This situation is only temporary.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I curl up and bury my face into his pillow. I can’t be angry at him though. My kidnapper and my protector are one in the same. He’s trying to take care of me in the only way he knows how. And it’s oddly fucked up.
Come morning, I will try to have a rational conversation with him. But until then, I allow myself to fall asleep in the sanctuary of his bedroom.
***
I stretch out on Ronan’s bed and yawn.
The bed itself isn’t very comfortable, but I slept better than I have in a long time. I can smell coffee brewing from somewhere inside the house, and I suspect he’ll be in soon.
I pad across the room and decide to raid his drawers again since I don’t see any of my stuff in the room yet. I pull open the drawer that had his track pants and grab a pair off the top. But then I feel something beneath them that catches my attention.
I flip through the rest of the cloth until I find a cardboard box hidden beneath. Pulling it out, my curiosity is riled. I bring it back to the bed with me and open it up. And my breath completely flees with what I find there.
The first thing I recognize is an earring I thought I’d lost forever. It’s old and just a plain jane sterling silver braided hoop, but it’s one of my favorites. I used to wear them all the time.
I slide my finger over the grooves and set it aside, digging through the rest of the contents. There are handwritten notes in there. Notes I left for the other dancers. Even a few I’d left in Lachlan’s office regarding the schedule. They are nothing of significance, but Ronan kept them for some reason.
As I dig deeper, I find a napkin with my lipstick print on it. Another thing he must have retrieved from the club. One of my tank tops. Photographs of me from my apartment. Even a couple pairs of my lace panties. One pair in particular, I remember well. They are the same panties I was wearing when he killed Blaine and took me for the first time.
I’m still staring at all of it in shock when the door cracks open, followed by a sharp intake of breath. There’s a pause, and then Ronan stalks over and starts shoving everything back into the box with his cheeks flushing a furious shade of pink.
He reaches for the earring, and I snatch it away.
“That’s mine,” I tell him.
He isn’t looking at me. I’ve never seen him so embarrassed. So stiff.
“Ronan,” I call out to him, and finally his eyes snap down to mine. “Why do you have all this stuff?”
He doesn’t answer me. I want to hear him say it. He reaches for the earring again and I close my fingers around it.
“I like this earring,” I protest. “I thought I lost it.”
He stares at me like I just took away his favorite toy. And then with a huff, he takes the box to his closet and shoves it up onto the highest shelf where I can’t reach and into the dark shadows. I’m staring at his back while I choose my next words carefully.
“I’m right here,” I tell him. “Why do you need the earring when you have me?”
He turns around slowly and glances at me from across the room. And then his eyes move to the door. He’s probably thinking about bolting and locking me in again. But I’m not about to let that happen. So I go to him.
One terrifying step at a time. Logic be damned.
When I reach him, I grab the lapels of his suit and smooth my hands over his chest. I wrap my arms around him, and he tenses.
“What are you doing?” he asks suspiciously.
“Hugging you.”
He just stands there, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. His hair is disheveled for the first time since I’ve known him. He’s flustered. His breathing accelerated. And his eyes are darting over me, trying to anticipate my next move.
“Is this okay?”
He clears his throat. “It feels… okay?”
I drag my hands up and over his broad shoulders to the warm skin of his neck.
“Do you like me touching you, Ronan?” I ask. “Because sometimes I can’t tell.”
“Aye,” he answers, his voice husky. “I like it very much.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thoughtful.
“When you touch me, it feels different,” he adds. “Nice.”
The gravity of that simple statement knocks me off balance.
“Hasn’t anyone ever touched you in a nice way before?”
There are no words in response. But his body and his eyes tell me everything I need to know. Ronan Fitzpatrick is an iceberg. He only shows the world the smallest and safest parts of himself. But inside, underneath, is a wealth of hidden discoveries. I want to know them all.
I cling to him and lay my head against his chest. After a while, he seems to get the simple concept of a hug. His hands wrap around my waist and rest on my back. And even though it’s the most awkward hug I’ve ever had, it’s also the best.