Chapter 29
AN ITCH
JAHLANI
Jahlani’s mouth dries, and a weak laugh tumbles out. “What?”
Roman leans back, shuffling the cards again before dividing them.
“Take your pants off,” he repeats, sending her a look that makes her body tighten. “And spread your legs for me,” he adds in a low murmur.
Jahlani wets her lips, her body thrumming in anticipation.
She hesitates before she rises to her feet, her gaze locked on his as she hooks her hands into the shorts he gave her and slides them down her thighs.
Folding it neatly, she sets it on the other end of the kitchen table before gliding back into the chair.
The shirt he gave her is oversized, but it’s not big enough to hide her completely when she opens her legs, anchoring both feet behind the chair legs.
She shudders as the cold air meets her center.
“Good enough?” she asks, slightly winded, even though he hasn’t done anything.
Hooded eyes drag to hers. “Fucking perfect.”
She starts the round with shaky hands, distracted when his eyes dip to the lace covering her, the dampness spreading, but with more determination than ever to win.
“I win,” she says, smiling triumphantly.
Roman leans back, spreading his palms out. “Your wish is my command,” he states, and the filthiest thoughts run rampant, but she pushes them to the side, resolved to see this ‘talk’ through.
“What happened between you and Audrey?”
“She wasn’t you,” he says immediately with a shrug.
“That’s not an answer,” she whispers, shaking her head.
He scratches behind his ear, bracing his elbows on his knees as he stares at her, contemplating his response.
“She didn’t excite me. She didn’t make my blood boil or my mind race.
She didn’t challenge me. She didn’t make me want to do better or be better.
She didn’t make me want to drop everything at any given moment to be with her.
She didn’t make me crave her scent or her smile or her touch.
She didn’t make me want to carve out space for her.
She didn’t make me feel weak and strong at the same time.
She didn’t make me curious. She wasn’t you. ”
He leans back in his chair, spreading his legs. “Better?” he asks, her voice thinner now.
She nods, her heart starting to beat at an unhealthily fast pace. “Better,” she croaks.
Roman wins round four and determines that he wants her to take her hair down, which she finds odd, but does anyway, letting her braids tumble down her shoulders in waves. When she asks if that’s all he wants, he hesitates.
“That’s all,” he finally gets out, his voice sounding husky.
Jahlani wins round five, determining that it’s only fair he loses a piece of clothing since she had to.
Reaching behind him, he drags the shirt over his back, folding it neatly and depositing it on top of the shorts she’d removed earlier.
Jahlani wonders if she should feel embarrassed at how much wetter she gets but decides to embrace it instead. After all, he wants her like this.
“Last round?” she asks, voice hoarse. He nods, flipping over his cards. This one seems to go on forever. Jahlani’s body tingles as the air conditioning hums on, fanning over her bare legs. She rolls her neck, jittering her foot against the floor.
Reaching forward, she swaps a card she knows has a low number. He doesn’t make a sound as she smiles, feeling proud. When it’s her turn again, she flips the card over, her mouth falling open.
“What? How?” she sputters, tapping the card. “This should be a negative four.”
He shrugs, reaching to flip over his last card. Her eyes narrow.
“You shuffled the cards,” she says, tone disbelieving. “That’s not fair,” she finishes, brows knitting. “That’s cheating.”
He raises his palms up. “Hey, I never said you couldn’t.”
“Whatever cheater,” she sneers, earning a chuckle from him. “I lost.” Her eyes drop to his mouth before jumping back to his eyes. “What do you want?”
His jaw clenches, and she inhales sharply when he pushes his chair back.
“On the table.”
“On the table,” she repeats slowly, wondering at all of the possibilities that here could mean.
The possibilities the demand entailed. She rises from her seat, stepping the two feet toward him until she’s between the edge of the table and his knees.
Exhaling, she presses her palms flat against the wood, testing its weight, before sliding on top.
The temperature seems to climb several degrees when she unfurls her legs again.
“Here? Like this, Roman?”
He rubs a hand over his mouth, his fist clenching and unclenching before he reaches to cup the back of her calf, his fingers sparking an inferno.
“Just like that,” he says, his voice rough. He leans forward, his other hand joining to massage both of her calves, and her head tips back slightly, her eyes slipping shut.
