Page 41 of Yours

“Don’t I?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied me. His eyes glinted with something dark and dangerous, and I felt the breath hitch in my chest again.

I couldn’t argue with him. I didn’t have the energy to fight the truth of it—not when my cheeks were burning, my pulse racing, and every nerve in my body was screaming at me to leave before I completely unraveled.

But of course, he didn’t let me go.

“You’re a very naughty girl, Kiera,” he said after a moment, his tone soft, but unrelenting.

“Yeah? Well, you’re a—” I stopped myself, glaring at the table as I clenched my fists tighter.

“Go on,” he goaded. “What am I?”

“A pain in the ass,” I muttered.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning back again. “But that sweet little pussy didn’t seem to mind all that much when I buried myself inside you.”

I shot him a glare, but the fire in my chest was flickering dangerously close to something else—something I wasn’t ready to name.

Desperate to change the subject, I blurted, “What about you?”

He arched a brow, clearly amused. “What about me?”

“Do you always get what you want?” I asked, forcing some of my defiance back into my tone. “Or do you just make everyone too afraid to tell you no?”

His lips curved into that maddening smirk again, and he took a slow sip of his whiskey before answering.

“Both,” he said simply.

“You don’t seem like the type to ask nicely,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

“I’m not,” he said smoothly, his dark eyes glinting.

The weight of his gaze pressed against me like a physical thing.

“And if someone’s foolish enough to tell me no…” He let the sentence trail off. “Well, let’s just say I’m not afraid to take what I want.”

“Lucky for you,” I said, forcing a sarcastic twist to my lips, “I’m not allowed to say no.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might get to his feet and deal with me again. But instead, he chuckled softly, the sound low and almost dangerous.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of a promise.

I gulped, my throat tight, and forced myself to look away.

Fortunately for me, the food arrived. The waiter slipped my meal in front of me with a quiet nod and I muttered my thanks.

My steak was cooked to perfection, its seared crust glistening under the soft candlelight, and the sides—creamy potatoes, roasted vegetables—looked almost too good to eat. Almost.

I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I took the first bite. The steak practically melted in my mouth, the rich, smoky flavor sending a jolt of satisfaction straight through me. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring it, and when I opened them, I found Ronan watching me, his eyes glittering with quiet amusement.

“Good?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I swallowed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a smile.

“It’s fine,” I said, though my tone lacked conviction.

His smirk deepened, but he didn’t push. He cut into his steak, his movements unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

The tension between us ebbed slightly as we ate, the silence punctuated only by the clink of silverware and the low sounds of chatter humming around the packed restaurant.

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