When my pulse begins to slow, I slowly open my eyes, and what I see takes my breath away.
It’s a library, but it is larger than life.
Bookshelves twelve feet high, with rows and rows of leather-bound books, paperbacks, and hardbacks—all the backs, basically. My mouth drops open as I take it in...it is a marvel. Bigger than a bookstore, surely, and cozier than the library I work in on campus, without a doubt.
I step away from the door, running a finger over the spines, smiling at the classics—Austen and Bronte and Hemingway. There are newer works too, many I recognize. Many I’ve never seen in my life.
There is a fireplace—unlit of course—and leather club chairs, pillows, and throw blankets. There are beautiful lamps with stained-glass inlaid for the shade—more red roses. I smile, trying to reconcile this place with the stony man that Ronan is. Buried under his gruff exterior there must be something else; something more. Something that holds an affinity for red roses and the scent of old books.
I light a fire. And while I usually can do so with no problem, my hands are all thumbs with so many thoughts running through my mind. So many conflicting desires.
I’m so clumsy with the kindling and I must go through an entire book of matches. Definitely could use some honing of my girl scout skills. Not to mention, that if it keeps snowing buckets, I really need to learn to ski. Lessons and equipment were never a priority growing up—even if we did always live on a mountain.
Once the fire is lit, and knowing Ronan is sleeping, I realize I’m pretty exhausted myself. So, I look for a book that will help ease my anxious mind. Something with a happily-ever-after is what I need, and since my Kindle is back in my car, I look for a book on these shelves.
Finding a romance novel I’ve never read, I settle into an oversized chair and lay a fleece blanket across my lap. Opening the spine, I see it is a well-read book, and as I flip through it, I see it was highlighted in several places.
It’s called Timber, and there are triplets on the cover. I smile at this, both at the over-the-top design—but also at the feelings of tenderness I immediately have for the man featured in this story.
I don’t know much about babies myself, but as I begin to read, I learn that the book’s hero is a mountain man not unlike Ronan; feral and in need of a woman to help calm his wild ways.
At the first sex scene, I blush, imaging Ronan reading this—it feels so out of character—but I quickly get over that as I let the insta-love romance sweep me away. What the main characters, Harper and Jax, share may have begun as a lustful night fueled by desire, but it quickly grows into something more real than any love I have ever seen.
But maybe not more real than what I have felt.
Last night Ronan said, It’s also meant to be. Like a fairy tale, and maybe, for him, that is what this is. More than sex as I had accused him of in the kitchen this morning.
Maybe for him this is real.
And maybe it’s real for me, too.
I read the chapters, my body awakens as I consume the intimate moments between the pages and the space between my legs pulses with heat.
I close my eyes, willing Ronan to wake.
Needing to be with him. Wanting to find a way to set things right.Chapter NineRonanI wake from a fitful sleep with Bella watching from the doorway, a candelabra is lit in the room, and the glow cloaks us in mystery. Damp sheets are twisted around me, but I see my wounds have been well dressed.
She took care of me.
Maybe she doesn’t hate me quite as much as her fury this morning suggested.
As I sit up in bed, my eyes adjust, and Bella comes closer. I can see a hunger in her eyes. She wears nothing but my bathrobe, which she unties, letting it hang loosely around her.
My cock hardens at the sight of her naked body. Her gorgeous tits taunting me, and her supple skin are a memory I will never forget.
“My beast,” she whispers. “I’m here to tame you.”
Her words stir something deep inside me—a desire that is unleashed as she lets the robe fall to the floor. When she steps toward me, her bare pussy is the only thing I have eyes for.
Well, that’s not true. All of her is divine. Beautiful. Mine.
“Bella,” I groan. “I must be dreaming.”
The last time we spoke, she was livid with me for reasons, I still don’t comprehend. But now she pulls the twisted sheets from my body and licks her lips.
She pushes my boxers down and kneels on my bed, her face lowering to my cock without speaking another word.