Ronan's world narrowed to the feeling of Tessa's lips on his, the taste of her breath, the nervous tension crackling between them. When she finally broke the kiss, she didn't pull away—her fingers tightened in his coat, anchoring herself. She was trembling, not from fear, but from something rawer, something that set both their nerves alight.
He barely heard her whisper, "Don't make me wait, Ronan."
He let out a slow, shaky breath, cupping her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw. "Not a chance," he said, voice thick.
The bedroom door was barely closed before Tessa was tugging him forward, her face flushed, eyes dark. Lamplight spilled across the room—a sanctuary of warmth and privacy, battered wood floors, a tangle of quilts on the bed. For a heartbeat, neither moved, taking each other in. The air was charged, feverish.
Ronan's hand found the clasp of her cloak, undoing it with a gentle touch that belied the urgency in his chest. The fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She reached for the buttons of his shirt, nimble fingers working through the fabric, her knuckles grazing his chest with every flick.
She looked up at him, lips parted, her eyes vulnerable and hungry all at once. "You're sure?"
His answer was a low, quiet growl. "I've wanted you since the first damned night in this place."
Tessa's smile was shaky, but it blossomed into something bright and wicked as she leaned in, pressing her mouth to his jaw, down the line of his neck. He groaned, tilting his head to give her access, hands gliding over the curve of her back, memorizing the feel of her under his palms.
One by one, she shed her clothes, slow at first—then, when her nerves gave way to want, faster. Her shirt slipped over her head, mussing her dark hair. Her trousers slid down, baring long, sculpted legs, the faintest lines of old scars against pale skin. She stood before him in a simple camisole and thin undergarments, biting her lip, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
Ronan couldn't take his eyes off her. "Beautiful," he rasped, voice hoarse with want.
He reached for her, hands steady now as he slipped the straps of her camisole from her shoulders. The fabric fell away, exposing her breasts, soft and perfect, nipples already taut. She sucked in a breath but didn't look away, holding his gaze as if daring him to look, daring him to see all of her.
He obliged, letting his eyes roam, drinking in every detail. He brushed his thumb gently across her nipple, feeling it stiffen at his touch, and she let out a shaky, needy moan that went straight to his cock.
She fumbled with his belt, hands trembling for all her bravado, and he let her, watching the concentration in her eyes as she undid the buckle and pushed his trousers down over his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and already hard, and for a moment, Tessa just stared, her breath coming faster.
"You're… bigger than I thought," she muttered, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with anticipation and a flicker of nerves.
He grinned, crooked and a little wild, leaning in to kiss her again, deeper this time, tongues tangling, hands roaming everywhere. She whimpered into his mouth, pressing herself against him, her bare skin a sweet torment against his.
He picked her up, hands under her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, gasping at the strength in his grip. He carried her to the bed, laying her down with a gentleness that made her shiver. She reached up, tugged him down with her, her lips finding his neck, his jaw, the line of his collarbone.
His mouth was everywhere—kissing, biting, sucking down the delicate slope of her throat, over her collarbone, down to her breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, and she arched into him, fingers tangling in his hair.
"Ronan—" her voice was breathless, pleading. "More."
He slid his hand down her stomach, over the curve of her hip, slipping under the thin fabric of her underwear. She was wet—soaked and hot, her folds slick and ready. He slid his fingers through her, teasing her clit with slow, torturous circles, making her gasp and writhe beneath him.
"Oh gods, Ronan—" she whimpered, hips lifting off the bed.
He watched her face, every shudder, every moan. He slid one finger inside her, then two, stretching her gently, feeling her clench around him. She was tight, impossibly so, and the thought of being inside her made him nearly lose control.
She caught his wrist, desperate. "I need you. Now. Please."
He growled, tugging her underwear down and off, tossing it aside. She lay before him—naked, flushed, utterly open, her legs parted for him. He stroked himself, lining up at her entrance, pausing just long enough to meet her eyes.
"You tell me to stop, I stop. Understand?"
She nodded, voice lost, already reaching for him. "Don't stop. Not now."
He pushed in, slow at first—her heat enveloping him inch by inch, stretching her around him. She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, body trembling with every inch he gave her.
