Chapter 11 Hana
HANA
I stepped out of that garage, my heart hammering and my clit throbbing, begging for some relief.
Roman Black was hot with his clothes on, but shirtless…
I’d almost lost my mind. I’d only been such a bitch to him because the alternative involved me dropping to my knees and begging him to let me taste his cum.
Heading back to my car, I mumbled to myself about how ridiculous I’d been, thinking that someone would break into my house to fix something for me.
How stupid could I be? How big was my ego?
I huffed out my annoyance, climbing in and jamming the key into the ignition.
I used the rearview mirror to focus on the garage again, hoping to find Roman there, watching me, but of course, he wasn’t because I’d fabricated something that wasn’t happening.
He was just a man—a hot, god-like man—who happened to be in the right place at the right time. He wasn’t seeking me out or trying to save me. I was making all this up in my overactive imagination. But you’d like someone to take care of you, the voice in my head whispered.
I brought my hand to my throat, letting my head fall back against the headrest as I remembered the feel of his grip. Fuck. Pleasure pulsed through me, soaking my underwear.
I’d spent years dreaming about someone wrapping their hand around my throat and taking what they wanted from me…
degrading me, using me. It was impossible to trust someone to get that far since men didn’t seem to want me, so over the years, I’d left my fantasies in my head and presumed I’d never get to explore them, but Roman—nope, I refused to go there.
I sighed. My head was all over the place, and the needy ache between my thighs and the desire to run back in there and drop to my knees for him was all too much. I needed some space. And some time with my vibrator. It was time to go home.
I turned the key, waiting to hear the engine start up, but there was nothing.
Not now, I begged the universe silently.
I tried again, but it was dead.
Leaning my head against the steering wheel, I banged it slowly as I remembered I’d left my phone on the counter at home.
When I thought it was Roman behind my boiler, I’d turned off the shower, thrown on some clothes, and stormed out of the house.
I didn’t even stop to put a bra on. All I could think about was confronting him.
I weighed up my options: I could go back inside and ask Roman for help, but I’d probably burnt my bridges there, and with no phone, there was only one other thing I could do.
I climbed out of the car, slammed the door and started walking.
And just like the sky wanted to remind me what a shitty evening I was having, thunder rolled in the distance and the heavens opened.