17. Cassie
CASSIE
WALLS COMING DOWN
I wake to sunlight on my face and Roman's arm draped possessively across my waist.
For a moment, I savor the sensation—the warmth of his body against mine, the soft sound of his breathing, the knowledge that for once, neither of us is rushing to maintain our careful charade.
A week into our official relationship I'm still adjusting to this new reality where I don't have to pretend I'm not falling for my boss. Don't have to sneak out before dawn or invent excuses for late-night meetings. The freedom is intoxicating—and terrifying.
I shift slightly, trying not to wake him as I study his sleeping face. Roman looks younger like this, the perpetual crease between his brows smoothed away, his mouth relaxed from its usual controlled expression. Vulnerable in a way the CEO of Elysian would never allow himself to appear in public.
"You're staring again," he murmurs without opening his eyes, voice rough with sleep.
"I'm observing," I correct him, tracing the line of his jaw with my finger. "There's a distinction."
"Is there?" His eyes open, startlingly blue against the white of his pillow. "And what exactly are you observing, Ms. Monroe?"
"That the great Roman Kade drools in his sleep." I grin as he reaches up to wipe his mouth self-consciously. "And snores. Just a little."
"I do not snore." He pulls me closer, hand sliding down my spine with deliberate intent. "And this is slander before coffee. Punishable by law."
"What's the sentence?" I ask, my breath catching as his hand finds the curve of my ass and he squeezes possessively, pressing his growing erection to my core.
"I haven't decided yet." His eyes darken with a hunger that sends heat pooling low in my belly. "But it will be lengthy and thoroughly... exhaustive."
He shifts, rolling me beneath him in one fluid movement that speaks to how well we've learned each other's bodies in the past weeks.
His mouth finds mine in a kiss that starts lazy but quickly turns urgent, his hands threading through my hair, tugging lightly, his weight a delicious pressure pinning me to the mattress.
I respond with equal fervor, my body already conditioned to want him with an intensity that would be embarrassing if it weren't so perfectly matched. My hands slide down his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath my fingers as he moves against me.
"Good morning to you too," I gasp when he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my throat.
"Mmm," he agrees, his stubble creating a delicious friction against my sensitive skin. "Though I believe we were discussing your punishment."
"Were we? I was under the impression this was a reward."
His laugh vibrates against my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. "Always so quick with the comebacks."
"You like that about me," I remind him, arching to press more fully against him.
"I like everything about you," he admits, the simple honesty in his voice catching me off guard. "Even the parts that drive me crazy."
"Especially those parts," I tease, trying to lighten the sudden weight of his words.
But Roman isn't having it. He pulls back slightly, his expression serious as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. "Especially those parts," he agrees softly. "The parts no one else gets to see."
The tenderness in his gaze makes something twist in my chest—something dangerously close to the L-word we've both been carefully avoiding. We're too new, too fragile for declarations that heavy.
I redirect, running my hands up his chest to link behind his neck. "Well, right now all my parts would very much like to continue what we started."
Roman sees through my deflection—he always does—but allows it, lowering his mouth to mine again. "As you wish."
What follows is leisurely exploration that only comes with the luxury of a Sunday morning with nowhere to be and nothing to hide.
His mouth claims mine with renewed hunger, tongue teasing and exploring as his hands slide down my sides to my hips.
I arch against him, my naked body pressing into his, feeling him hard and ready against my thigh.
"I want to taste every inch of you," he murmurs against my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, making me shiver.
"I'm not stopping you," I breathe, spreading my legs wider as his hand slides between them.
His fingers find me already wet and waiting, and he groans in appreciation. "So responsive," he says, circling my entrance teasingly before sliding one finger inside, then another. "Always so ready for me."
My head falls back as he works his fingers in a rhythm that makes my toes curl. "More," I demand, rocking against his hand.
"Patience," he admonishes, but I can hear the strain in his voice, the control slipping. "I want to make this last."
His mouth begins a torturously slow journey down my body, pausing to lavish attention on my breasts.