When he was buried inside her, he paused, forehead pressed to hers, breath mingling. She wrapped her arms around him, anchoring herself as he started to move—slow, deep thrusts that had her biting her lip, moaning with every roll of his hips.
He set a rhythm, sweet at first, almost reverent, but as she met him thrust for thrust, their bodies growing slick with sweat, it turned rougher—faster, harder. She cried out, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back, begging him not to stop.
"Fuck—Tessa, you feel incredible—so fucking tight—"
She only whimpered, eyes rolling back, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer. He drove into her, rough now, fucking her deep and hard, hips slamming against hers, bed creaking beneath them.
Her moans grew louder, desperate, punctuated by little cries of his name. She clenched around him, her orgasm building with every thrust, until finally she shattered—back arching, mouth open in a silent scream, walls fluttering around his cock.
He barely held on, hips jerking as he lost control, spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan, his whole body shuddering. For a moment, neither of them moved, bodies tangled, breathless, clinging to each other in the aftermath.
Tessa was the first to speak, voice small and trembling. "You—you didn't pull out."
He kissed her, soft and slow, brushing sweaty hair from her face. "Didn't want to. Wanted you to feel it. Wanted to give you everything."
She blushed, looking away, but he caught her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You're incredible, Tessa. All of you."
Her lips trembled into a shy smile, but her eyes were hungry still—wanting, needing. "I don't want you to stop. Not yet."
He grinned, predatory, leaning down to kiss her again—slower this time, hands exploring every inch of her skin, tracing the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts. She arched into his touch, needy whimpers spilling from her lips.
He rolled her onto her stomach, kissing down her spine, hands kneading her ass. She gasped as he spread her legs, positioning himself behind her.
"Ready?" he murmured, voice rough with need.
She nodded, burying her face in the pillow, pushing her hips back toward him. He slid inside her again, slower this time, savoring the feel of her clenching around him. He set a steady rhythm, hips snapping against her ass, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the small room.
She moaned, louder now, desperate. "Harder, Ronan—fuck, please—"
He obliged, pounding into her, hands gripping her hips, fucking her deep and rough. She cried out, lost to sensation, her body shaking beneath him. He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles as he drove into her, relentless.
She came again, sobbing his name, her whole body convulsing. He wasn't far behind, the feel of her squeezing him, the sound of her voice, the sight of her body shaking with pleasure—it was too much. He groaned, thrusting deep one final time, spilling inside her, filling her up.
They collapsed together, tangled in sweat and sheets, gasping for breath. Ronan pulled her close, spooning her, kissing her shoulder.
Tessa whimpered, pressing back against him, her body still shivering with aftershocks. "Gods, I— I didn't know it could feel like that."
He smiled into her hair, voice soft. "I want you, Tessa. All of you. No more hiding."
She snorted, half-laugh, half-moan. "You think I could walk after that?"
He chuckled, nuzzling her neck. "Sleep, brave girl. I'm not going anywhere."
She sighed, melting into his arms, their bodies fitting together perfectly in the quiet aftermath.
The last thing Ronan heard before sleep claimed them both was Tessa's sleepy, sated murmur: "Don't you dare."
He tightened his arms around her and drifted off, utterly content.
Ronan wasn't sure how much time passed—seconds, hours—after their first fevered collapse. The world was a tangle of warmth and slick skin, Tessa's head tucked beneath his chin, her legs entangled with his.
He brushed sweat-damp hair from her face, memorizing her—how her lashes fluttered against flushed cheeks, the delicate arch of her brow. She looked so soft like this, utterly spent, her lips parted in small, unconscious whimpers every time his fingertips traced her waist.
She didn't open her eyes, but a slow, wicked smile curled on her lips. "You're staring," she whispered.
He grinned, unable to stop his hand from roaming—down the gentle swell of her ass, along the soft curve of her thigh. "Can you blame me?" he rumbled, nipping her shoulder. "You're perfect."
She laughed, low and incredulous, then rolled to face him, propping herself on one elbow. Her body was exquisite in the lamplight—breasts flushed and heaving, nipples swollen from his mouth, her stomach still quivering with aftershocks. He drank her in, eyes hungry.
"Do you always talk like that after?" she teased, biting her lip.
