Chapter 3
JANE
This can’t possibly be real, but I don’t want it to stop.
I’m kissing Roman Kingsley.
Or more like, he’s kissing me.
This may be an alternate universe where I imagined the glint of heat and craving in his furtive gaze. Those mesmerizing eyes of his—a deep mahogany framed by thick, coal-black lashes.
Or maybe I’m hallucinating how he kisses the life out of me. How his more-than-day-old stubble, not quite a beard, gratifyingly abrades my face.
Or who knows, this entire evening could all just be one fantastical dream.
He’s one of the hottest Hollywood celebrities and my teenage crush, though I never did outgrow my affection for him. For adult me, he’s my hall pass—a stupid notion that Monty brought into our relationship.
One night, many moons ago in the bed of his pickup truck, Monty told me Jenna Ortega was his dream girl. If ever he had the chance to sleep with her, he’d take it. She was his hall pass, the “freebie” that wouldn’t hurt our monogamous relationship.
At the time, I was shocked and a little upset, even if it was extremely unlikely that it would ever happen. We’d just had sex, and he was talking about sleeping with another woman, celebrity or not.
God, I was such a fool. Even back then he showed me who he really was. But I buried any misgivings and played along, something I became a pro at although I’m only now realizing that.
I even flirted and laughed with him that night, and come to think of it, he never asked me who my hall pass was. I doubt he cared, yet I was quick to offer it up, wanting him to know there was someone I’d definitely jump at the chance to be with, even if it was only a dream.
Monty was my first. The only guy I’d ever slept with, made out with, kissed.
Until now.
Roman pulls back. “Hey, is this okay?”
I nod, not wanting to talk, and lean in for another kiss, but he stops me. Looking into his eyes, though dark and stormy, is a lot like looking into the sun. Arresting and unforgettable.
“Are you sure?” His thumb sweeps across the crest of my cheek, and every time he does it I shiver. “Where’d you go?”
“What?” Shit, I’d gotten lost in my head, reminded of the silly conversation about hall passes, and Roman must have sensed it. “Nowhere. I can hardly believe you’re kissing me. You’re a famous actor, and I’m—”
“You’re sexy as fuck.” His lips press against my forehead.
While it’s sweet and comforting, I sense the embers of his desire waning, threatening to die out. I’ve messed this up. I can tell by how he slides backward, putting distance between us.
“Hey, I should let you get some sleep. You’ve been through a lot and…”
The way his words trail off make my lungs constrict like someone’s dropped a Mack truck on my chest.
“Roman, what are we doing?” I sound like a child, clueless as to where this could lead.
But his gaze is warm and kind as the corners of his lips tip upward into a soft smile. “Whatever you want, Jane. We can stop right here or keep going. I’ll only do whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Never have I been in a situation like this. I’m on the verge of the unthinkable. A one-night stand. If someone would’ve told me I’d find myself here, I’d have vehemently insisted that nothing would happen.
I’d never pursue this man. That isn’t who I am. Still, Roman isn’t just any man.
There is no chance of a future with him or, better yet, of getting my heart broken. I know what this is. My eyes are wide open. This would be just sex and nothing more.
And the idea of letting tonight slip away without grabbing this chance pricks at my chest. I was a colossal fool, blind and witless about Monty, and sure, there are a litany of reasons or excuses, depending on how you look at it, as to why I turned a blind eye.
But tonight is different. I won’t make another critical misstep. And that realization is all I need to fuel my courage. I will not let this opportunity to be with Roman Kingsley pass me by.
No. Fucking. Way.
“I want you.”
Raw and anxious, I open my body and mind to the possibilities of tonight. To whatever is to come. My skin’s too tight, and adrenaline punches at my insides, looking for a way out.
But I’m not stopping now.
The worst he can say is no.
I can do this.
“Roman, if you want me…please don’t stop.”
“Jane, you fucking slay me. Of course I want you. Let me erase everything else that’s happened tonight. Make us your only memory.” His lips capture mine, and he kisses me again.
This time with no finesse or foreplay, there’s only dominance in the way his tongue takes, possessively stroking and playing with mine. It’s as if he’s making sure I’m fully present, feeling every bit of him without giving me a chance to let my mind wander.
He tastes of cinnamon—I’m guessing it’s his toothpaste—with a hint of musky spice. His mouth slips from mine to trail open-mouthed kisses down to where my neck meets my collarbone.
