WREN’S POV
Ronan stood from the bed, his movements smooth and commanding, even after leaving me in a trembling, boneless heap. My body still hummed with the aftermath of his touch, every nerve alight. I stared at him through hooded eyes, my breathing unsteady as he adjusted his c**k with deliberate ease, his broad back to me as he buckled his belt.
The frown that crept onto my face was unbidden. That was it? No more? My gaze dropped to the obvious bulge straining against his pants. Surely he wasn’t going to leave things unfinished. I expected him to at least demand more to take my mouth or my body entirely but instead, he strode toward the bathroom without so much as a backward glance.
What does this mean? He won’t f**k me? He won’t make me blow him? Is that it for the night or what?
