27. Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-seven
Shira
Last night had been a blur. There had been no time to get nervous about sharing my bed with Roman. I’d been too worried about Ben and scurrying around to make things perfect for his stay.
That was twenty-four hours ago, and I’d spent most of it working myself into a lather. It was the weekend. I had no excuse to leave, and for some inexplicable reason, Roman and Ben had hung around my house all day. Ben spent most of it milking his injury and playing with Mary, who was in heaven from all the attention. Roman hovered over his brother and me, cooking all our meals and asking if we were comfortable every few minutes. And I got to witness Roman and Ben’s deep, magical bond.
They seemed to live on the same wavelength and often didn’t bother to finish sentences. Their unabashed love for each other made my chest feel too full and tragically hollow all at once.
Now, Ben was in the guest room with Mary again, Roman was closing up the house, and I was stalling in my en suite bathroom.
With Roman no longer on edge with fear of his twin dying during the night, I couldn’t help thinking back to our conversation in the limo. As I washed my face in preparation for bed, it almost felt like I was back at MHC being escorted to room ten. My toes curled into the bath mat below my feet, and my heart jammed into my throat.
I put on the one nightgown I owned that still fit. A stretchy, black cotton number with spaghetti straps. The lace edge hit midthigh, and my breasts, which had always been big and had just gotten bigger the past few months, threatened to spill out of the bodice.
It might’ve been too obvious, but this was as brave as I got. Roman could take my message and run with it, or he could let me off the hook by pretending he didn’t understand what I was offering.
I really hope he took me. My panties were wet from the anticipation of what might happen, and my sex was swollen and achy.
With a deep breath, I opened the door and slipped into the bedroom. The lights were dim, but I made out Roman’s mountainous frame easily. He was sitting on the side of the bed, his feet planted on the floor, watching me as I made my way across the room.
As I came near, he held his hand out. “Come here, Goldie.”
I let him tug me close until I was standing between his spread legs. With him sitting and me standing, we were face to face.
“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his gaze over me with undisguised appreciation. “All this for me.”
He started at my hips, tracing the shape with his huge hands. Kneading and caressing, his hands moved to my ass, upper thighs, the line of my back, ending at my breasts. There, he took his time, weighing them in his palms, shaping his hands around them. Then he leaned forward and groaned as he buried his face in the valley of my cleavage, his breath hot on my already sizzling flesh.
One hand trailed down to cup me between my legs, and another deep, guttural groan traveled up his throat when he encountered the damp fabric sticking to my lower lips. Nudging it aside, his fingers parted my slit and slid from my beaded clit to my drenched opening.
“So wet, Shira.” He opened his mouth over my nipple, drawing deep while he teased my sensitive flesh below. A quiver traveled up my legs, weakening my knees, so I grabbed onto his shoulders to steady myself. “Yes, baby. I want you to touch me while I make you come.”
Slamming my eyes shut was the only way I could let myself explore him. I ran my hands down his back and gathered his T-shirt in my fists to touch his skin. Warm and smooth, I traced the lines of his lateral muscles. I’d never felt anything like this, the rippling and definition, his breadth, the strength his body housed. All of it under my fingertips, his kisses and caresses grew more fervent.
“Yeah. Like that,” he drawled, his mouth next to my nipple. “Like your hands on me, Shir.”
His mouth suddenly covering mine was a surprise. My lips parted in a gasp, allowing his tongue to plunge inside. I whimpered, leaning into him, and Roman cradled an arm beneath my ass, sweeping me off my feet. I spread my legs to straddle his lap and dug my fingers in his hair.
He positioned me over his bulge and pressed me down on him. Through thin layers of cotton, my clit hit the hard ridge of his cock, and I nearly doubled over from my nerve endings sparking to life. Our lips grazed as I gasped, and he exhaled, giving me the air my body desperately sought.
“Ride it, Shir. I feel you shaking.” He formed those words with kisses to my mouth and chin. “Come on, baby.”
