Ronan's expression and his body language should have told her he wasn't taking any of her shit, though his mouth twisted into the slightest bit of a grin. Dapper, of course. Meanwhile, Eva was two pages away from a pictorial teenage Ronan would have had to hide under his mattress. Her Oxford was buttoned just high enough to make Mars want to unfasten it with his teeth.
Her lightening arced. His muscles tensed, programmed to respond like she'd written the code herself, his feet stepped closer. Nearly pressed together, Ronan's hands laid at his sides, but his face maneuvered on either side of hers - animalistic and primal; he breathed her in. His well-experienced lungs held her within him with purpose. Maybe his body understood something his mind still hadn't solved, that somewhere the four-year-old that was God had decided that her Eva and Ronan dolls were destined for each other. Unfortunately, some of her circumstances were simply untenable for Mars.
"I can't, I wouldn't stay away, even if I wanted to." Ronan shared, lips dangerously close to Eva's ear. He was close enough to feel the static charge pull his stubble toward her untamed mane, and it made him crave the friction they created. "I love our time together." Ronan found her eyes, his own cranked up to eleven. "I love..." Pause, lip bite. "But I can't..." He struggled, because he was Jericho and she a chorus of trumpets. Eva watched, Ronan crumbled. "I want you, Eva. All of you, and I can't, no... I refuse to share. So tell me... why did you marry him if you still wanted me?"