The Hooker and the Hermit Page 111

“Does this mean you won’t tie me up anymore?”

He paused, stilled, and then leaned away, searched my face. His eyes were bright with reverence and devotion. “You tell me.”

“I like touching you. I like touching you a lot.”

“Then—”

I hurried to add, “But I also like not touching you.”

His gaze warmed with happiness and maybe a little amusement.

“Then we’ll do both. My only stipulation is that I have a safe word, too.”

My eyebrows jumped as I stared up at him, and I felt the stirrings of a quizzical grin on my lips. “You want a safe word?”

“Yes.” He lifted his fingers to my now messy hair and tucked it behind my ears, his poorly suppressed smile claiming his features.

I crossed my arms over my chest and cleared my throat as I watched him expectantly. “And what will your safe word be?”

“Éclair.”

“Éclair?”

“Yes,” he said, his smile now enormous, his brown eyes bright with mischief and affection.

“Why éclair?”

“Because, love….” Ronan cupped my cheeks in his palms and tilted my head back as he lowered his lips to mine. He brushed a soft kiss over my parted mouth and then whispered, “I’ve always wanted you to eat me like an éclair.”

He wanted me to react, be shocked at his lascivious suggestion—typical, wonderful, dirty-minded Ronan.

Instead, I ignored the intent of his statement and pressed, “But doesn’t that undermine the purpose of a safe word?” His languid near-kisses were making me feel warm and fuzzy all over.

Ronan chuckled, nipped my bottom lip, made sure my eyes were on his as he responded, “Oh, Annie, I’ll never be safe with you.”

Epilogue

*Ronan*

Using my key, I opened the door to Annie’s apartment and stepped inside. She sat in the living area wearing a loose top that hung off one shoulder, giving me a tempting and very sexy view of her silky skin. Her hair was in a bunch on top of her head while her fingers danced rapidly over the computer keys. Too fuckin’ cute. I still couldn’t get used to the fact that one day I was going to marry this woman. That I had her for keeps.

Her and all her oddball online friends.

At first it was strange meeting these people that she’d known as The Socialmedialite but now was free to interact with in person. I was surprised that I liked most of them, especially Broderick. He’s the quiet sort, and I might have been tad jealous of their relationship when I found out about it. But I changed my mind about him pretty quickly. Added bonus, he could actually keep up with me in the park when we went running.

Hearing me come in, Annie glanced over her shoulder and gave me a warm smile, her eyes flickering with curiosity to the brown paper bag I held in my hand. I smiled back at her but said nothing, setting the bag on the entry table and going to hang up my jacket. I really liked Annie’s apartment here in New York. It felt so much like her, like home, and I was dreading having to leave when I returned to the team next month.

We’d casually discussed trying out the long-distance thing for a while but hadn’t managed to come to an agreement. In all honestly, I didn’t want even a centimeter of distance between us, never mind a whole ocean. So yeah, I wanted to be away from her about as much as I wanted to put in for a hysterectomy. Annie told me she’d give up her blog to come live in Ireland, but I could see the reluctance in her eyes. The prospect of leaving it all behind pained her. I just couldn’t bring myself to make her do it. She loved blogging. It was her joy, her passion.

So we were at something of a standstill.

Well, I was hoping to remedy that standstill today. I just hoped she’d go for it.

“What’s in the bag, Ronan?” she called casually. I resisted the urge to snicker because I was intentionally misleading her with this one. I wanted to surprise her. The bag bore the stamp of her favorite Italian bakery; however, it didn’t contain any of the usual sugary treats. After she’d put herself completely and totally at the mercy of the media by coming out as the creator of New York’s Finest in order to declare her love for me, I wanted to give her something in return. Annie had made the absolute sacrifice; she had given up her anonymity to be with me, and though I wasn’t sure I had anything quite so weighty to lay on the line, I wanted to give her something that meant a lot to me. Something that would show her how much she mattered. It was quid pro quo. If she could give up something for me, I could give up something for her, too.

“Nothing important,” I lied as I stepped up behind her, swept some fallen strands of hair away from her neck, and bent to place a kiss just below her ear. She shuddered at the touch of my lips, and I grinned. Even the tiniest reaction from her was addictive, and I savored every one of them.

“Call Lucy on Skype, would you?” I murmured. “We both have something we want to discuss with you.”

“Okay, but why am I calling your sister?”

“You’ll see.”

Perplexed, Annie did as I asked, and soon Lucy was smiling at us on screen, wearing a T-shirt with a psychedelic-looking My Little Pony on it, her multi-colored hair hanging in a long, loose plait.

“Hello, lovebirds, how’s she cuttin’?” Lucy chirped, full of excitement.

I knew the reason why, but Annie didn’t. Not yet. She gave me a confused look at Lucy’s turn of phrase, so I explained, “It’s Irish slang for how’s it goin’.”

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