Mafia Kings: Ronan

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“Is there something I can help you find, love?” His rich, smoky, slightly accented voice made it hard for me to concentrate. “I…uh. I…I was w-wondering w-where the c-coffee maker was.” Was that my voice? Since when did I sound like a sultry s*x kitten? I slowly looked up. I was met with his intense baby blues and once again my body, the treasonous b*tch, reacted to him. It took all I had to swallow and don’t think I missed for one second the way his eyes followed my natural body function. This man was s*x incarnate and if I was being forced to cohabitate with him I was going to have to be extra careful. “I don’t drink that sh*t.” His mouth pulled to the side in his trademark smirk. “Then what’s in that?” I point to his mug. “It’s tea.” He said, trying not to smile. “Close your mouth, love. Unless you want me to put something in it?” He whispered in my ear.