his warmth envelop me as he carries me back down the stairs and into my apartment. When I open them again, he’s pulling back the covers and laying me into bed. I’m so scared he’s going to leave me again, leave me alone to let my grief swallow me whole.