27. Waverly
CHAPTER 27
WAVERLY
Fortunate:Roman wants to boink me.
Unfortunate: It’s been so long since I’ve been properly boinked; what if they changed it?
“ The way I wanted you since the first time you walked into that bar seven years ago? ”
“How did you want me?” I ask in a whisper. I’m frozen in place. The rain has turned into a drizzle, but neither of us seem to care that we’re drenched and lying in his bed together.
“I told you already…”
“Tell me again. I love hearing how bad you wanted me.”
He rolls off me and then the bed and walks to the window, watching the storm. Damnit, Waverly. Foot meet mouth. It’s like he’s living it all over again.
I sit myself up and pad over to where he’s standing, wrapping my arms around him from behind. It doesn’t last long before he pulls me around so that I’m face to face with him.
“All those years ago…” He holds me close with his hands splayed on my back. “I know I was only eighteen, but I had to talk to you. Even if you shot me down.” I clasp my hands in front of me, trying to stop myself from shaking at his words. My nerves aren’t humming, they’re singing. From his words, but more from being this close to him. It’s not a foreign feeling. It’s something I’ve chosen to tuck in and forget. “There was just something about you. But when I came out, you were giving your number to Patrick, and I knew you were no longer mine to talk to—to want. Not the way I wanted to anyway. I wanted to get you alone— lose control with you.” His hands move around my waist, exploring the hallows of my back, causing a lurch of arousal within me.
“You were only eighteen, though.” I try to joke and make light of what he’s telling me. “Eighteen and at a bar, you naughty boy.” I push his shoulder teasingly and he grabs my hand, keeping it connected to his skin, and moving it toward the center of his chest.
“Do you feel this?” he asks, his expression darkening with an unreadable emotion. My hand lays to rest over his beating heart, its rhythm as erratic as lightning during a summer storm. It can’t be the run. He’s had a chance to recover from that…
As always, he reads my thoughts, “This is how my body reacts every time you’re around. How it’s always been when you’re around.” He pauses for a moment, as if choosing his next words carefully, “When you were with Patrick… Eventually… It became too much for me.”
My heart swells with a feeling I thought had long been dead.
“You couldn’t be around me,” I parrot, moving my hands to his arms, still pinned in his embrace. “Why not?”
He touches the tip of his nose to my forehead and drags it slowly down to mine, moving it back and forth. “Because I couldn’t fight the temptation lingering between us anymore. I was all yours. Ready to kick down all the doors to get to you—and the only one in my way was my brother.”
Well, shit…
“Temptation, hmm?” I trail my hands up his arms to his neck.
“ Temptation to touch you.” His fingers skate up my spine. “Temptation to kiss you.” He dips his lips to mine, ghosting over them. Our breaths mingling. “Temptation to hear what you sound like. The small whimpers and moans that slip out when you’re trying not to get caught.”
I feel the wind knocked out of me. These things he’s saying…I never dreamed he’d thought about me the same way I’ve thought about him for the past year. Oh, who am I kidding? While Patrick and I were together…we were more roommates than intimate partners. But Roman is confident and sexy. He was everything I’ve dreamed he would be. And he’s about to be mine?
He rests a soft kiss on my lips before he turns me around so my back is against him. “Don’t move.”
Roman peels my shirt over my head and drops it to the floor before snaking one arm around my waist, while the other climbs from my stomach, slowly over my lace-covered breast. My nipples pebble at his soft, calculated touch.
The room is only lit from the lightning flashing. His floor-to-ceiling windows are wide open for the world to see me standing half naked in his bedroom.
“Waverly, I’ve wanted to touch you—” His voice trails off. “The object of my dreams for so long.” His heart is beating against my back, mirroring my own. Not in sync, but chaotic and erratic.
Roman’s hand finds my neck before closing his fingers. Exposing the side of my neck with his grip, he trails kisses up from my shoulder to the sensitive skin under my ear. “Let me feel how wet I make you.”
I nod trying to say something—anything, but I can’t. Roman Huxley is touching me. The man who has had a piece of my heart for more than half a decade.
My brain short-circuits as his balmy touch drifts down my stomach once more and barely dips down the front of my sweatpants. “No underwear?” He growls against my hair, and I feel him grow even harder against my lower back. The feel of his fingers dipping that little bit lower has my body in overdrive. He’s achingly close to the place that hasn’t been touched for so long. Not even of my own accord. I want it. I need it. I need him .
