RONAN (The Wolf Hotel)
RONAN: Chapter 7

I’m trying not to shake and probably failing miserably.

I don’t want Ronan to know how nervous I am right now. Heck, I’m always nervous around him. He’s one of those intimidating guys—tall, dark, and ominous looking, with his piercing green eyes and his wicked smile and that swagger.

But right now, standing in front of him, naked, with that burning gaze searing my body, his face still full of shock, I feel like my legs are ready to give out. It’s a body I work hard to keep lean and hard and healthy, but will never win with when pitted against the long legs and trim torsos and slender hips of these Miami beach bodies.

The kind of bodies Ronan likes, if the naked girl who fell into my bed last Friday is any indication.

Ronan groans, his hands settling on his forehead. “Ryan, I can’t….”

I can’t believe this. I’m standing naked in front of Ronan—a guy who fucked around with three different women in one night last weekend—and he’s turning me down. Have I totally misread him and all his looks and words?

With my face on fire, I dive for my T-shirt and make to run from his room.

He can move awfully fast though, for a guy half-awake and sprawled out in bed.

I make it all the way to the door before his giant, callused hand slams against it, stopping me from escape. “I didn’t say that I didn’t want to.”

“It sure sounds like it.” I despise the sound of my voice, brimming with rejection.

He steps in close behind me, pinning my chest to the cool door, his body heat searing my skin. “Does it feel like it?” He presses his hard length into my back.

I can’t help the gasp. I got a good look at his dick as it swelled under my gaze when he was sprawled out on the bed. I’ve only been with three other guys and none of them compare to Ronan’s size.

It’s not just his dick, either. It’s all of him—all his solid muscles and ridges, his height, the way his forearms naturally tense as he moves.

I steel my nerve. “Well then, what’s the problem? I thought you said you wanted this.” I may come off as confident in everyday life, but I’ve never been forward when it comes to sex. I’ve never propositioned a guy. The fact that I even came in here tonight is insanity.

Pushing my hair to the side, he leans over and settles his lips on my nape, his tongue grazing me ever so gently, the simple act sending shivers all the way down to my core.

I make to turn, to face him, wanting to see his chiseled body, feel how hard his chest and stomach are beneath my fingertips. I’ve secretly admired that body from the first moment I saw it, even when I was yelling at him about my towel and calling him a Neanderthal.

But strong arms seize my hips, keeping me in place as his bare foot slides in between mine, gently prodding my legs farther apart.

“I’m leaving for Alaska really soon,” he whispers.

“I know. It’s perfect.” It was probably the biggest factor in my decision to come here tonight, after lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, replaying our conversation, my body betraying me with excitement, even as my heart still throbs for David.

Ronan chuckles. The depth of his voice against my spine makes me shudder. I hold my breath as his hands slide from my hips, one traveling upward to cup my breast, the other moving lower to rest along the inside of my thigh, his thumb smoothing over my skin. “Just this once. I can’t give you more than that.” He swallows hard. “This won’t turn into anything. I mean, it can’t. I’m….” His voice drifts.

He’s still in love with his girlfriend.

It takes me a moment to replace my voice. “You think I’m looking for a commitment?” I whisper. “I don’t even like you, remember?” That’s not entirely true. Sure, I was angry that Connor went and rented the third bedroom without even telling me or letting me have a say about the person I’d now have to share a bathroom with. And when I first saw Ronan—all dark and gorgeous six foot something of him, towering over me—I immediately knew my arrogant brother had found a partner in crime for his scandalous lifestyle.

But Ronan also tried to make me feel better about being dumped, and apologized to me when I was being a complete bitch to him that first morning, overreacting over a towel because it was either that or burst out in tears, my emotions out of control.

But, most important, he’s fucking head-to-toe gorgeous and maybe he’s right: I don’t have to like him to enjoy sex with him. At least this way, my heart won’t get tangled with emotion.

And maybe sleeping with Ronan will erase the overwhelming rejection I’m drowning in, the feelings of inadequacy that I’ve woken up with and fallen asleep with since I found out David dumped me for a tall, willowy blonde.

Only a week after I told him I loved him for the first time.

I’d do anything to stop feeling this pain, even if for just a night. As it turns out, anything includes sleeping with my hot pig of a roommate.

I inhale sharply as Ronan’s hand shifts to cup me between my legs, his finger sliding over my clit. I’m wet for him and, with each pass of his finger, growing more so.

