Chapter 13 Addison #2
Roman Reeves is unsure of himself. Or maybe not himself—I have a hard time believing Roman is anything but secure in who he is—but he seems to be unsure how I will view him.
Well, damn. Just when I’d gotten comfortable on the bumpy dirt road, he’s gone and yanked me into a weed-tangled field with no path whatsoever.
I don’t know how to navigate this, or if it’s even possible, so I toss out the map, take a step toward my reluctant driver, and decide to go wherever he leads me.
“I’ve never been a big fan of normal.” I step fully into him and run my hands up the front of his shirt. “Show me what it means to be not normal, Roman.”
He catches my wrists, but doesn’t pull me away from him. “It’s more than you’re bargaining for, Addie, believe me.”
“You know, you have a terrible habit of making decisions for me, and it’s really starting to piss me off. Why don’t you stop being so damn vague, man up, and tell me what it is you think I’ll have such a strong aversion to, so I can prove you wrong.”
He spins us in a quarter turn to place the table behind me, then releases my wrists to cage me in with his hands on either side of my hips.
Leaning into me, he speaks directly in my ear, his voice deep and deliberate.
“I like control, Addison. I like controlling my lover’s pleasure.
Her every desire is fulfilled by me or at my command. ”
Shivers race over me as I imagine Roman fulfilling my every desire. “Your command. You want to watch me touch myself?”
“No,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze, his lips now a breath away from mine. “I want to watch another man touch you.”
The air in my lungs gets trapped. “Another man,” I manage to rasp out.
“That’s right. I get off on watching another man touch what’s mine, on telling him exactly how to touch her, how to make her come until she’s trembling.”
“Why not just do it yourself?”
“I am doing it myself,” he says as he runs a hand up the outside of my thigh.
“Because I’m the one in control, his body is merely an extension of mine.
It’s my will that’s being done. It might be his hands, his mouth, even his cock…
” He dips his head, and I tilt mine to the side to give him better access to my neck.
A sigh shudders between my lips as his nose grazes the sensitive skin beneath my ear.
“But it’s my touch, because they’re my words. ”
My fingers are clutching his shirt at his lower back like he’s my lifeline.
I know if I let go, I’ll fall. Further under his spell, further into the oblivion of pleasure he’s promising with his taboo whispers.
So I’m holding on, keeping myself grounded in the moment with the feeling of starched cotton pressed into my palms.
But there’s a voice in my head urging me to let go, and a big part of me—more than I’m willing to admit in this moment—that desperately wants to.
I want to fall with this man who’s dominated my fantasies for months.
Why not let him dominate me for real, like I’ve imagined at night with my eyes closed and my hand between my legs?
All I have to do is be brave enough to trust that he’ll be there to catch me… and let go.
“How does it work?”
He stops moving then pulls back to look me in the eyes. “How does what work?”
Infusing steel I don’t quite feel into my voice, I say, “Sex between you, me, and an as yet unknown male party. I want to try it.”
My heart beats loud and hard in my chest as he stares at me, taking my measure, as though trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth.
His expression is one of doubt with a hint of hope, and I know he’s seconds away from dismissing my statement.
But I’m done with letting him push this thing between us away.
Done with letting him decide what I want.
Because what I want is him, and if I have to argue my case and fight to get him, I will.
Slipping my hands from his back, I frame his face. He swallows hard again. “Addie—”
“No, Roman,” I whisper as I shake my head. “Don’t deny me anymore. Don’t deny us. You’ve told me what you want, and I’m saying yes. You’re out of excuses.”
He surprises the hell out of me when he palms the back of my neck and pulls me in for a fierce kiss.
It’s frenzied and quick, but I can taste his frustration.
“But you’re not just anyone, goddamn it.
If we try it and things go…” His brow furrows as he searches for the right word.
“Badly,” he finally decides on, “then I’ve potentially ruined our friendship and made your workplace an uncomfortable environment. I can’t do that to you.”
My heart melts at how sincerely he’s concerned for me.
Roman might be a shrewd attorney and a badass stripper, but at his core, he’s a very caring and loyal friend.
If I’d had any reservations about pursuing some kind of relationship with Roman—whether purely sexual or something more—I don’t have them now. More than ever, I want this.
“Your concerns have been duly noted, counselor,” I tell him.
“But you’re not the only one responsible here.
You can’t take on the weight of my consequences, too.
You have your own to worry about.” Threading my fingers in his hair, I brush my lips over his.
“I want you, Roman. I want whatever this is.”
“No expectations.” He makes it sound like a statement, but the question is in his eyes.
“None,” I reassure him. “I’m yours to command.”
I see the very moment he decides to go through with this thrilling, albeit somewhat risky, exploration.
His usual confidence returns, and I nearly sigh with relief.
“Then get ready, Ms. Paige,” he warns, and this time when he uses the formal version of my name it makes my insides flutter wildly.
“Because I’m about to get a lot more bossy. ”