Butterfly wings batter at my insides, and heat flares along my spine. A moan spills from my parted lips when one of his hands pinches at my hardened nipple through my dress.
“Bedroom.” The one word is hot and muffled against my flesh as he pushes to standing.
Since my dress is short and form-fitting, it rides up and bunches at my waist and I wrap my legs around him, sliding down to settle around his narrow hips. My arms slide around his neck and I feel just how big and hard his desire is for me.
He pulls me tighter against his arousal. The pure bliss of being this close to him slices through me like a hot knife through butter.
He strides down the dark hallway, lips still on my skin, and my hips twist and squirm at the burning friction mounting low in my core. His calloused fingers dig into my ass. Since I’m wearing a thong, we’re more flesh on flesh than anything else, and I wonder if he feels how wet I am for him.
“Jane, hold on.” His guttural command sends a shiver of delight through me, and his grip tightens, holding me against his erection as we enter the bedroom.
He slides back a curtain, and the city lights stream into the room before he drops me onto the mattress. His hand pulls at the bodice of my dress, and one breast springs free the second the fabric rips.
“Jesus Christ, Jane.” Head dipping low, he draws a nipple into his mouth, and I shudder and whimper as his wet, hot tongue and sharp, greedy teeth nip and suck at me.
My fingers dive into the waves of hair on the top of his head. “God, Roman.”
He chuckles against my breast and looks up at me. “I like it when you say my name, especially when you call me a deity.”
I snort and guide his head back to my breast where he plants a wet kiss.
“I’m gonna fuck you hard. So hard you’ll only know my name.”
His lips press to mine and as much as I want what he promises as his head bobs against me and his tongue licks at my bottom lip, a hint of uncertainty ripples through me.
“I, uh, I’ve only ever been with one person.” He stiffens like I’ve struck him, and I inwardly wince at my blunder. “I don’t want you to stop. I still want this; I only wanted you to know.”
“Are you sure?” Hovering above me, he scrutinizes my features, and though it’s plain to see he’s contemplating something—maybe even having second thoughts, I can’t be sure—his expression is unreadable.
“Jane, you know what this is, right?” He drops onto the bed beside me, and I roll to face him, ignoring the sting at the corner of my eyes.
If I have messed this up by opening my big mouth, I’ll bite my tongue.
I force the words past the lump that’s formed in my throat. “Yes. I do.”
He tucks some of my hair behind my ear, staring at me, his eyes dark and hooded. “What we’re doing is only for this weekend. Fun.”
His words cause a sharp sensation, knife-like, to twist my stomach, and it shouldn’t.
This is a fling. I suspect any misgivings or regret on my part is more about Monty.
Since the hotel staff left the room, I’ve felt more respected and cared for by this man than I did during all the years with the man I planned to spend the rest of my life with.
“Fun. Yes.” I straddle him and smile. “And I’m going to hold you to that.”
When his gaze drops to my bare breasts, his apprehension shifts to a dark, unleashed hunger quicker than the flick of a light switch. He grips my waist and flips me onto my back while ordering me to remove my dress.
I do as he commands, fingers fumbling for the side zipper while he yanks my thong from my body, spreads my legs wide apart, and drops to his knees at the end of the bed.
His hands curl around my calves and he yanks me down until the lower half of my body hangs from the edge of the mattress. He places both my feet on his shoulders.
Holy hell.
Roman watches me for a few beats, stormy dark eyes locked with mine, and my legs quiver in anticipation.
Monty never went down on me, claiming it wasn’t his thing, and though logically I knew it had nothing to do with me, I couldn’t help but wonder.
None of that matters now.
All self-doubt vanishes at the way Roman stares at me and then my exposed pussy. It’s like he’s starving for me, and I'm the only taste he craves.
I stare down at him, this gorgeous heartthrob of a man, as his thumb strokes the bundle of nerves above my entrance. A whimper surges from deep within as he pushes a finger inside me.
“Fuck, Jane. You’re so wet. So fucking tight.” His finger pumps in and out a few more times before he adds another, and at first, it’s almost a painful stretch. His long, thick digits strain against me.
“Roman…” His name releases on a sob, and he stops moving.
“Relax,” he says, a quiet and gentle command.
My head flops back onto the bed, still sensing the solid pressure of his fingers until he sharply removes them. Then his mouth latches on to my sex and I gasp, eyes blinking rapidly.
Oh, my God. It’s Roman’s lips on me.