Gone With The Wind

Liora's POV

He took me again and again, through the long, hazy stretch of the night, until the line between pain and pleasure blurred into something I couldn’t name. Every time I thought I’d reached my limit, muscles trembling, breath ragged, body slick with sweat, he slowed down just enough to pull me back from the edge, only to push me over it again.

His hands were everywhere, bruising my hips, tangling in my hair, pinning my wrists above my head while he drove into me with a rhythm that felt both punishing and reverent. I lost count of how many times I came undone beneath him, how many times his name tore from my throat like a prayer.

By the last round, I was shaking, oversensitive, every thrust sending sharp sparks of too-much through me. My thighs burned, my core ached, but I still arched into him, greedy for the way he filled me, claimed me. When he finally spilled inside me one final time, a low, broken groan rumbling from his chest, I collapsed against the sheets, boneless and wrecked

He didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he stayed buried deep, breathing hard against my neck, his weight a solid, grounding anchor. After a long minute, he eased out slowly, careful, like he knew exactly how tender I was. I whimpered at the loss, but he shushed me with a soft kiss to my temple.

Then he surprised me

He slid off the bed, disappeared into the attached bathroom for a moment, and returned with a warm, damp washcloth. Without a word, he knelt between my legs and cleaned me up, gentle swipes over my thighs, between them, wiping away the evidence of us with a tenderness that felt almost obscene after everything we’d just done.

His touch was careful, reverent. When he finished, he tossed the cloth aside and climbed back into bed, pulling me into his arms.

I curled against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart. Rumors had always swirled about Ronan Vale, dark, violent things, that he could kill a man without blinking, that he’d done worse, that he was dangerous in ways no one wanted to test.

But this man, the one cradling me like I was something fragile and precious, the one pressing soft kisses to my hairline while his fingers traced lazy circles on my back, he didn’t feel like a monster. He felt like safety.

I must have dozed for a while, because when I stirred again, the room was quieter. The party downstairs had faded to a distant hum. Moonlight still sliced through the blinds, painting silver stripes across his chest.

I tilted my head up. “You awake?”

His voice came low, rough from hours of use. “Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Why aren’t you?”

I shifted, wincing at the deep ache between my legs. “Because I’m really sore. And also… that was…” I swallowed, cheeks heating even in the dark. “Mind-blowing.”

He chuckled again, the sound vibrating through me. “Good.”

We fell quiet. I traced the scar on his side with my fingertip, wondering how many stories it held that I’d never hear. The silence stretched, comfortable but heavy

“Ronan?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you… in college?”

A pause. “Yeah.”

I waited for more. When nothing came, I didn’t push. Part of me wanted to ask which one, what he studied, if he’d be around next year. But something in the way he’d answered, short and guarded, told me the question would hit a wall.

Instead, he turned the tables. “You going to college soon?”

I shook my head against his shoulder. “No. I’m going back home. There isn’t really money for that.”

He went still. I felt the subtle tension in his arms

“You could do anything you wanted,” he said quietly. “It’ll work out.”

I lifted my head to look at him. In the dim light, his face was shadowed, but I could see the tightness around his eyes, the way his jaw clenched like he was holding something back

“You seem troubled,” I whispered. “Is something going on?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned down and kissed me, slow and deep, like he was trying to pour whatever was trapped inside him into my mouth. When he pulled back, he kissed me again, softer this time, lingering

“You wouldn’t understand,” he murmured against my lips. “Just sleep, Liora.”

I wanted to argue, wanted to push, but exhaustion won. His arms tightened around me, and I let my eyes drift shut, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Morning came too soon

Gray light filtered through the blinds. The room smelled of sex and sweat and him. I reached out instinctively and found empty sheets.

My eyes snapped open

“Ronan?” there was no answer.

I sat up fast, ignoring the sharp protest from between my legs. The bed was cold on his side. His clothes were gone. No note. No phone number scribbled on the nightstand. Just the rumpled sheets and the faint imprint of his body.

Panic clawed up my throat

He left

He just left

I scrambled out of bed, wincing with every step. My skirt was ruined, hanging in tatters, so I yanked on my top and wrapped the torn fabric around my waist like a makeshift sarong. My hair was a disaster, mascara smudged under my eyes, lips swollen. I looked like I’d been thoroughly ruined.

And I had.

I stumbled down the hallway, past closed doors and the lingering stench of stale beer. The house was quiet now, empty cups and discarded clothes littered the stairs like casualties. I found Lisa’s bedroom on the second floor, the door cracked open.

She was sprawled across her bed in last night’s bikini top and a pair of oversized sweats, hair a tangled halo. She cracked one eye open when I burst in.

“Li? Jesus, girl, where the hell have you been?” She sat up, blinking. “You look like you got hit by a truck. A hot truck.”

I ignored the jab. “Have you seen Ronan?”

She frowned. “Who?”

“Ronan. The senior from school, the super hot one who got expelled last year. Dark hair, tall, dangerous vibe. He was here last night, in one of the guest rooms.”

Lisa stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Babe… there wasn’t any senior like that at our school. And I definitely didn’t invite anyone who got expelled. I would’ve remembered a guy like that.”

My stomach dropped. “What do you mean? He was here. We…” I stopped, cheeks flaming. “He was definitely here. Everyone knew him. The rumors about him killing people, the expulsion… it was all over school.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Okay, hold on.” She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, scrolled through her contacts, then tapped out a quick text to Tyler. A minute later, her phone buzzed.

She read it, then looked up at me, brows furrowed even deeper. “Ty says no. He was outside the whole time, monitoring the door like he always does. He says there was no guy matching that description, no expelled senior, no super hot dangerous guy named Ronan. He would’ve noticed someone like that crashing the party.”

I felt the floor tilt beneath me

“But… he was real,” I whispered. “I talked to him. I felt him. We…” My voice cracked, the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he’d filled me still burning under my skin.

Lisa climbed off the bed and wrapped her arms around me. “Hey. Maybe you got the name wrong, or maybe some random dude crashed, used a fake backstory to sound mysterious. Parties get weird. People lie.”

I shook my head, numb. “No. I know what I felt. What we did. He knew things. He… he took care of me after.”

She pulled back, searching my face with real worry now. “Li… are you okay? Did something bad happen? Like, did he hurt you?”

I couldn’t answer. Because suddenly nothing made sense. How could they not remember?

But I could still taste him on my lips, feel the bruises blooming on my hips, the deep ache he’d left inside me

What the hell was going on

I stared at the empty doorway, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

He’d been here. Inside me even.

So, how could I explain it?