Chapter 29 Hana
HANA
“You okay? You need anything? Food? Are you warm enough?” Roman had been like this since we woke up midmorning, naked and wrapped around each other like our bodies sought each other out, even in sleep.
I could see why. Despite my concerns about this man, the way he made me feel—safe, taken care of, adored—it was becoming a little addictive.
I turned to look up at him from where my head rested on his giant thighs as we lay on the sofa. “For the fourteenth time, I’m fine. But I do appreciate you asking.”
Roman smiled down at me, his eyes creasing as he pushed my hair back from my face, the TV programme we were watching long forgotten.
He’d not stopped touching me since I showed up for my phone last night.
As if he couldn’t believe I was really here, which was ridiculous because the man could probably have any woman he wanted.
“You don’t have to take care of me, you know.”
“I know, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you.” His words touched me as gently as his fingers that skimmed my jaw.
“The things you say make you a walking red flag.” He raised one eyebrow in question, so I continued, “You’re so nice, you look like you do, you show up when I need you, even when I don’t want you to… it’s all very red flaggy.”
“You think I’m nice?” He frowned, sounding horrified. “Cardigans are nice. Romcoms are nice. I don’t want to be nice.”
“But you don’t mind being a walking red flag?” I tilted my head while I waited for his answer.
His shoulders bounced up and down in a shrug. “Not if I’m your walking red flag.”
I rolled my eyes so hard they ached. “See, smooth talking. Red flag.”
“You didn’t mention the sex. Is that a green flag?”
I giggled, instantly shaking my head because I was not a giggler. “Tell me something about you, Ro. Something real.”
He stared down at me intently as if he was sorting through the thoughts in his head for something suitable. “I used to be in a gang.”
I bolted upright, twisting to stare at him, bringing my bent leg onto the sofa. “What the hell, Ro? That doesn’t help with the red flags. A gang? Like an innocent gang of friends where you had a secret handshake and a cute name, or a gang of criminals who got up to illegal stuff?”
His eyes dipped to stare between my thighs, and I realised that, dressed in just his T-shirt and no underwear, my new position exposed my pussy, and he was drinking it in with his gaze.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he placed his hand on my shoulder and pushed me back, positioning himself between my now spread-wide thighs.
He leaned forward, parting my folds with his fingers, his breath dancing over my clit, sending a ripple of pleasure through me.
“We did have a handshake, but we also got up to some pretty illegal stuff.”
“What sort of stuff—oh, fuck.” Roman’s beard tickled my thighs as his tongue licked from my arsehole all the way to my swollen bundle of nerves. My back arched as my fingers raked through his hair. When he did it again, I gripped tighter, wanting to hold him in place.
“You can’t drop something like that on me and then try to distract me,” I mumbled as he teased my entrance with his fingers and licked and flicked my clit.
When his hands found my thighs, pinning me in place as he fucked me with his tongue, I whimpered, arousal rushing from me, which he lapped up like it was a nectar he couldn’t waste a drop of.
Pleasure fogged my brain, but I noticed he did this a lot—dropped Easter eggs about who he was, and then distracted me so I couldn’t question him about them.
Still having enough brain cells in working order, I tugged on his hair, pulling his head back so he had to look at me. The sight of him alone, glistening lips and hooded eyes, almost made me forget myself again, but I maintained my focus. “Answer me honestly. Are you a criminal?”
He splayed his hand over my stomach, and as he shook his head in response to my question, he pushed two fingers inside me, curling them at the perfect angle so they hit my G-spot. “Not a criminal.”
I stared down as he pumped in and out of me, loving how wet his tattooed fingers looked each time they appeared. His hand on my stomach pressed with a little more pressure, and my body bowed.
“Not in a gang anymore. I’m one of the good guys now.
” I let out a breath, the whoosh of relief audible to us both.
“And you’re going to let me take care of you.
” And with that, his fingers picked up their pace, pegging my G-spot as his mouth moved to my pussy, so that when the pressure got too much, and my orgasm squirted from my body, Roman was there, drinking it down, humming into my folds as if I was rewarding him for his honesty.
Before I could even catch my breath, Roman flipped me onto my stomach, pinning my hands behind my back with one hand and wrapping the other around the nape of my neck, holding me in place as he pushed his cock inside me with a loud groan, fucking me like he owned me, and I was starting to think maybe he did.