Ronan keeps staring at me for another second after the word leaves his mouth.
Ghost.
The syllable hangs between us like smoke. Dangerous. Haunting.
Then, like he regrets saying even that much, he pushes away from the window.
“That’s enough for now.”
I open my mouth, another question already forming, but he levels me with a look that kills the words before they can escape.
Not angry.
Worse.
Final.
Ronan crosses the room slowly, the low light catching against the sharp lines of his face. He stops just close enough that the heat rolling off him brushes against my skin. Up close, that familiar scent of cedar, smoke, and expensive cologne wraps around me dark, masculine, entirely too distracting.
“You’re exhausted,” he says. “You should unpack. Get some sleep.”
I fold my arms tighter
