by Celia Kyle
Yanking the door closed with a soft click, Gillian stuck her tongue out at the man on the other side of the door. Jerk.
Taking care of business, Gillian made sure her makeshift pajamas were in place before calling for her erstwhile escort.
“Ronan!” she whispered as loud as she dared. The whole house didn’t need to wake up because she had to use the bathroom.
He came into the room just as she was hobbling toward the sinks to wash her hands. Growling, he picked her up and plopped her onto the counter.
“What is with you and carrying me? I have two feet, ya know. It may hurt, but I am able to walk.”
Ronan mumbled something in response while he turned the tap on and grabbed a washcloth from a nearby towel rung. She watched as he soaked the cloth and rubbed it with soap with quick, efficient movements. When he reached for her hands, she snatched them back.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” She tilted her head to the side and raised her brow.
As cliché as it sounded, if looks could kill, she’d be dead. Apparently one in the morning was not the time to tease Ronan. Not that any time seemed to be the right time. He reached for her hands and she allowed him to take hold of her wrist and she wiggled her fingers in his grasp, waving hello.
“Ronan…” She sung his name, prodding him.
Dropping the washcloth into the sink he braced his weight on the counter and stared at her, his sea blue eyes darkening to nearly black. “You deserve to be treated like fine china, Gillian. We like caring for you, which includes carrying you from place to place. Hell, when your feet are healed we’ll probably still be carrying you around just to feel your skin against ours.”
Oh. So not funny.
Thrusting her hands out, she stared at the wall over his shoulder, praying he couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes. We like caring for you? Feeling your skin against ours? Yeah, right. And Gillian was the next president of the United States. As. If.
The brothers barely knew her. They’d been acquainted for a few hours and they liked taking care of her. They were definitely taking chivalry a little too far.
Ronan grasped her hands in his and wiped them down with the soaped washcloth, treating her as if she were a child who couldn’t wash her own hands. It irked her. No, it pissed her off he treated her this way. She’d stood up to Kyle. She wasn’t a victim any longer, but a survivor. She’d be damned if she tolerated being railroaded by anyone. When he rinsed her hands and dried them, she jumped down from the counter while he replaced the damp towel.
The moment her feet touched the floor pain shot through her legs and her knees buckled under the agony. Gillian crumpled to the floor in a moaning heap and gasped when one of her newest bruises collided with the tile floor. FuckFuckFuck. Fuck!
Ronan acted predictably, growling and pulling her trembling body into his arms. He sat down on a stool she hadn’t noticed before and cradled her in his lap. Whispering words she couldn’t understand into her hair. And then she felt it and froze—Ronan was pressing soft kisses along her temple as he whispered.
Gillian’s pain washed away under his rain of kisses and sweet words. Even if she couldn’t understand him, she understood what he was trying to do. Wiping her cheeks, she found them covered in moisture. She was crying and hadn’t realized it.
“You okay, Gilly?”
She melted as his rumbling, sweet voice washed over her when he used the nickname Max had given her.
“I’m okay.”
His callused hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head back until they were looking each other in the eye.
“Gilly…” He licked his lips and she mirrored his action. “You’re special. More than you realize, you’re special to me and my brothers.” Ronan’s thumb wiped away a new tear. “We want to take care of you because it’s what you deserve. Let us pamper you, Gilly.”
Ronan was offering everything she’d ever wanted from a man. Only he was offering three men to pamper her, not one.
“Okay, while I’m here, I’ll try to relax. It’s just new, Ronan. I’ve never had a man take care of me before…”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Yeah, Max told us about your door.”
Shame replaced the feelings of warmth that had begun winding their way through her body. Max had told them. They knew. They all knew of her mistake.
“Hey. It’s not your fault. He is an insecure dick with legs. Our mother taught us better. Yeah, the world has quite a few ‘doors’ wandering around who should be turned into kindling. But nothing’s going to happen to you while you’re here, okay?”
Nodding, she laid her head on his shoulder while his hand caressed her cheek.