He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Only when it's true." His gaze raked down, lingering on her inner thighs—slick and glistening, streaked with his seed. A possessive rush roared through him. "And when I know you want to hear it."
A shiver ran through her. "You're dangerous, Ronan Kerr."
He leaned in, capturing her mouth with his, devouring her, not gentle at all this time. His hand found her breast, cupping it roughly, thumb circling her nipple until she gasped into his mouth.
"Open your legs for me, Tessa," he whispered, voice a dark caress.
She did, trembling, her body eager even after the first wild round. He slid his hand down her stomach, fingers parting her folds—slick and sensitive, so responsive his touch made her hips jerk.
He circled her clit, slow and merciless, watching her face as her mouth fell open, a helpless moan spilling out. "You like that?" he asked, voice rough, "You want more?"
"Gods, yes—" Her hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging in as he slipped a finger inside her, then another, twisting, pressing against that spot inside that made her shake.
He lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking hard, leaving a mark, then pulled back to look at her—lips swollen, eyes glazed with need.
"I want you to ride me, Tessa," he growled, voice low. "Want to see you lose control. Want to feel you take what you want."
For a moment, she froze, uncertainty flickering—but then her eyes went molten. She pushed him onto his back, straddling him, her thighs bracketing his hips. Her hair spilled around her face, wild and gorgeous, her hands bracing on his chest.
She reached down, gripping his cock—slick with their mingled wetness—lining him up. She teased the tip along her entrance, shuddering at the sensation, then lowered herself slowly, taking him inch by inch. Her head fell back, a deep moan tearing from her throat as he filled her again, stretching her open, impossibly full.
He bit his lip, holding himself still as she began to move—slow at first, rolling her hips, her breasts bouncing, her nails scraping his chest. Her face was undone, lips parted, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
Ronan's hands found her waist, guiding her, letting her set the pace—grinding down, swiveling her hips, rising and falling until she was gasping, riding him harder, chasing her own release.
"Fuck, Tessa—you look so good. So fucking good. Gods, you're perfect—"
She whimpered, leaning down to kiss him, messy and breathless. "Don't stop—please, Ronan, harder—"
He thrust up into her, meeting her rhythm, their bodies slapping together, the sound filthy and perfect. She cried out, lost in sensation, her moans louder, rougher, raw with need.
He watched her fall apart—her body tensing, trembling, then shattering around him as her orgasm hit, her walls fluttering around his cock. He groaned, hands digging into her hips, unable to hold back. He fucked up into her, hard and deep, until he came again—spurting hot inside her, filling her with everything he had.
Tessa collapsed onto his chest, breathless, sweat-slick, utterly spent. He held her close, stroking her hair, heart still racing.
"Holy hell," she breathed, voice shaky and dazed. "I've never—fuck, Ronan—"
He smiled, soft now, thumb brushing her cheek. "You were incredible. Still are."
She blushed, nuzzling against him, her skin sensitive, goosebumps rising along her arms. For a long while, there was only the sound of their breathing, the quiet hush of night outside the window, the thudding of Ronan's heart against her ear.
He rolled them gently, laying her beside him, kissing the top of her head. She tucked herself against his side, drawing little patterns on his chest with her finger.
"Don't want this to be a one-time thing," she murmured, shy and uncertain, as if afraid to hope.
He caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "It won't be," he promised, voice steady. "Not if I have any say."
She smiled, sleepy, sated. "Good. Because I don't think I could ever get enough."
He turned, pulling her closer, wrapping her in his arms. "Sleep, Tessa. I've got you."
She melted into him, letting herself be held—safe, wanted, desired. For the first time in years, she let herself drift off in someone's arms, content and unafraid.
Long after her breathing slowed, Ronan lay awake, listening to the storm outside, the world reduced to the warmth of the woman tangled in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing in her scent—smoke, lilac, sweat, and something that was only Tessa.
He knew there'd be trouble in the morning. The world outside this room was sharp and cold, full of secrets and unfinished business. But for now, there was only the dark, the hush, the soft weight of her leg over his hip, her body pressed close, his seed spilling out of her and onto the tangled sheets—a mark that, for one night, she was his.
And he was hers.