TWENTY

Justine

I scuff my sneaker in the dirt as we watch the boat approach. The words have been welling in my throat ever since this morning and I can't leave Rottager Island without saying them, even if it's a bad idea. I just haven't been able to work up the courage.

Which feels stupid, given we've been up close and real personal very recently. "Thank you," I say, under my breath.

Ronan turns with a quizzical look. "Thank you?"

I flush. "For last night. And this morning." I hope I don't have to say anymore.

He shakes his head and a cold dread squeezes my stomach. He's about to tell me off.

But he only leans a little closer, pinning me with a serious look. "You're goddamn beautiful like that. When you let yourself go. Someone should have told you that before now."

The boat draws close. He pulls away.

There's no time for more. I know instinctively we can't speak about this again. It wasn't that sort of thing. But the throb between my legs and the pleasant ache in my chest at his unexpectedly kind words has me floating over the waves all the way back to Northpoint Island. It might have been a secret one time thing—OK, technically two times, or was that four? I've got to stop thinking about it.

He smiles more on the way back to the hotel than he did on the way out here. Yeah, I notice, because I spend the whole trip sneaking looks.

He catches me when we're pulling up to the jetty, and I can't help the laugh that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

He gives me that sardonic smile of his and all I can remember is the way his mouth felt on my pussy and the way I rode him like I was humping my pillow this morning. He didn't even take off my clothes, yet he still gave me an earth shattering orgasm.

What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

His hand on the small of my back as we leave the boat steadies me. His low, rumbly voice in my ear does the opposite. "Don't."

I blink up at him, twisting my head to look for clues in his face that, of course, I don't find. He doesn't look grumpy. In fact, he looks amused. "What?"

"Don't look at me like you want to climb back in my lap and beg for more."

I open my mouth to deny it, but heat is already creeping over my chest.

He shakes his head. "So needy. I'm going to be mighty tempted to do it again and that's not happening here."

He jerks a horn toward the huge white facade of the hotel we have one more night in. Of course, we're back to cameras and crew and zero privacy.

Doesn't stop me chewing on his words all through the late breakfast we're given or through the hasty shower I take and while the makeup artist does my makeup.

Clearly, I have a lot to learn.

I mean, I didn't even know I could squirt. I didn't even know I could come more than once at a time!

Apparently, Ronan knew. Or guessed. Or he's just that good.

Yeah. I have questions.

More questions occur as well, now I'm dwelling on it. Questions I had when Cameron and I first got together but he promptly squashed. Like, is it true all guys have zero interest after they come? Is it unreasonable to think a guy might keep trying to make me come even if he already did?

I used to think it was unreasonable. I used to think that because Cameron insisted it was true. Since I never had another partner other than him, I didn't know any better. I mean I always hoped. The heroes in my romance novels always make sure their heroine orgasms. I'm pretty sure I've read books where the guy kept going even after he came.

Cameron always said that was just fiction.

Then again, he always said most people don't enjoy oral sex, and it was unreasonable of me to expect someone to go down there.

I'm starting to think a lot of what he said was just bullshit.

Or maybe monsters don't work like human guys.

I know just who to ask about that. Only, I know he won't relish me asking on camera.

I must be obvious because I catch my makeup artist laughing when she finishes my mascara. "Honey, I'm going to have to do your lips again, cause you keep biting on them. Something you want to confess?" She gives me a wink and I'm glad of the foundation disguising my blush.

I really need to start wearing more makeup all the time. "N-no. Why would you say that?" OK, worst attempt to cover up a guilty conscience ever.

My makeup artist raises a brow but says nothing. She turns to get the lipstick back out again.

"Let's just say, there was something..." I'm already regretting this.

She turns with a grin. "Mmm?"

"Well, what if I, um, I mean what if a contestant happened to need some time for a private conversation. That wouldn't be filmed..." I cough. "Asking for a friend, of course."

She chuckles. "Well, don't tell them I told you this, but the bedroom stuff is hard to film. Since they don't make you wear mics to bed." She gives me a little wink.

Just then Amy walks in, clipboard in hand. "Well, we're only two hours off schedule for the first activity of the day. Let's get going, shall we?"

I'm rushed out the door and I don't have a chance to ask any follow-up questions. I certainly don't have a chance to talk to Ronan properly. Cameras and crew are all over us all day.

He acts perfectly polite. In fact, more so than he has the previous two days.

I should feel grateful.

All I feel is a burning desire to know if this is a mask and if he's still thinking about last night and this morning the way I am.

Amy comes to talk with me at dinner when Ronan excuses himself for a moment. "Are things OK?" she asks me.

