Chapter 10: Off the Clock

He kissed me in front of the cook and the drivers and half the Kearney house.

It was not a polite kiss.

His mouth was hard and certain on mine, and his hand slid into my hair, and I heard a chair scrape somewhere behind me.

"Back stairs," said the cook, to nobody.

Ronan picked me up.

I let him.

He carried me up two flights without breaking the kiss, kicked his door shut behind us and pushed me back against it.

"Rules," I said against his mouth.

"What rules?"

"I made them."

"You made them for the clock." He bit my lower lip, softly. "I'm off it."

I pulled his shirt out of his belt.

His skin was hot, and his stomach jumped when my hands went flat against it.

I felt a scar there, long and old, and I traced it with my thumb.

"Later," he said.

"Now."

"Erin."

"Take your shirt off."

He did, in one pull, and dropped it on the floor.

He was broad and scarred and hard in all the right places.

I looked at him for a long moment, and he let me.

Then I pushed him backward onto the bed.

He went down on his back with his eyes on my face, unaccustomed to being pushed.

"You're in charge," he said, low. "Tell me what you want."

"Your hands."

He gave me his hands.

They were big and rough, and he put them on my hips, and slid them up under my dress, slowly.

"Faster," I said.

"You said you wanted it slow."

"I never said that."

"I'm in charge of nothing," Ronan said, and tore the dress up over my head.

I laughed.

It turned into a sound I did not know I could make when his mouth closed over my breast.

He was warm and he was patient, and his tongue found the place that made my back arch and stayed there.

I dug my hands into his hair.

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