So, you and this Annie girl, eh? I have to say, despite wanting you all for myself, I’m liking her, and from what I’ve read, everybody else does, too. Sometimes the public can be overly critical of the non-famous girlfriends of celebrities, because you know, jealousy and all that. So it’s a really good thing that people are embracing her. I read an article today on a very popular site questioning Brona’s story, since she hasn’t brought forth any evidence of her claims. I think you’re well on your way to being in the clear.

And not to worry about my little crush. I will harbor it with both grace and zero hard feelings.

Your chum,

The SML

P.S. I saw those pictures of you and Annie kissing in the park yesterday. Holy shit, they were hot! My mermaid may have had some happy time in the shower after seeing them. Enjoy the visual.

I was grinning like a fool by the time I got to the end of her message. Annie had a wicked side, I’d give her that. Still, the body of her message had been too casual and friendly, and I craved something more. This was why I pulled out my phone and typed a message to the real Annie.

Ronan: I miss your taste. Come over.

Her reply was almost immediate.

Annie: I’m working. You’ll see me tonight.

Oh, no way was she getting off that easily. I went into full-on sext mode.

Ronan: I want to make you come with my mouth.

Annie: Ronan! I’m at the office and Gerta is RIGHT BESIDE ME!

Ronan: Gotta say, that kinda makes it hotter.

Annie: *squints eyes* Do you have a thing for Gerta?

Ha! I knew she didn’t like how friendly I’d gotten with her assistant.

Ronan: Jealous, love?

It took a while for her to answer that one, and I liked to imagine she was cursing how transparent she’d been.

Annie: No.

Ronan: Good, because it’s not Gerta’s tits I fantasize about coming all over.

Another long pause. She’d seen the message, but she wasn’t typing back yet. Then finally her response came.

Annie: Please stop texting me. Gerta thinks I might be coming down with the flu. Your last text caused a coughing fit.

Ronan: Got you thinking, though, didn’t it? ;-)

Annie: Yes. Too much. You’re too much.

Ronan: I’ve actually been told I’m just the right amount :-D Admit it, you’re missing me as much as I’m missing you.

Annie: Maybe. Just a little.

Ronan: Tell me what you miss about me.

There was an even longer pause this time. I could just imagine her fretting over whether or not to indulge me.

Annie: I miss how you smell. How your body feels against mine.

Okay, I had not been expecting her to play along. And yeah, I was already hard.

Ronan: You gonna let me inside you tonight, love?

I could just imagine her blushing.

Annie: Isn’t that more of a fourth or fifth date kind of thing?

Ronan: I’m Irish. We don’t adhere to that shite.

Annie: I have to get back to work now, Ronan.

Ronan: Okay, then. See you tonight. xxx

Ronan: Keep thinking of me.

Ronan: I can’t stop thinking about you.

When it was finally time for me to get ready for my date with Annie, I put an inordinate amount of time into my appearance. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever put this level of effort into looking good before. In the end, I settled on a fitted white shirt and a pair of dark blue trousers from some designer or other. Aside from the fact that you could kind of see my tattoo through the shirt, I looked pretty fucking respectable.

I was addicted to the way Annie’s eyes drank me in whenever she saw me, and I wanted to encourage more of it. I’d insisted I be the one to pick her up, and she’d grudgingly provided me with her address. She lived in a nice building in a very upper-middle-class area. It wasn’t over-the-top fancy—which I imagined she could well afford, given the extra income from her blog—but it was cozy. I found myself smiling. I liked it before I even stepped inside the building.

I wasn’t smiling for long because when I knocked on Annie’s door, she wasn’t the one to answer. Instead, some blond prick stood before me, one eyebrow raised as he assessed my appearance. In my opinion, no man should be assessing the appearance of another man unless he bats for the penis squad.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, arching a brow.

“No, you’re all right, mate. I think I have the wrong apartment,” I replied and turned to try the next door when Annie called out. “Ronan, is that you? Come on in.”

Her voice sounded a touch strained, and I noted she was calling me Ronan rather than Mr. Fitzpatrick. Stepping past Mr. Peroxide, I walked into the lovingly furnished apartment, taking it all in. It was so warm and lived-in that I felt like staying here with Annie for the evening rather than taking her out as planned.

Fuck, it smelled faintly of her perfume, too.

It was so perfect that I almost forgot about the arsehole standing behind me. I ignored him and turned to Annie, who was wearing a knee-length midnight blue dress that fit her perfectly, highlighting her little waist and generous breasts, though I wished it didn’t flare out and hide her shapely legs and thighs. But it did dip attractively at her cleavage, displaying her gorgeous creamy skin to perfection. Her long hair was down, and she’d put on a small touch of makeup. I stepped up close to her and took both her hands in mine, noticing her nervous swallow. I rested them on my chest and rubbed my thumbs along the inside of her wrists.

“You look beautiful, love,” I murmured.