I rocked and rocked, clinging to his neck, my legs spread so wide to accommodate his huge, muscular thighs. He had my hips and backside in his palms, moving me, grinding me down on him. It didn’t take long. In fact, if I hadn’t felt how rock hard he was and couldn’t hear his heavy, needy breaths, I would have been embarrassed by how quickly I fell apart. But Roman was just as desperate. Everything was different now, but we both wanted more of each other—of what we’d had that night in room ten.
Roman shifted, freeing his cock from his sweats. He rubbed his bare flesh against mine, the wide head along my pulsing clit, making light explode behind my eyelids.
“Rome,” I moaned. “That’s…”
“So good,” he filled in. “So damn good. Gonna get better now.”
He lifted me enough to position himself at my entrance. He had complete control of me, moving me where he wanted, slowly impaling me on him. His fingers dug into my hips as he lowered me inch by inch. Once I was fully seated, I was struck by a sharp sense of relief at how perfectly this man filled me.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he echoed. “Oh god, yes, Shira. Ride me. Ride me hard.”
My eyes were closed as tight as they could be, but I felt his gaze all over me. He’d flipped the bodice of my nightie down and had one breast in his hand while the other guided my movements, lifting me up and down by my ass.
This was what I’d been aching for: Roman splitting me apart, squeezing my soft spots, sucking on my hidden, tender areas. Taking everything he wanted, using my pussy for his pleasure, giving me almost too much in return. I was heavy between my thighs and so wet each stroke of his cock made obscene, erotic sounds, turning me on even more.
“On fire for me,” he gritted out. “I feel that, Shir. Love that fire only I get to see. That’s mine, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I panted, not quite sure what I was agreeing to. I was close again. Blood roared in my veins as I rolled my hips over him.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby. Do you know how much I like that?” He held my breast up to his mouth and drew my nipple in deep, suckling hungrily.
My head fell back, mouth opening to sigh my pleasure to the stars circling above my head.
“You make me so hard. These tits, your ass, your hair, the sounds you make…” He arched up as he shoved me down, thrusting so deep I lost my breath. “I can’t last for you. Not with you bouncing in my lap, looking like a ripe peach I want to devour and lap up every last drop of the juices.”
“You have a filthy mouth,” I panted.
“You’re filling my mind with filthy thoughts.” He palmed my crown, drawing my face to his. “Give me your mouth, Shira. Need it right now.”
Then he took it himself, not allowing me a chance to give it to him. With our lips sealed, Roman moved, taking me with him. Flipping us around, I was on my back, my legs locked around his waist, and he was standing, one knee on the mattress.
Holding my hips, he powered into me with purpose. Teeth clamping his bottom lip, he watched my breasts bounce from the force of his thrusts, and I watched him looking at me. His attraction was laid bare and raw. I tried to grasp it, keep it with me, but my mind was a slippery thing. And when his gaze snapped up to burn into mine, I arched my neck and slammed my eyes closed to avoid it.
Reaching down, he rolled my clit with this thumb. “I want to feel you coming around me. Give me that,” he ordered.
I was a sucker for this man. He’d wound me up for the last month, had made me needy for his cock, and had learned the rhythm of my pleasure like it was his own. When he drove deep and touched me, it was done with expert precision. Roman wanted me to ignite for him, and I did. Gasping, panting, my legs pedaling next to his hips, I held my breasts, squeezing them and plucking at my nipples as I fell to pieces.
The shattered groan Roman made would forever be burned in my brain. It was the sound of a powerful man surrendering, accepting his fate. His grip was tight on my hips as he plunged into me a few more times then stilled, our pelvises flush, practically sealed together. Liquid heat coated my clenched channel, my internal muscles working to take everything he had.
Careening forward, he braced his fall with his hands on either side of my head. Hot breath on my lips, his nose sliding along mine, I forced my lids to open, and our eyes collided.
“That what you needed?” he asked.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
His lips touched mine in a quick, firm kiss. “Good, baby. Then we both got it.”
