Chapter 39 #2
“Very good,” I confirm, trying not to stare too obviously at how the candlelight plays across the angles of his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze.
Throughout dinner, I’m hyper-aware of every movement Roman makes.
The flex of his forearms as he cuts his food, the way his lips curve around the rim of his wineglass, how his fingers brush mine when he reaches across the table to make a point in conversation.
The tension between us builds with every shared look, every accidental touch, until I feel like I might combust.
It’s not like we haven’t been physically affectionate over these past months.
There have been plenty of kisses and embraces, moments of heated touching that always seem to stop just short of the point of no return.
Roman has been frustratingly gentlemanly, never pushing, always letting me set the pace.
At first, I appreciated his restraint. After everything that happened — the trauma and betrayal — I needed time.
But now? Now, watching the way his suit jacket pulls across his shoulders as he stands and offers me his hand, I’m done with restraint.
“Ready to go?” he asks, his voice a rumble that I feel in my core.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
The drive back to my house is charged with anticipation. Roman keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my knee, his thumb tracing small circles that send electric currents up my thigh. We don’t talk much, the silence thick with unspoken desire.
By the time we pull into my driveway, I’ve made my decision. No more waiting.
He walks me to the door, standing close as I dig through my clutch for my keys.
“Would you like to come in for a drink?” I ask as I unlock the door.
“I’d like that,” he says, following me inside.
Once in, he remains in the entryway, hands in his pockets, looking unfairly gorgeous in the soft light of my hallway.
I turn to face him, my heart pounding. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want a drink.”
Roman’s brow furrows slightly, uncertainty crossing his features. “Do you want me to go?”
“No.” I step forward, closing the distance between us. “I don’t want you to go.”
Before he can respond, I grab the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him down to my level. “If you don’t take me upstairs and make love to me right now, Roman Sullivan, I swear to God I will make you regret it.”
For a heartbeat, he just stares at me, surprise written across his face. Then his eyes darken, and he laughs, a low, hungry sound that makes heat pool low in my belly. His hands find my hips, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp.
“Is that right, Sunshine?” His voice is a rough whisper against my lips. “You’re giving the orders now?”
“Someone has to,” I breathe, pressing closer. “It didn’t seem like you were going to anytime soon.”
“I was trying to be respectful,” he murmurs, one hand sliding up my back to tangle in my hair. “Give you time.”
“I’ve had time,” I tell him, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. “Now I want you.”
That’s all it takes. His mouth crashes into mine, the kiss nothing like the careful ones we’ve shared these past months. This is hungry, desperate, a claiming. I melt into him, opening to the insistent press of his tongue, my hands fisting in the fabric of his jacket to pull him closer.
Roman breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “Upstairs,” he growls against my skin. “Now.”
I don’t need to be told twice. Taking his hand, I lead him toward the stairs, pausing every few steps for another burning kiss, another heated touch.
By the time we reach my bedroom door, we’re both breathing hard.
“You sure?” he asks, one last check, his eyes searching mine.
In answer, I pull him into my room and kick the door shut behind us.
Backing away from Roman, I kick my shoes off, first one and then the other. Reaching up behind me, I remove the pins holding up my hair, giving my head a small shake and letting the simple knot tumble free down my back.
Roman stands just inside the room, watching me.
His eyes are so blue it’s almost unreal, burning with that intense focus I remember from before; the one that used to terrify and thrill me in equal measure.
It’s the look that says: I want you, and I’m going to have you, and nothing in the world will stop me.
He removes his suit jacket and tosses it to the side before starting on the buttons on his cuffs.
Closing the small distance between us, I reach for his collar, sliding my fingers inside and tugging him down to meet my mouth.
The kiss is raw, and fierce. He catches my waist with one hand and the back of my head with the other, tangling his fingers in my hair.
He holds me as if I might vanish if he lets go for even a second.
Roman picks me up, lifting me like I weigh nothing, and carries me across the room. He lays me down on the bed and kneels above me. His hands move to my thighs, skimming up the hem of my dress and pushing it higher, exposing the pale skin of my legs inch by inch.
“God, I missed you,” he says, voice rough as gravel. “You have no idea.”
“Show me,” I breathe.
The words light something in him. He pulls my dress up over my hips, bunching it at my waist, and then hooks his fingers in the band of my underwear, tugging it down and off in one smooth motion.
His mouth is on me before I can say another word, his beard scraping my inner thigh, his tongue hot and sure and hungry.
I arch into him, grabbing handfuls of the comforter to anchor myself.
I can’t remember the last time anyone made me feel this way.
Maybe no one else ever has. Maybe it’s always been Roman, even when I tried to forget.
He knows exactly what I need, what I want, and he gives it to me mercilessly, relentless in the way only he can be.