I'm surprised. "Sure. Why?"

She sighs. "I guess after a night all alone on Rottager Island, well... I was just hoping you two would be a little more..." She trails off, rolling her hand in a circular gesture.

It feels weird for me to be the one saying this, but... "Um... Amy, it's not real, though, is it?"

She laughs. "Oh, I know, but most couples experience some kind of chemistry. Maybe it's because you stood in at the last minute rather than being chosen, but I was convinced that wouldn't matter. I really thought there was something here."

At that point, Ronan returns from the restroom and Amy breaks off. I'd like to ask her what she meant, but not in front of Ronan. Besides, she probably didn't mean anything other than we're not giving her the footage she wants. I guess we'll have to try a little harder.

"Next up is a moonlit beach walk."

I can just about hear Ronan's groan, but when I look at him, he's just nodding passively.

"This is your last evening before you have to choose whether or not to renew your vows and take the trial marriage back into the real world."

I blink. It hadn't even clicked that this would be our last night together.

Of course, Ronan won't renew. It was hard enough convincing him to come on this show in the first place.

Would he be super mad with me, if I wrote yes? Only if there's a chance—even a tiny chance—I don't want to be the one to throw it away. But if he says no, it's all over anyway. We both have to say yes to continue.

I'm still considering my options while we walk along the beach. I'm taking things slow. My ankle is still a little tender and I don't want to roll it in the sand. Something I'm highly likely to do.

The romantic moment is kind of spoiled by the half dozen people around us with cameras and equipment, but it's still a beautiful night. Cold, though. Summer definitely feels over and the wind off the ocean is chilly. Especially with me only in a thin cocktail dress.

Ronan slips off his jacket and wraps it around me. "Come on, Traffic Lights. Don't need you turning blue."

It swamps me, of course. The ends of the sleeves trail down over my hands. But it's so warm I snuggle into it and give him a grateful smile, despite his persistent use of the nickname. "You seem different today," I murmur.

He only grunts.

I expect him to continue to communicate in monosyllables, but again he surprises me when we reach the charming bench at the stop of a short climb, Ronan crosses a hoof over the other and slings his arm across the back of the seat. "Tell me about your most romantic experience up until this point."

From the corner of my eye, I see Amy. She was clearly approaching with more question cards, but when Ronan speaks, she backs away slowly.

I'm just as shocked as she is.

He's so big that, even though we're sitting a little apart, his arm stretches out behind me. It feels very intimate. I mean, it's nowhere near as intimate as the other things we've done over the last twenty four hours, but this time he's doing it in public. I'm caught off guard. "I can't think of one."

He snorts. "Your ex was a piece of work."

It warms something inside me hearing him talk about Cameron like that. Not that Ronan knows anything about him, but the way he's prepared to sum him up in a sentence like that and jump in on my defense every time the subject comes up makes me feel all gooey inside.

"Yeah. I always used to wish he'd take me on a really romantic date. Probably silly, but I had this whole scenario—" I cut myself off, laughing at my own naivety.

"What was it?"

I look around at Ronan. I don't get the impression he's asking just to deride me. He seems genuinely curious.

"Well," I start hesitantly. "Something ridiculously ostentatious. Like a hot air balloon ride, or a picnic where he'd organized a skywriter to write a romantic message in the sky or, you know, anything that demonstrated he'd really put in a big effort. It's not really about the thing itself, more the gesture." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, unused to wearing it down.

Ronan pushes a hand into my hair and pulls it out again, teasing through the strands. "It's pretty like this. You should wear it down more often."

I expect him to stop, but his fingers move up, stroking through my hair again, and a shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the chilly sea breeze.

"You deserve effort," he says eventually. "You deserve someone who's prepared to do that for you."

He doesn't say he would do that for me.

I remind myself of that for the next hundred unsteady beats of my heart. "What about you?"

He snorts. "You'll be ashamed of me. I don't do romantic."

"Not at all? Wasn't there an ex-girlfriend..." I trail off, not really wanting to know the answer to that.

Ronan shakes his head. "No one special."

We sit like that for a long time.

I keep expecting Amy to interrupt, but the crew are surprisingly silent and still. No one dashes in to fix my hair or touch up my makeup. No one darts in with a prompt or a question.

Eventually, I shiver and Ronan sighs, tucking his jacket around me a little tighter. HE turns to the crew. "We'd better wrap this up, don't you think?"

When I look around, everyone is watching us. I mean they're always watching, I get that, but this time something is different. There's a stillness in the air. Almost like expectation.

I wonder how crushed they'll be tomorrow when Ronan doesn't renew his vows.