The next part wasn’t my favorite, losing him from inside me and the awkward shuffle to the bathroom to clean up. But what followed made up for it.
Roman lifted the covers for me, and when I climbed into bed, he arranged his body around mine, tucking me against him—right where I’d been longing to be again.
“Was that okay?” he asked.
I laughed. “Okay?”
His chest rumbled through my back. “I’m asking if I hurt you, not if you came. That, I know the answer to.”
I turned my head, which he’d fitted beneath his chin, and rubbed my cheek against his chest. “I feel really good. You didn’t hurt me at all.”
His hands splayed on the curve of my belly, and after a moment, I placed mine on top of his. Two of my fingers made up the width of one of his. I imagined these massive hands had been good for playing rugby. I wished I could have seen him on the field.
“Does your shoulder still hurt?” I asked.
“Hmm? From my injury?”
“Yes. You never mention it.”
“I’ve grown accustomed to living with constant, low-level pain. If I didn’t have to move, I wouldn’t feel it, but—”
“Moving is sort of necessary.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, his palm gliding over my belly. “I had surgery and rehab. It is what it is now. I try not to do anything to exacerbate it, but living with pain is one of the downsides to being a pro athlete in a high-impact sport. I’d known that going in.”
“Why rugby?”
He chuckled. “Why not?”
“Well, football is king in the US. I’m surprised you and Ben didn’t get recruited to play in school.”
“Oh, coaches tried. Ben played a few seasons. Not me, though. I had my eye on the prize, and that was to go pro in rugby.” He dipped his face into my hair, inhaling. “You might’ve noticed this about me, but I’m single-minded in my goals. When I start something, I have no choice but to become the best I can at it. I chose rugby. Therefore, I devoted every waking minute to it.”
“And when you lost it…?”
“I was torn up for a while. That letter you sent me? It helped. Everyone was telling me my life wasn’t over, but that letter…you gave me the room to grieve. Every direction, people were saying, ‘chin up,’ ‘it could be worse,’ but you told me to feel it in full, and I did that. I dealt with the premature end of my goals, and once I’d accepted it, I was able to move on. I miss the game, but it doesn’t hurt to watch Ben play. I can be proud of him without feeling jealous. And I’ve devoted myself to other pursuits.”
“Like GoldMed.”
He hummed again, and the vibration that ran through me was almost as soothing as Mary’s purrs. “Yes. Sometimes my single-mindedness makes me myopic—a fact I’m coming to terms with. Once again, you’ve turned my eye inward, forcing me to examine my thinking and come up with a solution to change it.” His lips pressed against my crown. “I don’t think we’ll be able to save GoldMed, Shira.”
A chill ran through me, not from the inevitable fate of Frank’s company but due to the palpable remorse in Roman’s admission.
“Some things aren’t meant to last forever,” I whispered.
“No, times change. The world keeps moving. Nate and I are working on it, but I suspect the wisest option is to sell off the remaining assets. We’ll have to make a decision soon.”
I twisted my neck so I could look up at him. “I won’t be angry if you decide that’s the best course, Roman. Please don’t worry about me when choosing how to move forward. I know you wanted it to work and did all you could. If this is the end, that’s okay.”
Our son decided to join the conversation, landing several kicks and jabs. Roman sucked in a breath, stilling. I found myself grinning wide as the baby used my belly as his own personal jungle gym, rolling and stretching.
“That’s incredible,” Roman whispered in awe.
“Isn’t it? He’s already amazing.”
His forehead rested on the back of my head, and he stayed like that for a long time, feeling the movement inside my stomach.
“Thank you for allowing me to be close to you like this, to share this with you,” he murmured. “Means the world to me not to miss any of it.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Means the world, Shira,” he repeated, his arms holding me snugly against him.
I was setting myself up to fall. It would hurt like hell when I landed, but my silly brain, whose survival instincts swung back and forth between abject panic and grave acceptance, said, “Meh…if I crash, I crash.” So, I snuggled closer to Roman, deciding to soak up every fleeting second I had in his arms.