“Thank you, Ronan, but I don’t want to be a burden to you all and I don’t want to bring Kyle to your door. It’s not your fight. I’m a stranger to you…”
“Shhh…” His hand traveled from her cheek to stroke her neck, shoulder, and skim along her arm leaving goose bumps in its wake. A near stranger’s touch shouldn’t feel so good, so right.
Snuggling closer to Ronan, pressing more of her body to his chest, her hand traveled and came to rest at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the embrace of a man for the first time in years.
“Gilly?”
“Hm?”
“Going to take you to bed now, okay?”
Sliding her hand to the back of his neck, she stroked his skin before burying her fingers in his hair. She loved doing that, sifting through the silken strands with her fingers made her feel closer to a man.
With half-closed eyes she raised her head and looked at Ronan, really looked at him. She couldn’t believe she ever thought the Bearclaw brothers were identical. In her eyes, they were far from it.
Ronan licked his lips in a gesture she was beginning to recognize as a nervous habit. Seemed she made him nervous. Good.
Seconds ticked by and Ronan slowly closed the difference between them. She just wanted him to kiss her already! He was probably trying to give her time to protest, but she wasn’t going to protest. She wanted his lips on hers. Now.
Then it happened. Ronan brushed his lips across hers, a tentative caress and gliding of his skin against her lips and she felt her nerve endings come alive. His tongue emerged and licked the seam of her lips. He didn’t have to ask twice, she opened for him, offering her mouth eagerly.
At her acquiescence, his tongue bombarded her mouth, swirling and dueling with her own until she surrendered completely. Ronan’s tongue explored every corner of her mouth, sliding and caressing every surface before sucking her tongue and releasing her briefly to nip her lower lip. The sensual sting shot through her body and straight to her core.
The kiss didn’t end there. His tongue returned, plunging into her very depths, scorching her soul with his kiss. Their tongues mimicked the dance they both ached for, but before it could go any further, Gillian pulled away.
It was moving too far, too fast. They’d just met and she was making out with him in the middle of the night, in the bathroom of all places. Every cell in her body screamed and begged her to return to his kiss, but her brain told her to quit acting easy.
They were both breathing hard, the sounds echoing in the small room and she couldn’t look at him. If she did, she’d start kissing him again.
Staring at his chest, she wouldn’t look at his face out of fear of what she’d see there, she spoke, barely a whisper.
“You said something about bed?”
Oh! That was so freaking dumb! Now he’ll think I want him to join me! Don’t I want him to join me? No. No, I don’t. At least not yet.
“Right.” He took a deep breath, forcing his chest to press against hers. “Bed.”
“Bed alone.”
“Alone. Right.”
In one smooth move he was standing with Gillian in his arms and striding toward the open bathroom door. In seconds she was back in the guest room and he sat her on the bed.
Ronan held the covers up, probably
so she could crawl beneath them, but she wasn’t ready to lie down. Not yet.
“It’s okay, I’ve got to get comfortable and then I’ll crawl in.”
She tried to give him a “get the hell out of here” smile, but it didn’t work. Or, he just refused to catch the hint.
“Gilly, didn’t I just tell you I want to take care of you? That includes tucking you in, unless the kiss changed that and you just want me to get the hell out of here.”
Okay, he understood the look, but not the reason. Great.
“Ronan, I’m going to spell it out for you and embarrass the hell out of myself at the same time. The kiss was amazing. Freaked me the hell out, but amazing nonetheless. I want you to leave because I plan on taking these pajama bottoms off and if you’ll recall, my laundry wasn’t done when you guys gave me clothes to sleep in.”
It finally got through to him.
“Oh. Oh!” He gave her a wicked smile, one that reached his eyes and she didn’t think she’d ever seen a more beautiful sight. “You sure you don’t want my help?”
Laughing at him as he wiggled his eyebrows, she shook her head.
“Thank you for the offer, but no.”
“Fine.” He stuck out his lower lip, but leaned forward for a quick kiss before turning and heading for the door. “Night, Gilly.”
