I shot to my feet and strode down the hall, determination urging me on. When I stepped into Ronan’s room, I stopped short. My mouth went dry at the sight: smooth, inked muscle beneath black sheets. He slept like a human man—lying on his stomach with one arm under the pillow. For a moment, I second-guessed myself. He looked larger than life with so much skin visible. The sheets were down by his calves as if he’d gotten too hot and kicked them off, leaving the length of his toned back and black boxer briefs on display. All hesitation stalled at the desire to see the ink he hid behind Versace. I moved closer until I stood beside the king-size bed. His face was turned from me, his breaths steady. The entirety of his back was covered with tattoos, from Russian letters spread across his shoulder blades, to a tiger, and a devil with wings and horns. It was strange to see this man at his most vulnerable. Did he dream? And if he did, was it filled with blood and murder? We might not see each other ever again shortly, but a part of me hoped I’d leave him to dream of yellow. Subconsciously, I reached out to touch the ink—though before I could, I was thrown onto my back on the bed, the coldness of a gun pressed against my temple. My chest heaved, my gaze on Ronan straddling my hips. He took me in for a second, almost as if he was confused. I found another weakness. He was weak right when he woke. “Fuck, Mila,” he growled and then threw his gun across the room, where it hit the wall and fell to the floor. “I could have fucking killed you.” As the shock died, I became aware of all the heat pressed against me; of his legs straddling my hips; of his shirtless torso decorated with more ink. My eyes slid down his body. I had no idea why he hadn’t taken his clothes off sooner if he was trying to sleep with me. I’d like to say I was strong enough to resist temptation in all its forms, but . . . just seeing him in a pair of boxer briefs made me want to rock my hips against him and slide my hands from his pecs to his abs. I pulled my lip between my teeth and dragged my eyes back up to his. The confusion melted from his gaze when he saw my expression, morphing into a heat that smoldered. One hand braced beside my head, he ran the other across his face before dropping it and saying harshly, “I get enough easy pussy. I’m not in the mood for more.”