He stops suddenly, pulling back to look up at me, his lips wet. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, and I realize I’ve been twisting away, one arm thrown over my face. “I want to see you.”
There’s no judgment in his eyes. Just desire and something softer, something closer to reverence.
I lower my arm, meeting his gaze head-on. “I want to see you too,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
He smiles, slow and predatory. “As you wish, Sunshine.”
He rises, making quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt and pulling it smoothly off.
The tattoos across his chest are slightly different from before; some are new, some altered.
He has new scars too, pale silver lines crossing his skin, evidence of a life lived rough and fast. But none of it mars him.
If anything, it makes him more beautiful.
He unbuttons his pants, pushing them down over his hips.
I don’t try to hide my stare. I’ve seen him naked before, hundreds of times, but the reality of him here, now, after so long, makes my pulse race. He’s massive, everywhere, and the sight of his cock, thick and hard and leaking at the tip, makes my mouth go dry.
He crawls over me. His hands roam my body, learning me all over again, mapping every curve and dip.
He finds the zipper at the back of my dress and pulls it slowly down until the fabric loosens and slips down my shoulders, pooling at my waist. He pulls me into a semi sitting position before unhooking my bra and pulling off my dress, tossing both aside.
His eyes darken as he takes in my bare breasts.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says, pushing me back down as he bends to suck a nipple into his mouth.
The sharp sensation is almost enough to make me come right then, but he doesn’t give me time to linger.
His mouth moves from one breast to the other, his teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver.
“Roman—” I reach for him, desperate to touch him, to feel his skin against mine.
He catches my wrists, pinning them above my head with one big hand.
“You want me to take you?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.”
He leans down, lips at my ear. “Say it again.”
“Please, Roman. I want you.”
“That’s my girl,” he says in a low growl that makes my pussy clench.
He releases my wrists, but I keep them where they are, letting him do whatever he wants to me. He slides a hand between my thighs, fingers finding me wet and open and aching.
“God, you’re soaked,” he says, a grin splitting his face. “You ready for me?”
“Roman,” I whimper, every nerve ending on fire.
He lines himself up and pushes in slowly, watching my face the whole time. The stretch is intense, bordering on too much, but I want it. I want him to fill me, to remind me who I belong to, to remind me who I am.
When he’s fully inside me, he pauses, eyes locked on mine. “You okay?”
I nod, breathing hard. “Better than okay.”
He starts to move, rocking into me with long, deep strokes. Every thrust drives the breath from my lungs. I wrap my legs around his waist, digging my heels into his back, urging him to go harder, faster.
He does. He fucks me like he needs me more than air, more than life. Like the world will end if he slows down, even for a moment.
He moves my legs, pushing them up until my knees are nearly at my chest. The new angle has him hitting something inside me that makes me see stars. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, but Roman sees and grins.
“Let go, Sunshine,” he pants, sweat beading on his forehead. “Let me hear you.”
I do. I let go of every last bit of control, every last bit of pride. I sob his name, begging, cursing, pleading for more. He gives it to me, picking up the pace until all I can do is hang on and ride the wave.
“Roman, I’m—oh God—” I can feel it building, pressure coiling low in my belly, threatening to explode.
“I know,” he groans, his own control starting to slip. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.”
His hand finds my clit, thumb circling in time with his thrusts. The pleasure is overwhelming, shattering. I come so hard I black out for a second, every muscle in my body seizing as I cry out his name.
He follows a heartbeat later, slamming into me one last time as he comes. He collapses on top of me, burying his face in my neck, breath hot and ragged.
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together, neither of us willing to move. When I finally catch my breath, I run my fingers through his hair, feeling the softness and the sweat.
Roman lifts his head to look at me. His eyes are softer now, the sharpness dulled by satisfaction. “You okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.
I smile, too spent to do anything else. “More than okay.”
He smiles back, genuine and unguarded. Rolling to the side, he pulls me with him so I’m curled against his chest. He covers us with the blanket and holds me tight, one hand splayed across my back, the other tangled in my hair.
For the first time in two years, I feel safe. I feel loved. I feel like I belong.
We don’t talk for a while, just lie together, breathing each other in. I listen to the steady thump of his heart, the rhythm grounding me, calming every nerve.
Eventually, Roman speaks. “I want you to know something,” he says, voice serious.
I lift my head to look at him. “What?”
He hesitates, as if searching for the right words. “I love you, Sunshine. And I want to do this right this time. No secrets. No bullshit. No lies. Just us.”
I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me. “I love you too. And I want that more than anything.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering there.
We fall asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into nothing. When I wake hours later, Roman is still holding me. The sun is just starting to rise, painting the walls in gold and pink.
I smile, knowing that for the first time in a long time, I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.
With Roman.
With my home.
With my future.