Chapter Twenty - Her Move, His Undoing
1422 Words
The soft click of the office door closing behind her sounded louder than Evelyn expected.
The room smelled like leather, cedar, and him. Dim light from the desk lamp cast warm shadows across Ronan’s shoulders as he leaned over a stack of reports, sleeves rolled to the elbows, forearms taut from hours of work.
He didn’t look up at first. “Give me one second, Maddox—”
“It’s not Maddox.”
His head snapped up.
And then he froze.
Evelyn stood just inside the door, her hands loosely clasped in front of her, heart hammering beneath the soft, fitted tank she’d picked without overthinking. She hadn’t come to seduce him. Not exactly.
She’d come to feel close again.
To close the distance they both kept testing.
Ronan straightened slowly, his eyes searching hers.
“Everything okay?” he asked, voice low, already laced with restraint.
Evelyn nodded. “I just wanted to see you.”
A pause.
Then his voice, quieter. “You sure?”
She stepped closer. “Yes.”
Another step.
Now she was at the edge of his desk, eyes never leaving his.
“You’ve been on my mind,” she whispered. “Since last night. Since your hands were on me.”
Ronan’s breath hitched, his knuckles tightening on the desk.
“And I haven’t stopped thinking about what it felt like,” she added. “What it did to me.”
His jaw clenched. “Evelyn…”
She rounded the desk slowly, her fingertips brushing the edge until she reached him. Her hands slid to his chest, palm flat over his heart. “I want to feel that again.”
He looked at her like he might lose control right then and there. But he didn’t move. Not until she leaned up, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was slow and intentional.
This wasn’t her asking for permission.
This was her giving it.
And he felt it.
Ronan's hands came up, gripping her waist—tight, controlled—but he let her lead.
The kiss deepened, breathless and warm. Her fingers threaded into his hair as she pressed her body closer to his. His lips parted for hers, and a low sound vibrated from his chest when she pushed just a little more.
“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I know,” she whispered. “So are you.”
When she rolled her hips slightly against him, testing the friction between their bodies, his control snapped—just enough.
His hands slid lower, to the curve of her backside, anchoring her against him with a groan that sent heat rushing through her limbs.
But still, he didn’t rush.
He touched her like she was gold.
And Evelyn?
She was no longer afraid of burning.
When they finally slowed, breath tangled and lips swollen, he pressed his forehead to hers.
“I’m not sure how long I can keep stopping,” he confessed hoarsely.
Evelyn looked up at him, cheeks flushed. “Then maybe don’t stop next time.”
Ronan’s hand curled tighter at her hip.
He exhaled sharply, lips brushing her temple.
“Next time,” he promised, “I won’t.”
The door closed softly behind her.
Ronan didn’t move.
He stood where she’d left him—hands braced on the edge of his desk, heart still pounding like it had forgotten how to slow down.
The taste of her lingered on his mouth.
The feel of her weight, her warmth, her kiss—her want—was still etched into his skin.
And he was wrecked.
Not because she’d touched him.
But because of what it meant.
He sank slowly into his chair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His breathing was uneven, like he’d just come back from something he shouldn’t have survived.
He’d known it from the beginning. That she was different. That she wasn’t just another woman drawn to the thrill of power or the edge of danger.
She didn’t come to him for protection.
She came to him in trust.
And that hit him in the gut harder than anything else.
Because this wasn’t just lust.
It hadn’t been for a while now.
She’d walked into his life fragile, cautious, quiet—and somehow in the weeks since, she’d taken root under his skin like she belonged there. Her presence had become a rhythm in his world. Her laughter, rare and soft, had become something he listened for.
And now she was touching him like she wanted him.
Not just physically.
But all of him.
And that terrified the hell out of him.
Because Ronan didn’t do messy emotions. He didn’t fall. He’d always been the protector, the man with a plan, the one who never let his heart get too close to the line.
Until her.
Until tonight.
He dragged a hand down his face and stared at the desk like it might offer answers.
She deserved more than just a man who wanted to touch her.
She deserved someone who could hold her.
Guide her. Teach her. Love her.
He clenched his jaw.
Was that what this was turning into?
Was he falling for the daughter of the man he hated most?
Was he ready for that kind of fire—and everything it would burn through?
He didn’t have the answers. Not yet.
But one thing was clear as the pounding in his chest:
This wasn’t just about control anymore.
It was about her.
And if he wasn’t careful, Ronan knew he’d give her everything—his loyalty, his body, and worst of all…
His heart.
The door creaked open without a knock—because Maddox never needed one.
Ronan didn’t lift his head. Still sitting forward in his chair, forearms on his knees, staring at the floor like it might tell him how to breathe again.
Maddox stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “So… she kissed you again.”
Ronan exhaled through his nose, slow and tired. “Yeah.”
Maddox studied him. “And?”
“And I can’t stop thinking about her,” Ronan said, finally looking up. “Not just about how she feels when she’s pressed against me, or how sweet her mouth tastes. I’m thinking about her in ways I shouldn’t.”
Maddox raised a brow. “What ways?”
“Ways that go deeper than just the bed.” Ronan scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think about her laugh. The way she always makes her tea the same way. The way she’s trying so hard to find her place here, and how she’s stronger than she knows.”
Maddox said nothing.
Ronan’s voice dropped lower. “I want to protect her. Not because she’s fragile, but because she matters. Because she’s herself. And I’ve never felt that before.”
A beat of silence.
Then Maddox pushed off the wall and walked over to the desk. He didn’t sit. Just looked down at his president—his brother in every way that counted.
“And why the hell shouldn’t you feel that?”
Ronan looked at him sharply.
“All this other s**t—Reed, the clubs, the war? Yeah, it’s real. But you thinking that means you have to keep her at arm’s length? That’s what’s gonna f**k you up, not her.”
Ronan’s voice was hoarse. “She’s Reed’s daughter, Maddox.”
“She’s Evelyn. And you know it. She’s not her last name. She’s not the war. And if you think holding back is protecting her, you’re wrong.” Maddox leaned in, eyes locked. “You want her. She wants you. And for once, this place—you—could give her the kind of life no one ever did.”
Ronan said nothing.
“You asked me once what it means to love someone in this life,” Maddox added. “It means knowing the risk. And taking the hit anyway.”
Ronan stared at him.
Maddox clapped a hand on his shoulder. “So go after her, brother. All the other s**t? Doesn’t matter.”
Then, with a final look, he turned and left the room.
And Ronan sat there—heart still raw, but eyes clearer.
For the first time, he wasn’t afraid of how deep it was getting.
He was afraid of what he’d lose if he didn’t dive in.
- Writer