“For someone who doesn’t like me, you have a funny way of showing it.” He leans forward until his face fits into the crook of my neck, just far enough that his hot breath skates over my skin. And then he pushes one finger deep inside. “I wondered what you would feel like.”

He did? I close my eyes as my senses go into overdrive. “And?”

He slips a second finger in, stretching me as his thumb draws circles over my clit. “You’re even softer and tighter than I expected.” His mouth closes over my earlobe and he bites down gently. “Definitely no teeth in here.”

I’m struggling to stay on my feet. If he’s this skilled with just his hands and his mouth….

I want to turn around, to touch him. To kiss him. Badly.

Suddenly, I’m off my feet and cradled in his arms, being carried to his bed. With ease and speed I don’t expect, he has me lying on my back, his sinewy body kneeling before me. I watch in a mute state of shock as he briskly pulls a condom out of his bedside drawer, tears the foil package with his teeth, and rolls the condom on, all with smooth precision.

Seizing me by the thighs, he pulls my body to meet his.

And then he’s pushing in.

I gasp at the intrusion as I stretch around him. His muscles strain beautifully with each hip roll, until he’s filling me completely.

He pauses, grins devilishly at me as his gaze slides over my naked body, sprawled out and exposed. “You good?”

“Yes,” I manage. I can’t believe this is happening.

Adjusting his grip on my thighs, he begins thrusting in and out, the bed creaking noisily with each shift, the headboard banging against the wall. It’s as bad as the night he was with that woman he picked up at the club. I try not to think about that right now. I’m nothing like her. Almost as an act of defiance, I press my lips together, intent to not let myself sound like her.

He’s so deep, and he keeps hitting one spot each time he goes in. It’s not entirely comfortable.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” he murmurs, as if he can read my mind, his heated gaze shifting from my face to my breasts, down to where we’re joined.

And he must, because with each stroke against that spot, I feel my body opening up to him, feel the dull ache turn into something entirely pleasurable.

Feel my body reacting.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmurs through ragged breaths.

I am. So wet, my body is offering no resistance to him anymore. It’s almost embarrassing.

He shifts one arm to splay a hand across my pelvis, pressing down slightly as his thumb starts rubbing my clit.

I can’t help the low moan that escapes.

“That’s it, Ryan. I know you’re not shy.” He suddenly changes his tactics, rolling his hips rather than thrusting.

It brings out a second, lower moan from me, unbidden. This view of him—naked and confident and between my legs—might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I can feel the beginnings of an orgasm deep inside the pit of my stomach, the blood flowing fast to my core.

Ronan grips both my thighs again, lifting my hips a little higher, squeezing a little harder as he changes his rhythm again, plunging into me hard and fast. I’ve only ever come during sex once—during a rare night of no inhibitions when my then boyfriend and I smoked a joint and everything was a major turn-on.

I’m dead sober now but the sight of Ronan’s body, straining and glistening, his dark, lustful gaze locked on me, pumping in and out—the very idea that a guy this hot, who could have most any woman he wanted, is going to come because of me….

I don’t care if I sound like that drunk idiot from the other night as I feel the rush of blood hit my nerve endings and my muscles tighten around him. I cry out, bucking against his body where we’re joined.

Ronan’s head falls back, his sharp Adam’s apple jutting out from his strong neck, and he lets out a deep groan as the muscles in his stomach tense. I feel him pulse inside me, his thrusts slowing until they’ve stopped altogether.

Our panting breaths fill the silence in the room.

Now what?

If he were my boyfriend, this is where he would lie down beside me. We’d kiss, I’d nuzzle my nose in his neck, I’d draw patterns along his chest, I’d ask him if he enjoyed that.

But this is Ronan.

My new roommate, my brother’s friend, an Outdoor crew guy, a man whore. A guy I had sex with for the soul purpose of forgetting my ex. A guy who’s still in love with his ex.

A guy who didn’t so much as kiss me before he dove in.

Was the missing kiss by choice or by omission, because I woke him up at 2:00 a.m. for surprise sex? I’ve heard of guys who don’t kiss. Guys who sleep around a lot and make it a habit of not kissing women on the mouth for whatever reason. I’m not going to fool myself into believing Ronan isn’t a guy who sleeps around a lot.

I can’t believe I just had sex with Ronan to get over my ex.

He slides out of me and checks the condom—I assume for holes. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls it off and reaches for a tissue.

I use that opportunity to bolt, grabbing my T-shirt on the way to the door. “Good night.” I duck out without a backward glance, not breathing until I’m behind my closed bedroom door.

Oh, my God.

What have I done?