“Night, Ronan.”
Chapter Five
Ronan pulled the door closed as he stepped over the threshold of Gillian’s room and into the hallway. Leaning against the closed door, he willed his heart to slow as he listened to the sounds emanating from behind the door.
The rustle of the bed sheets reached him a moment before a soft gasp tore through his heart. He could imagine her standing on shaky legs and aching feet as she wiggled out of her pajama bottoms. A creak of wood met his ears and he knew she’d crawled back into bed. The sheets rustled again, probably as she pulled them across her body, now half-clothed, and the distinct click of the lamp being turned off echoed through the room.
Standing outside her door and listening to her breathe would surely drive him crazy. Pushing away from the door, he took a few steps and was embraced by the familiar surroundings of his own room. But something was different. The scent of vanilla, lavender, and mint that seemed to surround Gillian remained. He’d never get any sleep.
Accepting his fate, Ronan flopped onto his bed, throwing on arm over his eyes. It was going to be a long night indeed. Her fragrance wrapped around his body, skimming and flowing through his pores where he lay. His cock, half hard from Gillian’s kiss, slowly filled with blood until it strained against his boxers. Sitting up, Ronan peeled off his t-shirt before lying down again. Damn, it was hot in his room.
Closing his eyes, he imagined Gillian lying in bed with him. Not the Gillian across the hall, but a Gillian who had a soul filled with trust. A woman whose skin wasn’t marred with bruises caused by a man and fear didn’t lurk in her eyes. His mate was a beautiful woman, but she’d be breathtaking when she could be in a room with all three of them and not spend every moment searching for an escape route. The “door”, Kyle, would be in a world of hurt if he ever came to their home.
The open, trusting Gillian in his imagination would snuggle against his body, lining up every one of her curves against him. From the brief glimpses he’d had of her body and the few times he held her, Ronan knew her body was plump and curvaceous, just the way the Bearclaw men liked their women. With her pressed against him, one hand would bury in her golden, bouncing curls while the other would stroke her body from shoulder to hip, savoring the silken smoothness beneath his work roughened hands.
She’d sigh against his chest, enjoying the soft touches. Ronan would be gentle, oh so gentle, with his Gilly. She deserved to be caressed and that’s what she’d get. Her hands would sift through the hair on his chest and find his nipple, rubbing, stroking, and pinching the tiny nubbin.
Ronan mimicked the actions of his imaginary Gillian, touching his body as he imagined she would. His fingers found their mark and he pinched, shivering as the sensation peaked and slithered away. His hand released the tiny protrusion of flesh, hardened from his touch, and snaked his hand south. With light touches, he imagined Gillian tempting and teasing him by stroking his abdomen, to his hip, and then thighs before repeating the caress. He did the same, driving his need higher.
Refusing to break free of his fantasy, Ronan continued. Stroking, touching, feeling, his muscles tensed beneath his fingers before relaxing as his hand inched closer to its goal. So much closer. After a few more teasing touches, his fingertips sifted through the cropped curls surrounding his erection and stroked the base of his shaft.
Hard as a rock, his thumb and forefinger encircled his hardness and squeezed, relishing in the first touch of his sensitive skin. Dragging his hand up his erection, his fingers picked up the silken drop of pre-come and rubbed it on the tip. Gasping at the sensation, he encircled his shaft once again and using his pre-come as a lubricant, began stroking his cock again. He imagined it was Gillian’s hand loving his body, and the speed of stroke increased. Up, down, up, squeeze. Over and over he moved his hand on his body. Gilly would be so sweet, so perfect at loving him.
Hips moving in conjunction with his hand, he continued the gentle tugging and stroking of his erection while his other hand moved to cup his balls. Imagining it was Gillian’s mouth tonguing him, he rolled the sensitive sack in his hand, alternating between tugging and squeezing. The combination of the fantasy and self-loving was pulling him closer to the edge. Any moment now he’d come with thoughts of Gillian dominating his mind.
