The Player and the Pixie(59)

“Have I been too subtle?” He pressed his erection against me again. “Fine. Let me be clear: Lucy Fitzpatrick, lovely Lucy, I want you.”

I let my head hit the wall behind me as I evaded his kiss, needing him to see he was acting crazy. We absolutely could not have sex in the bathroom. If we had sex in the bathroom, Ronan would find out and the shit would hit the fan.

My voice was unsteady as I tried to think and speak at the same time. “I thought things were clear between us. You said Ronan would never find out. But then I arrive at the photo shoot and you start acting up, trying to rile my brother. It’s so stupid and pointless when you both could easily just get along.”

Sean’s tone was disdainful. “Ronan and I will never get along.”

I held him away, wanting to see his face as I challenged, “Why not?”

Now his brow scrunched up and he seemed conflicted. “Because . . .” he started, then paused as though trying to find the right words. “Because everything he wants just falls right into his lap. He never even has to try and people think the sun shines out of his arse. Maybe he deserves a little animosity every once in a while.”

“And you’re the one to provide it, are you?”

Sean released me and, as much as was possible in the confined space, took a step back. “I don’t see why not.”

I frowned. “Everything doesn’t just fall into his lap. He gets things because he works hard for them. And people think highly of him because he’s a good person and treats them with respect. Why do you have such a problem with that?”

Sean raked his hands through his hair in agitation, ruffling the short blond strands. “Because I work just as hard, but nobody ever pats me on the back or tells me how bloody wonderful I am.”

I stared at him, suddenly seeing something I hadn’t before. I tried to gentle my voice. “Hard work is one thing, Sean, but you have to be kind to people, too. You could work your fingers to the bone, but if you go around flipping everybody off while you’re doing it they’re never going to respect you.”

His glare turned into a tired frown and he turned his head to the side as he muttered, “God, what am I even doing here?”

I let out a breath and took his hand, sliding my fingers between his. “You’re having dinner with a bunch of cool people. Why not try enjoying their company?” He grimaced at me and I stopped for a second as an idea formed, adding, “Why not try enjoying my company?”

“I always enjoy your company,” Sean muttered automatically, his eyes softening as they skated over my face.

I swallowed a building lump in my throat and suggested, “How about we go back outside and try something?”

His look was cautious. “Like what?”

“When we rejoin the others, you have to chat with Ronan in a polite and friendly manner and you have to give him at least one compliment.”

Sean stared at me as though I’d turned into a raving lunatic and eventually shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What have you got to lose?”

“My self-respect,” he scoffed.

“Oh, come on. Now you’re just being melodramatic.” I paused and squeezed his hand. “Please? Do it for me, and I promise you’ll feel better for it. Be kind to my brother and watch the difference in how he treats you, how everyone treats you.”

Sean grunted and asked, “What if I don’t know how to be kind?”

“You’re kind to me. And you were kind to those dogs, even Hampton, who basically sexually harassed your leg only seconds after meeting you.”

His eyes flickered between mine and I saw he was fighting a smile. Then his gaze lowered to my lips. “Fine,” he conceded. “But if this turns out to be a disaster it’s on your head, little pixie.”

I smiled at the reluctant affection in his voice. “Everything will be better. I promise you.”

I ignored the small voice that told me making peace between Sean and Ronan wasn’t just for altruistic reasons. If Sean and Ronan didn’t hate each other, then perhaps . . .

His eyes narrowed on me as he continued staring at my mouth. “I want something in return.”

From the way he was looking at my mouth I wouldn’t need three guesses. “A blow job?”

“No. I want you to come over tonight.”

“For a blow job?” I teased.

“No.” His gaze lifted to mine, the earnest intensity made my breath catch. He shook his head slowly. “No expectations. No lessons. Just . . . come over and spend the night. Be with me.” And then he quietly added, almost like an afterthought, “Let me feel your warmth.”