7. Willow

Willow

By the time I get out of the shower after a lovely afternoon poolside, I've had plenty of time to question my sanity.

Flirting with a baseball player is bad enough.

Sharing his fucking hotel suite?

Definitely skirting the lines of my don't date a player rule.

Then again, I'm coming around to the idea of suspending that rule, just this once…with just this man. After all, it's not exactly breaking it if we don't date, just fuck, is it? I came here wanting a holiday hottie, and maybe Ronan is just the man for the job. Some hot vacation sex, then we go our separate ways to opposite ends of the country.

Opening the door of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel with my hair dripping down my back, I come to an abrupt halt at the sight of Ronan standing at the dresser, obviously in the middle of getting his clothes.

"Sorry," I blurt out, my cheeks turning pink. His eyes do a slow perusal of my body, but not in a lecherous way; more one of pure appreciation.

"Good shower?" he asks in a low, suggestive rumble.

"Yes," I manage to rasp out before straightening my spine and slipping past him. I feel his gaze follow me, and it's as if I'm wearing nothing at all. I go straight to my open suitcase that I had lifted onto the bed and pull out a purple bra and panty set, tucking them in close to my body as we stand there eyeing each other. My pulse starts to speed up, the heat from my shower, building.

His gaze on me is hungry. Predatory, even, and I shiver. There's an obvious bulge beneath his shorts, but he makes no move toward me, his restraint both admirable and annoying.

"Are you done in the bathroom?" he asks, his voice gravelly.

I nod, holding in my breath until the door to the bathroom closes behind him, and only then do I sag onto the edge of my bed. Damn, that was hot.

Once we're both dressed, we make our way to the hotel's main restaurant, armed with the voucher they insisted on giving Ronan as compensation for having to share his suite with me. To my surprise, he doesn't mention my little underwear stunt even once.

"Does it count as you taking me to dinner if the hotel's footing the bill?" I tease as we enter the open-air space. The atmosphere is heavy with a luscious tropical aroma, the firelight from torches lining the walkway adding to the romance. "God, how is everything just so beautiful here?" I blurt out, coming to a stop. The ocean is directly in front of us, and it's so picturesque, I just want to stare at it forever.

Ronan's hand finds my lower back, a light touch, but one I feel down to my toes. "It's stunning. And so are you if I haven't made that clear."

I angle my head to look up at him, once again marveling at how it feels to be with a man taller than me, even in the strappy heeled sandals I'm wearing. "Charmer."

He grins. "Honest."

With a slight shake of my head, I let him guide me over to a table overlooking the ocean, right on the edge of the terrace. He pulls my chair out, something a man has never done for me before, and I'll be damned if it doesn't make me feel good.

A server comes over, holding a tray with two tropical drinks. "Our signature cocktail, compliments of the hotel. We call it ‘mango fire' for the slight spice note you'll get at the end. It's a combination of mango and pineapple juice with dark, spiced rum, a splash of grenadine for colour, and our secret sugar and spice mix on the rim." They set the drinks down along with two menus. "Our special tonight is a coconut crusted mahi-mahi with a citrus infused vinaigrette, served alongside rice pilaf and roasted vegetables."

I give them a smile, murmuring my thanks, and Ronan does the same. After the server leaves, he raises his glass, tipping his head toward me. "To beautiful views."

We clink our glasses together and I take a sip. "Mmm," I moan as the cold, fruity, and slightly spiced drink hits my tongue. "That's incredible." Glancing down, I smirk and fish out the neon red cherry by the stem. "These are my favourite."

Ronan's chuckle is relaxed and warm. "I don't think I've ever met someone who actually likes maraschino cherries."

I pop it in my mouth, stem and all, and raise my eyebrows. A few seconds later, I open my mouth, and hold out my tongue.

"Holy shit, did you just tie that with your tongue?" He laughs as I lift the knotted stem off my tongue and nod.

"It's a fun party trick." I set it down and take another sip of the cocktail. Ronan shakes his head, then carefully fishes his own cherry out, holding it toward me.

"Want another?"

I briefly debate taking it from him the normal way, but no. Let's have some fun. Lifting slightly out of my seat, I lean over the table and open my mouth slightly. There's no mistaking the flash of heat in his eyes as he places the cherry on my tongue. I sit back down and make quick work of tying another knot before popping it out with a smirk.

"That's a talented mouth you've got there," he says, innuendo heavy in every word.

Lifting my eyebrows and shoulders in unison I give him an impish smile. "I'm a woman of many talents."

Ronan settles back in his chair after the server has taken our dinner order and picks up his drink. With the warm glow of the setting sun behind him, he truly does look like a god. His light-coloured shirt molds to his body, showing off his strong arms. The top two buttons are undone, letting me see the light smattering of hair on his chest. His face is relaxed, but those eyes. Those eyes are full of dirty promises, just waiting for me to say yes to him. To what is feeling more and more like a foregone conclusion.

Neither one of us will be on the couch tonight.

"What do you have planned for the rest of your time here?" he asks.

"Absolutely nothing."

He chokes out a small laugh in the middle of taking a drink and swallows before answering. "Nothing at all?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. For once, I have zero plans, zero commitments, zero responsibilities. I wanted a week of following every whim and only doing what I want, when I want."

"Sounds amazing." Our eyes are locked on each other, saying more than the words we've spoken can do. "Think you'll want some company for following your whims?"

I can feel a smile creeping across my face and don't bother trying to hide it. "I think I might, if the company is good enough."

God, his laugh does things to me. "It'll be better than good enough."

After that promise, I barely remember dinner. The food was delicious, I'm sure, but all I can think of is the inferno building inside of me. The moisture dampening my panties with every deep chuckle, every smirk, every peek of the dimple in his cheeks. This man is potent. Devastatingly alluring. I never thought I would let myself get intimate with a baseball player, but the truth is, there's no way I can resist Ronan Sinclair any longer.

When we leave the restaurant, it's unspoken but undeniable that we're going back to the room. It takes a ridiculous amount of self-control to keep my hands to myself the entire ride in the elevator. When his hand finds my lower back again as we exit the elevator and walk down the hall, I want to lean into him, feel more of his warmth. All of it.

We arrive back at the room, and instead of reaching around me to open the door, he slides his hand down to take mine, turning me around to face him. "I want to make this very clear because I feel like we've been dancing around each other all week. But I'm done dancing, Willow. If we go in that room together, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to devour you and make you see fucking stars. If that's not what you want, if you haven't been growing more wet and more desperate for me with every goddamn minute, I'll stay in my buddy's room tonight and you can have this one, no questions asked."

It's almost laughable that he could possibly think I'm feeling anything other than pure pulsating need by now. At the same time, his restraint, his chivalry, is kind of incredible. But it's not what I want. I want him unrestrained. I want to be devoured. I want to see stars.

Plucking the key card out of his hand, I scan it and push open the door, stepping inside. He holds it open, still not crossing the threshold. Is he going to make me say it?

Nah. I can do better. Reaching to my side, I unzip my dress, pull the thin straps off my shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. Stepping out of it, I hook my fingers in the edge of my panties and pause. "Do I keep going, or…"

With what can only be described as a growl, Ronan finally steps inside, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

"You're mine, Cherry. Tonight, you're mine."