Page 90 of Illusive
Following him, Ireland eyed his equally gorgeous backside. He had the tightest, lushest male ass she’d ever seen. Thick with muscle, she often fantasized with memories of their abandoned tryst in the Vidal Hotel, when they’d lain beneath the mirrored ceiling, and she’d watched as he used the power of his incredible body to drive his big cock deep inside her over and over again.
“Stop it,” Ronan snapped, looking at her as he pulled on oven mitts. “I know that look you have,cher. You’re in no condition to have such thoughts in your head.”
She pulled out one of the barstools at the island where she’d previously laid out place settings for two. “Whatever. The doctor said I can resume all activities as soon as I feel up to it.”
“Which you absolutely do not,” he argued, opening the oven and releasing the smells of cheese, bacon, and spices into the air. He set the casserole on the cooktop, took off the mitts, and turned off the oven. “This will need to cool down. As will I.”
Ireland managed a smile, even though she yearned for his body to be once again close to hers. When he touched her, she felt no pain at all, but more than that, shefelt. The strange disconnect she’d been plagued with since arriving at the hospital was like a thick fog around her, obscuring emotion and sensation.
She watched as he rounded the island, his shoulders visibly tense. He went to his bags and withdrew a foil-capped bottle of sparkling apple juice. It was such a silly, fun, and thoughtful thing to have brought that it made her laugh.
Ronan looked at her and gave a reluctant smile. “That’s my favorite sound—your laugh.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He nodded and returned to the kitchen, opening a cupboard to withdraw two champagne flutes. “Speaking of… I thought you might want to hear how the Six-Ninths’ single is coming along.”
Her brows lifted. “Really? What do you think?”
Shrugging, he loosened the muselet. “I’m not the expert.”
“Is it on your phone?”
“Oui.”
She held out her hand. “If you don’t mind, I can connect it to Lauren and play it on the speakers.”
He pulled his phone out, unlocked it, and slid it across the island. By the time she got the two devices connected, Ronan had finished pouring and joined her on the other side of the island.
She handed his phone back. “I don’t know where you’ve got the file.”
Ronan swiped a couple of times, and then the music flowing from the speakers changed to the opening notes of the in-progress song.
“Oh…” she breathed, startled. Six-Ninths was an alternative rock band, which was partly why their last few albums hadn’t done as well as their debut. What she was hearing, though, was something entirely different.
He looked at her over the rim of his flute in silent inquiry.
“It’s good.” She gave a breathless laugh. “Really good! I don’t know how my dad heard this song out of Six-Ninths, but?—”
“Your father had no hand in this,cher.”
Ireland blinked at him. “What? The guys pulled this together themselves?”
Ronan hesitated. “Well…the harmonica is me. And I suggested the bluesy tone. It just felt to me like the lyrics begged for it.”
“Wait.What?”
The song came to an end, which allowed the sound of Blizzard’s purrs to fill the air. Looking down, she saw her cat shamelessly sprawled across Ronan’s crocodile dress boots.
“Ronan…” She set her hand over his. “Youproduced this song?”
“Well…uh…I wouldn’t say that.”
Ireland felt something bloom in her chest, bubbly like the sparkling apple juice and just as sweet. “You chose the direction of the song and the arrangement. That’s producing, baby.”
She slid her sling over her head and let it fall, carefully sliding off the stool so that she could go to him.
“You’re being a bad patient,” he told her, but his eyes were kind and warm.
