Page 28 of Tasting Sin

“Fuck,” Ronan hissed when he felt it. His leg jerked, and his hand moved to his waistband, producing a gun I had no idea was there. I put both of my hands on his arm when he aimed it, scanning the room.

“It’s just Spice!” I said, squatting down and scooping the surprised orange tabby into my arms. I rubbed my nose against his fur, giggling when he started to purr. Ronan lifted a single brow, slowly returning his gun to his hidden holster. “Spice, this is Ronan.”

“Nice to meet you, uh, Spice,” Ronan muttered. Judging by the way he pursed his lips, he felt silly saying it. Then he smirked, and butterflies rushed from my stomach to my throat. “So that really does make you Sugar?”

I shook my head but shrugged anyways. “Maybe it does.” I giggled when Spice started to wiggle free from my arms. I let him jump down and watched him scurry out of the bedroom into the kitchen. Ronan watched him, moving his leg out of the way like he wanted to make sure the cat didn’t touch him. Then he looked at me, giving me a slow once over before he turned to follow Spice.

“Then let’s go, Sugar.” He walked out of the room, and I giggled.

“Does that mean you’ve decided I’m safe now?” I took larger steps to catch up to him, slipping around him and walking into the kitchen first.

Ronan nodded, but he still surveyed the room. “For now.” He sounded serious, and my stomach sank, but when he smiled, it flipped. I took a larger step when he reached forward like he might grab me, and I felt the brush of air from his hand when I slipped to the side.

“Night cap?” I asked. I reached for an unopened bottle of wine on the counter, holding it up as if to further explain the offer.

He shrugged, looking amused. “Sure, why not?” I watched him get settled on one of the barstools, forgetting I should’ve been looking for the corkscrew in the same place it always was.

When he slid his suit jacket off his shoulders, folding it in half once and setting it on the empty stool next to him, I stared. My lips tingled, thinking about the way he’d kissed me at the bakery, and I could still feel his fingers against my skin. Ronan cleared his throat, nodding at the bottle in my hand. “Are you pouring it?”

“What?” I looked at him. He lifted his brows and looked pointedly at the bottle, smirking when I snapped out of my daze. “Oh, yes. The wine.”

“I expected your apartment to be more… pink.” Ronan laughed. The more he looked around the room, the more self-conscious I felt about the small one-bedroom apartment I rented.

I scanned the white walls mostly covered with canvas prints and posters for movies I’d only seen once. I shrugged. I opened the drawer in front of me, giggling when I pulled out the bright pink corkscrew. The pop when I pulled the cork from the bottle broke the heavy silence that had filled the kitchen, and I breathed a shaky sigh of anticipation.

“Cheers,” I said, passing him a glass.

Ronan took it, tapping the glass to mine before swirling the liquid. “Cheers, Sugar.” He winked, bringing the wineglass to his lips. I followed the path of his tongue along the rim, and when I saw the picture of Dickie that hung on the wall, my mouth dried out. What am I doing?

“This is kind of weird,” I admitted, swallowing a laugh. When Spice hopped up onto the counter, Ronan jumped slightly. I smiled, running my hand down his back and over his tail.

“What is?” Ronan took another drink of his wine. Was he serious? I waved vaguely around the room, as if it should’ve been obvious.

“You’re sitting in my kitchen,” I explained. Spice bumped his head against Ronan’s hand, and a small smile tugged at his lips while he lifted his hand to scratch the orange cat behind the ears. “And you’re petting my cat.”

Ronan looked at his hand like he didn’t realize he was petting Spice, and he paused. When Spice stopped purring to chirp and bumped his hand, Ronan chuckled and started to pet him again. “I don’t think it’s weird.”

I swallowed the rest of my glass in a large gulp. His eyes widened when I refilled it, and when I finished the glass in three swallows, his eyes only got wider. I stared back at him, debating pouring another glass, but when I focused on the warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach, I decided against it.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally asked, setting the glass down and planting my hands against the counter.

Ronan cocked his head to the side, setting his glass next to mine and reaching for the bottle. “You just did.” He smirked, and I rolled my eyes. He watched me while he poured another glass for each of us, never once looking at the stream to make sure he didn’t spill it.

“Why did you kiss me?” I asked. He sat the bottle down, and the clank against the counter made my stomach lurch.

He stood up, ignoring the refills, and he rounded the counter. “I couldn’t help it,” he said. His voice was lower, huskier, and he took even steps around the counter until he was right next to me. I held my breath.

“Do you want to do it again?” I let the fog from the wine remove the last of my filter.

Ronan lifted a brow. “Do you want me to do it again?”

“Kinda,” I whispered.

“You have to say more than kinda.” Ronan’s voice was low, and he leaned toward me. I could smell the sweet wine on his breath. I wanted to taste it. I wanted his breath to replace my own.

“Yes.” My voice crawled from my throat and clung to my tongue, and I looked away from the picture on the wall. What would Dickie think?

Ronan lowered his head until his lips barely brushed mine. “Yes what?”

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