Page 80 of Dirty Roxie
I think of Daria with Mack. How her face lights up whenever he’s near. And how his eyes track her no matter where she is in the room.
And Quinn with Reed. The sparkle in her eyes when she talks about him. The way he can’t go without touching her when she’s near.
My parents before they died. With their laughter and affection, the easy hugs and kisses they shared.
I recall my time with Ronan. Every moment we were together, playing out like a montage in my mind. The good, the bad, the pain, the passion. The way my heart filled when he took my hand today and didn’t let it go. How at peace I felt as soon as it happened.
Even now, traveling through a strange country sitting next to a man I thought I’d never see again, during a moment when I’m filled with more questions than answers. I still feel an overwhelming calm and certainty in my answer to the question Ronan asked.
“Yes. I do.” I take his face in my hands and pull him toward me. “I love you.” My eyes dart back and forth between his as he closes the distance between us, sly grin on his face. My lips mirror his as our breaths combine, the barest hint of a touch is intoxicating.
Ronan groans and runs his hand up my body, stopping behind my neck to hold my head in place, bringing us together and deepening our connection. His mouth is punishing and hard, yet soft and compliant. He tastes of mint and spice, all uniquely Ronan and one hundred percent addicting.
I feel conquered and loved, secure and treasured, simply by the touch of his lips. His fingers tangle in my hair, the beautiful babushka pushed to the side, as my own seek purchase against the broad lines of his back. I can’t get enough. Need morphs with desperation to prove my every feeling with my motions. To convey every hope and promise, each insecurity and fear, the culmination of wants and desires.
A mash of lips devouring, teeth nipping, and tongues soothing. A kiss like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. One that seals my fate—whether in California or Moscow—and binds me to Ronan Sinclair forever.
As he pulls away, I whimper softly, never wanting him to part from me again.
“Prelest’ moya,” he murmurs against my lips. “My precious, Roxie. That is all we need. If we have love, believe in love, the rest will take care of itself.”