At one point, Ronan brought his feet closer to his body, knees bent. He began thrusting into his hand, pretending it was Gillian’s plump mouth encircling his cock, sucking him dry. Her tongue would swirl and stroke the large vein of his shaft. Flicking the spot just below his cock’s crown would drive him mad with want.
Ronan’s orgasm built, shimmering beneath his skin as it ran along his nerves and centered in his lower back. It pushed and rushed against the confines of his body, begging to be released. He increased his movements. Tightening his hand on his shaft, he thrust harder, pulled and tugged on his balls, squeezing them almost to the point of pain. Sweat poured from his brow, his body cried for release.
His movements continued. On and on they went as he reached for his release. His mind dove back into his fantasy of Gillian giving him pleasure. She’d suck and moan around his shaft, tempting and cajoling his come from its haven. Spirits, how he wanted to give it to her.
Closing his eyes, he imagined looking down at Gillian, her mouth stretched around his erection, love shining from her eyes as she sucked him and then he jumped. His body arched, muscles tensing as his seed burst from the tip of his cock. The tension that had built in his balls released in a rush. It felt as if his insides were bursting through his cock, tensing, releasing in time with his heartbeat.
Seconds later, his back still arched, cock still half-hard, he eased his body back to the bed. His breath still came in harsh pants as his mind returned to the present. His imaginary Gillian, the woman that gave so willingly with trust shining from her eyes, whispered out of his mind, and he felt an ache in his heart at the loss. But she would return to him again. He only hoped that next time she wouldn’t be imaginary. She would be the woman across the hall, loving his body like no other woman could or ever would.
Grabbing his discarded t-shirt, Ronan wiped the cooling come off of his hand and abdomen. Throwing it on the ground next to the bed, he rolled over, dragging the sheets with him and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Raised, angry voices pulled Gillian from her sweet slumber. Opening her eyes, she was assaulted by the bright sunlight streaming through the window.
Damn, it must be late.
Raising her arms above her head, she stretched and groaned as her muscles, joints and bruises ached in protest. Just about every part of her body hurt. But, at least they weren’t new hurts, right? Sure, she
’d gone to bed sore and tired, but not with any new cuts or bruises of someone else’s making.
The voices of the Bearclaw brothers drew her attention.
“No, you’re not.” Ronan.
“Yes, I am.” Conner, maybe?
“Guys, now, calm down.” Definitely Max.
But what were they arguing about?
“You’re not going in there until she’s up and dressed.”
“What makes you think she’s not? Did you take advantage of her last night? You did, didn’t you?”
But Ronan hadn’t. He’d been surprisingly sweet and gentle and gave her a kiss that curled her toes. He’d even left when she asked him to without putting up a fight or forcing himself on her. She’d seen and felt the erection he was sporting, but he didn’t pressure her to do anything about it. Who was Conner to accuse him of something like that?
“Conner, Ronan hasn’t done anything beyond asking you to give Gilly her privacy, right, Ronan? You’re not insinuating…?”
“No, don’t stick-up for me, Max, Conner thinks I’m the type of man to take advantage, maybe I did.”
He did not!
She snatched up her discarded pajama bottoms from the ground and tugged them on, tightening them as much as she could, and prayed they stayed on her hips. They were at least eight inches too long, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. Shuffling across the room, she reached the door just as the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh reached her ears.
Her heart stopped for a moment, pausing between beats as her mind filtered the knowledge that three very large men, two of whom were hitting each other, stood on the other side of the wooden door. Should she open it and clear the air, or lock it tight against their intrusion and escape through the window?
Blood thundered through her body and all she could hear now was the rapid beating of her heart as her body infused with adrenaline. Her hand gripped the knob, knuckles whitening from the pressure of her hold. Her breath came fast and hard, as her thoughts warred with her body. The men had shown her nothing but kindness, yet they were fighting, getting physical over entering her room. No! Her mind screamed while the other half yelled at her to open the door, end the torment.