His tongue circles one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
I'm writhing beneath him by the time his mouth moves lower, across my stomach, pausing to nip at my hipbone.
When he finally settles between my thighs, I'm nearly delirious with want. The first touch of his tongue against my clit makes me cry out, hands fisting in the sheets.
He licks a long, deliberate stripe through my folds before focusing on that bundle of nerves, alternating between broad strokes and rapid flicks that have me panting his name.
His fingers resume their rhythm inside me, curling to hit that spot that makes me see stars. The dual sensation overwhelms me—his mouth sucking and licking at my clit while his fingers pump steadily, stretching and filling me.
"Roman," I gasp, my thighs trembling as the pressure builds. "I'm going to?—"
"Let go," he commands against my flesh, the vibration of his voice adding another layer of sensation. "Come for me, Cassie."
My orgasm hits with shattering force, waves of pleasure radiating outward as I buck against his mouth, crying out so loudly I'm grateful for the soundproofed walls of his penthouse. He doesn't relent, working me through the aftershocks, seemingly intent on wringing every last tremor from my body.
Before I've fully recovered, he's moving up my body, positioning himself at my entrance. Our eyes lock as he pushes inside in one fluid thrust that has us both moaning. The feeling of fullness, of absolute connection, steals my breath.
"Fuck," he groans, his forearms braced on either side of my head. "You feel incredible."
I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle to take him deeper, gasping as he hits that perfect spot inside me. "Harder," I urge, digging my heels into his back.
He begins a steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate and deep.
I match his movements, lifting my hips to meet him, our bodies finding that perfect synchronicity that still amazes me every time.
There's something almost transcendent about how perfectly we fit together, how instinctively we respond to each other's needs.
I run my nails down his back, feeling his muscles flex beneath my fingers as he drives into me. The slight sting seems to spur him on, his pace increasing as his control begins to fray.
"Touch yourself," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "I want to watch you come again while I'm inside you."
I slide my hand between our bodies, finding my clit still sensitive from his earlier attention. The additional stimulation combined with the delicious friction of him filling me is almost too much to bear.
"That's it," he encourages, his eyes dark and focused on my face. "Show me what you need."
The intimacy of his gaze combined with the physical sensations pushes me toward the edge again. I can feel him swelling inside me, his rhythm becoming more erratic as his own release approaches.
"Roman," I gasp, feeling the tension building to an almost unbearable peak. "I'm close."
"Come with me," he urges, thrusting harder, deeper, his pelvis grinding against my hand with each movement. "Now, Cassie."
The orgasm crashes through me with devastating intensity, my inner walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure pulse outward. He follows immediately, burying himself deep as he finds his release, his body shuddering against mine as he groans my name like a prayer.
For several moments afterward, we stay locked together, breathing hard, his weight a delicious pressure pinning me to the mattress. When he finally moves to roll off me, I make a small sound of protest, not wanting to lose the connection.
"I'm crushing you," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead as he shifts to his side, drawing me against him.
"I like it," I admit, curling into his warmth, my body still humming with satisfaction.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back as our breathing slows, our heartbeats gradually returning to normal. There's something profoundly intimate about these moments after—more vulnerable, in some ways, than the act itself.
When we finally collapse back against the pillows, satisfyingly exhausted and slick with sweat, the sun has fully risen over the Manhattan skyline visible through Roman's floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Coffee?" Roman offers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before sliding out of bed with that unconscious grace that never fails to captivate me.
"Please," I agree, watching unabashedly as he pulls on a pair of pajama bottoms without bothering with a shirt. The view of his retreating back—all lean muscle and tantalizing dimples just above the waistband—is enough to make me consider skipping caffeine altogether in favor of round two.
But my growling stomach vetoes that plan, reminding me that we worked up quite an appetite last night and again this morning. I steal one of Roman's discarded t-shirts from a nearby chair and pad after him into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of coffee and something more substantial than desire.