“What else, Roman?” she asks, fighting the urge to slide off the table and onto his lap, the pressure becoming almost unbearable between her legs.
He stands then, and her head falls forward to meet his stare that’s full of desire and promises and heat. His palms slide to the back of her knees and pull her forward. Her pelvis meets his in one fluid motion that has her lips parting. His head bends until his mouth is an inch from her neck.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing the column of her throat. Her hands curl against the table, but she keeps them in place as her body shudders at the contact.
“I’m thinking … that I should have been meaner.”
“Why?” he rumbles, traveling his lips to the arch of her shoulder.
“Because nothing good will come of this.”
He chuckles against her neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there that makes her shiver. “I can think of plenty of good things that will come of this. Tell me what else you’re thinking,” he says, wrapping both hands in her hair to expose more of her neck.
She bites her lip, determined to answer him.
“I’m thinking—” She pauses, shuddering when his mouth starts to suck against her throat.
“I’m thinking that I’m still not the person you’re looking for, but I’m not sure that I care anymore,” she says breathlessly, before moving to push him back to look him in the eyes.
“I’m thinking that I’m tired of thinking and I’m tired of talking. ”
He nods, his hands moving to cage her jaw, both thumbs brushing against her lips.
“Me too,” he murmurs, pulling her face to his. “Me too.”
Their mouths meet, and if possible, it’s even better this time around. There’s no restraint when he opens against her and strokes his tongue with her, when she moans at the contact, when he pushes further into her.
Want. Need. Mine.
One hand leaves the surface to drag through his hair, pulling him close, urging him on, holding him steady. She uses the leverage to guide him back to her throat, which he does so dutifully, licking and sucking. He kisses her collarbone, drawing her in closer, lifting her knee against him.
Pressing her other palm against the table, she shifts against him, earning a low groan from him as she gasps.
She does this several times, until his head drops into her chest and they’re rocking against each other, her lace impossibly wet.
Pulling his head back, she kisses him softly before stilling her movements to meet his eyes.
“Roman, I’m not … good at this.” She exhales shakily, licking her lips. “I just—”
Leaning forward, he kisses her once. And then again, working their tongues together, before pulling back to drop into the chair.
Jahlani takes deep breaths, observing him.
His hair is messy, his chest is red from where she had her hands on him, and his pants have a wet spot on the front, either from her or from himself.
Want. Need. Mine.
“Spread your legs,” he murmurs. This time, she doesn’t hesitate when she widens them. She drops both palms for balance and watches his chest rise and fall as he wets his lips.
“Touch yourself,” he demands, his hand running across his jaw, eyes dark.
Lifting one hand from the table, she flattens it against her stomach before sliding it under the lace. She exhales shakily as she slowly starts to rub, her head falling back, a breathless moan escaping.
“I could watch you do this for hours, Jahlani. Days,” he says, letting out a rough laugh. “Hell, I could watch you solve statistical equations for hours and be perfectly content.” She inhales sharply, her nipples hardening when she bears down on her fingers.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” she says, before letting out a low whine. “Not a second.”
He leans forward, eyes glazed as he watches her grind against her hand. Her stomach clenches and she stops her rhythm when he stands, towering over her.
Want. Need. Mine.
“I’m a patient man, Jahlani. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care how long anything takes when it comes to you and I mean it.”
“Roman,” she says, swallowing. “I need more.”
“I know,” he says as his index finger slides against the curve of her abdomen, back and forth, never shifting to where she wants it to. “One of these days, I’m going to watch you touch yourself until you come for me. But not today.”
She tries to even her breathing, but then both his hands are pushing the white cotton of her shirt up and over her breast. Warm hands roam across her chest and circle ever so gently, dampening her further. One hand leaves and hooks into the lace, tugging them down slightly.
“Good?” His voice sounds strained.
Yes, yes, yes.
She nods, biting her lip as his fingers hover over her core. She wants him to touch her. No, she needs him to touch her there. She arches her back, pressing into him.
“Is that what you want, Jahlani?” He drags his finger against the fabric, pinching softly, and she chases the pressure.
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Anything,” he says.
“Just … touch me.”
“Where?” He murmurs, drawing his hands up her shirt to cup her breasts. “Here?”