Page 34 of Yours

A series of black-and-white photographs lined the walls, each one capturing rugged landscapes that I guessed were Irish—rolling hills, craggy cliffs, and misty coastlines that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon.

At the end of the hallway, I pushed open a door and stepped into the master bedroom. My breath caught as I took it in.

The room was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering city skyline like a living painting. Heavy curtains in a deep emerald green were drawn back, their color complementing the soft tones of the room. The centerpiece was a king-sized bed, its frame sleek and modern, dressed in crisp white linens and a thick, plush duvet. A collection of textured pillows in varying shades of gold and green added a touch of warmth.

A fireplace sat against one wall. Above it, a large painting of a stormy Irish coast hung, the dark waves crashing against jagged rocks in a way that felt both wild and serene. A seating area was tucked into one corner, with two leather armchairs flanking a low glass coffee table.

But it was the door to the en suite bathroom that caught my attention.

I stepped inside and felt a rush of envy I didn’t want to admit.

The bathroom was a masterpiece of modern design, all marble and glass with accents of polished chrome. A massive shower dominated one wall, its glass enclosure revealing multiple rainfall showerheads, body jets, and even a built-in bench. The floor was heated, the subtle warmth seeping into my bare feet as I padded across the space.

A deep soaking tub sat beneath a window, its sleek curves framed by a tray holding a neatly folded towel, a small jar of bath salts, and a single white candle. Double vanities stretched along one wall, their marble countertops pristine and gleaming under the soft glow of recessed lighting.

I caught my reflection in the mirror and cringed. My face was flushed, my hair a wild mess, and my eyes still red from earlier.

I looked… undone.

I turned around to see my ass was still bright red. Not only that, but there were three rectangular welts marking my bare cheeks.

From his belt…

With a sigh, I stepped into the shower and turned the handle, the water cascading down from the overhead rainfall fixture in a warm, soothing stream. The heat wrapped around me, washingaway the lingering tension in my muscles as I leaned against the glass, closing my eyes.

The water rushed over my skin, easing the sting that still radiated faintly from my backside. I let out a shaky breath, the sound swallowed by the steady hum of the water. For the first time that night, I felt like I could finally breathe.

But even as I stood there, letting the water rinse away the remnants of the evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way he’d looked at me, the way his hands had felt, the way his presence filled every corner of the room.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung stubbornly, as persistent as the steam rising around me.

“Get it together, Kiera,” I muttered under my breath, reaching for the sleek bottle of body wash.

But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the soothing warmth of the shower, the sound of the water, or the overwhelming luxury of my surroundings, one thought kept echoing in my mind:

I wasn’t sure what scared me more—how much I hated him, or how much Ididn’t.

The warm water cascaded over my body as I lathered soap on my skin. The subtle, woodsy scent of the body wash filled the air, and I took a deep breath, trying to let it calm the storm still swirling inside me.

I worked slowly, my hands trembling slightly as I scrubbed away the tension lingering in my shoulders, my neck, my cum-coated thighs—every inch of me still burning with the memory of Ronan’s touch, his words, his unrelenting presence.

With a frustrated groan, I turned toward the glass, letting the water rinse the soap from my skin. My mind was a tangled mess of anger, humiliation, and something darker.

Unwanted desire.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in one of the soft, oversized towels hanging nearby. The heated floor warmed my bare feet as I padded over to the sink. I opened the drawers until I found a brush and a hair dryer. I dried my hair, brushed it, and took a deep breath before I strode back into the bedroom, the cool air swirling against my damp skin.

Spread out on the bed was a dress—a stunning, floor-length gown in a rich forest green that shimmered faintly in the soft light. The fabric was luxurious, the kind of thing you’d see on a runway or a red carpet, with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that seemed designed to make anyone wearing it feel like royalty.

Beside it sat a pair of sleek black kitten heels, simple yet elegant, their pointed toes catching the light.

And then there was the other item.

I froze, my cheeks flaming as I picked up the thin scrap of fabric lying atop the dress.

They were panties, technically, but calling them that felt generous. The lace was delicate, nearly see-through, and so minimal it seemed to exist solely for decoration rather than function. The black material felt weightless in my hands, the intricate floral design leaving very little to the imagination.

“What the hell,” I grumbled under my breath, my heart racing as I held the racy garment between my fingers.

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