#Chapter129
There was an art to losing yourself, and as Ronan curled into the strong chest of his man, his head perched on his shoulder and an ice cold bottle of water clutched to his chest, he felt well and truly lost. In the best of ways. In the most soul-settling of ways. In the kind of way that had his toes curling and a deep rumble of appreciation bubbling from his chest every time the big guy massaged his nails against his scalp or rubbed at his back.
/"You're so pretty, burrrdiee,/" Ronan slurred softly, his hand reaching up to stroke his big baby's cutie pie's face. /"Soooo pretty. I love looking at you. You're like an orgasm, but for my eyes, you know?/"
Rich and husky, disturbing the quiet hum of the office, the laugh that followed filled him like a warm beverage. /"Oh, bambino, I fucking love you, do you know that?/"
