He looked horrified, and there was no mistaking the pity in his eyes.

“Don’t. Don’t feel sorry for me. I didn’t tell you this so that you would feel sorry for me.”

“Screw that. Of course I feel sorry for you. How could I not? That’s a shite story, and those people were arseholes; and if they were here right now, I’d fuck them up—well, I’d fuck him up. But I’d give her a stern talking-to.”

I exhaled a little laugh and shook my head, trying to refocus on the reason I’d started telling him the story to begin with. “My point is I can’t date. I can’t be someone’s girl. I can’t be yours; I can’t—”

I didn’t get to tell him what else I couldn’t do because he kissed me, and this time it wasn’t a staged and chaste press of his lips to mine. This time he was ferocious. His hands dropped from my face, and he wrapped me in his arms, crushing me to his chest. His tongue invaded my mouth, stroked me, demanded that I respond.

I did.

I melted against him and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, not caring that he was damp with sweat. Despite his earlier run, he smelled like sweetness and spicy cologne and something uniquely Ronan.

When it ended and my mouth was thoroughly loved, I was a lot dizzy.

“Now, you listen to me.” Ronan nipped my jaw, still holding me close. He whispered hotly against my ear, tickling me and making me shiver, “This is happening. You and I are happening, and this is real. I like you—and more than just in the biblical sense, whatever the hell that means. I love that you’re brilliant and generous and gorgeous and real. I like you.”

He took this opportunity to tongue my ear, sending shocks of delight and pleasure racing down my spine.

“Ah….” I arched my back, instinctively pressing my body to his.

“I don’t give a shite about your abandonment issues because I’m not going to abandon you. They don’t matter. Don’t let them matter.”

He sucked on my neck, his hands roaming, massaging my back and bottom through my exercise clothes.

“You’re just going to have to trust me. And tomorrow I’m taking you out and showing you off; not just because I really fucking like how you look, but because you’re smart and good and genuine….”

I rubbed myself against him, made a little wild by his commanding aggressiveness. Therefore, I was wholly disoriented when he gripped my upper arms and held me away. He glared at me until I blinked at him and was able to bring him into focus.

Seemingly satisfied that he had my undivided attention, Ronan ended his suspended thought with a low growl. “…and now you’re mine.”

Chapter Twelve

@Jenny0989: @RonanFitz Men like you make me sick. You deserve to be hung, drawn, and quartered #manwhore #teambrona

@RonanFitz: @Jenny0989 Hang and draw me all you like, but go near my quarters, and we'll have a problem.

*Ronan*

March 18

4:10 p.m.

Dear Ronan.

I agree, the truth always comes out. I’m so glad you didn’t do anything rash. She doesn’t deserve your time and attention (or energy).

I was surprised by your questions in the last email, regarding what I’m getting out of helping you. The answer is quite simply this: I am getting the pleasure of your correspondence. I wonder if anyone has ever told you this before, but you are very charming and likable. You’re very clever—your emails make me laugh. I like you.

-SML = Someone (who) Maybe Likes (you)

It was Friday morning, and I was re-reading The Socialmedialite’s last message for the umpteenth time as I rubbed at my temples. My head was officially wrecked. Now I knew who the faceless person was on the other end of the emails.

I’ll admit, when I first found Annie’s phone in my car, I was furious. I felt betrayed and beyond angry. I couldn’t believe that I’d yet again been taken for a fool by a woman. The doorman who worked in my building, Jeffrey, who I’d built up a friendly and amiable rapport with, had asked me how my day had been, and I’d responded with a frighteningly manic: “WONDERFUL, JEFFREY, JUST CUNTING WONDERFUL!!”

So yeah, Jeffrey and I were now on the outs.

When I reached the penthouse, I went one too many rounds on the punching bag in the gym. I didn’t wear any protective gear, and my hands were abraded and raw by the time I was done. Fortunately, my temper had simmered down enough that I could bring myself to steep them in some warm water, disinfect them, and wrap them up for the night.

I thought I might be having an emotional meltdown, like a wife who just found out her husband of twenty years was cheating on her. On the periphery of my mind, I was aware that my betrayed reaction was way over the top. It brought me to the stark realization that I was far more invested in Annie than I’d thought.

I knew I wanted her physically, but it was becoming plainly obvious I had feelings for her that ran deeper than that. She’d woven her way into my affections, fucking up my steady plan to keep life simple. I was supposed to be going out and having no-strings sex, yet here I was, allowing myself to get involved. There were so many strings it wasn’t funny, and we weren’t even having sex yet.

But back to my most recent discovery. I tried to put things into perspective.

Yes, she had been lying to me, but I’d only known her for a short while. It wasn’t like I’d done anything to earn her loyalty. After I’d worked myself to exhaustion, I collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling. My body was dog-tired, but my mind was a flurry of activity. I tried to imagine myself in Annie’s shoes. I mean, the woman had difficulty putting herself out there at the best of times. I guessed that admitting her secret famous online identity to the likes of me would be a scary prospect. It was understandable she’d kept it to herself. In fact, if she had come right out and told me, I might have been suspicious. It would have been way out of character.