Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love)
: Chapter 22

We’re in Ronan’s bed. I’m propped up on the bed with pillows behind me. My fingers play with his hair as his head rests on a pillow on my legs. He strokes my legs, drawing little circles on my inner thigh. The movie reaches the end, and the credits begin to roll.

He turns his head and looks up at me. “Well?”

I smile.

“You hated it?” he says.

I open my mouth, then shut it.

“Tell me!”

I grimace. “The acting is bad, especially from Luke; the lines are cheesy; and the Stormtroopers . . . how on earth do they see out of those costumes? And they can’t kill anything with their weapons. Somehow, the main characters all manage to avoid getting blasted—well, except for poor Obi-Wan. Supposedly it’s set in a galaxy far, far away, but everyone speaks English?”

“Yes,” he growls.

“Hey, boo-boo, I loved it.”

He sits up, the sheets sliding against his bare chest. “Liar.”

I laugh as he pulls me down on the bed and cages me in underneath him.

“How will I punish you?”

“No. I promise. I do! Han Solo is awesome. He kills a lot of people. Chewie is my man. And R2-D2 is my favorite. I love him! May the Force be with you!”

“I don’t believe you.” He tickles me, his fingers dancing around my ribs. I squirm around him, giggling, trying to get to the edge of the bed. He drags me back. “You’re not escaping me.”

I gasp. “I swear!”

He leans over and kisses me slowly. “I’ll forgive you. I’ll let it go. I can live with you not loving it. On one condition.”

“What?”

“That you never change. That you’ll always be happy . . .” He stops, his eyes dark with emotion.

I blink. “Okay.”

He rolls over to his nightstand and opens a drawer, then comes back and places a small box in my hands. His words, when they come, are hesitant. “I got you something in Austin on my last day. I hope you like it. As soon as I saw it, I knew it had to be yours.”

I sit up, smiling at the silver wrapping paper. “And it’s not even my birthday.”

I tear at the paper, tossing it on the floor, then settle the black velvet box in my lap and open the lid. My chest hitches at the gold necklace inside. I lift it up, and there’s a star dangling from the chain, outlined in gems. It’s simple yet elegant, the type of classic jewelry I’d pick out for myself. “Are those real diamonds?”

“Would I give you fake ones?”

“I mean, I’d love it either way. It’s beautiful . . .”

“Here, let me.” He takes the necklace, and I lift my hair so he can slide it around my neck and connect the clasp. He picks up the star and settles it on my chest. His fingers stroke the star, making my skin hum.

“Because you’re a burst of light,” he says softly. “Because you believe in people. Because I can’t look up at the night sky without thinking about you. You’re a star.”

My heart swells with emotion, at the tenderness in his gaze. “Ronan . . . I’m in love with you. I love you.”

The room feels hot, and my thoughts scatter as he inhales a sharp breath.

I see hesitation in his eyes. Loneliness. Fear.

I see a man standing alone on a precipice, needing to take that one step . . .

My lips quirk ruefully as I hold his gaze. For the first time since Andrew, I’m all in with a man, my cards on the table. “Too soon?”

He flounders for words, his eyes searching my face. “Nova . . . I’m on the short list for Stanford. It’s not what I want, but I’m looking into it to make sure. I’m being up front and honest. I don’t know the future.” He licks his lips. “Be patient with me. I don’t want to . . . screw us up. Remember possibilities? That’s what’s happening here, okay? Life is happening, and I don’t know how it will all shake out, but you . . . you make sense.”

I nod jerkily as he pulls me to him, his fingers stroking my back. I wanted him to tell me he loves me too, but . . .

I’m going to be brave and go with us as we are and savor each moment we share. If it flays me alive and cuts me open in the end, then fine, I took a chance, and in the end that’s all a person can do to find happiness.

He kisses the top of my head. “How about a game?”

“Rules?”

“This time you tell me what to do,” he says.

“Okay. Put my thong on, Fancy Pants.” I lean over and grab it from the floor and dangle it in front of him.

“Hell to the no.”

“Cheater. My rules . . .”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I try to keep a straight face but end up laughing, pushing the earlier emotional moment aside. “I’m sorry, but your face . . .” I stop as he tosses me back on the bed and tickles me. I flail around underneath him as he captures my wrists and pins them above my head. His lower body rests on top of mine as we breathe heavily. My head arches up, and I take his mouth in a demanding kiss, and he groans, our lips meshing over and over.

“Jesus . . . you’re . . .” He stops and puts his face in my neck, taking deep breaths.

“What?” I ask.

“Everything a man could ever want. I need you right now. I need to be inside you.”

I press into his hips, and he moans, rotating against me. His length is hard and thick on my leg, his mushroom-shaped crown wet. “Take me like this,” I demand. “And look me in the eyes and tell me you need me.”

“I do, Princess,” he murmurs as he sinks into me slowly, his gaze locked with mine. “I need you, I need you . . .”

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