“Please, Roman. Please!” I try arching toward him, to force his fingers to touch me where I need it the most, but instead he lets out a deep chuckle and draws circles against my skin. Back and forth, from hip to hip.
“You’re evil.” Sweat draws on my forehead, and my body is a current of primal need.
“Oh. You have no idea, Kensi,” he beams playfully. “But we’ll save that for another day.” Uhm, what? “Right now, I want to watch you come undone for me.”
Before I have a chance to ask, he has a finger dipping between my legs, swirling around the wetness that’s just for him. A finger slides inside of me, pulling a moan from the depths of my soul. Another follows, and I feel myself stretch around him. It’s been so long, I’m sure I won’t last, and that’s really fucking embarrassing.
Roman’s need to hear his name roll off my tongue causes relentless movement of his fingers between my legs. In and out, in and out, all while stroking my throbbing clit. My eyelids fall heavy, and I grab his wrist, trying to keep him in this exact place. It’s been my experience in the past that when you tell a man “I’m close,” he changes positions instead of continuing to do what he was doing. Literally ruining the moment.
But with Roman, it’s different. It’s as if he’s practiced a million times and perfected playing my body as a one-man orchestra. Repetitive flashes of lightning draw my focus to the windows, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection. My hair matted to my forehead, his hand around my neck. Our eyes meet and I melt into him, my thighs relaxing even more.
Pressure builds inside of me, a feeling that’s been foreign for quite a long time. His hand drops from my neck to my breast, massaging the supple mound. “So. Fucking. Perfect,” he whispers and his hard-on presses against my lower back, begging to be part of the action.
“Do you have any idea how sexy you are, Kensi?” His head dips once more and he growls against my neck. I shake my head. My body heats, and my skin starts prickling. A sensation I’ve missed. He turns my head, and he leans his forward to catch my moans as I come undone in his arms. His name a caress on my lips. I ride the wave of my orgasm, breathless, seeing stars. He breathes heavy in my ear and goosebumps take over my body.
“Beautiful. Always. So. Beautiful,” he whispers, slowly withdrawing his fingers. It’s a good thing he does as my knees are weak and I almost collapse in his arms.
My gaze falls to his coated fingers dipping into his mouth. “Mmm.” I’ve never been one to be bold in the bedroom. With Patrick, I was usually insecure or embarrassed. Really, with anyone. Worried that any man who took his time with me was doing it out of obligation. I get the opposite vibe from Roman. The flush of his cheeks and the bead of sweat on his forehead tells me he enjoyed it almost as much as I did. A burst of saliva explodes in my mouth as I eye the tent in his sweats.
“Roman…” I say his name with a smile, hoping he’ll let me return the favor.
“Don’t. This was about you tonight. I’ve waited over seven years for this, I can wait a little longer.” He spins me around, not letting me argue, and brings me into a soft kiss. One that takes my breath away. It’s filled with emotion. Dare I say the “L” word?
I’m guided to his bed where he lays me down. “Let me get you cleaned up.”
Cleaned up? In my past relationship, those words meant, ‘ Let me wash my hands because the thought of having any part of you on me for too long is repulsive .’ But not Roman, he comes back almost instantly with a warm washcloth.
“May I?”
“You may.” He slowly pulls my sweats down from my hips. I should feel embarrassed. We haven’t really had the whole undress and stare at each other moment. But it doesn’t feel weird or awkward with him. It just feels right .
Roman blushes ever so slightly and licks his lips, as if every swipe of the cloth against my wet folds is a work of art. His breathing is steady, and his lips are parted. The corded muscles in his arm move with every shift of his hand. A vision I will never tire of seeing.
“What are you feeling?” His stormy eyes find mine.
“I feel like…” I love you. I’m sorry I even entertained your brother. I’m sorry I let it get so out of hand. I wish I didn’t waste so much time being unbelievably unhappy. “I could get used to this.” I decide not to take him for a deep dive into my uninhibited thoughts and ruin what this is.
“Good.” He tosses the wet rag across the room into the bathroom and falls next to me, his hand immediately finding my exposed stomach. My body erupts with goosebumps as he starts tracing circles up and down the bare skin with his finger. I haven’t bothered trying to find my shirt.
His brows pinch together as he swirls in his thoughts. “Can I ask you something, without you getting upset?” Here we go. What if he wants to be just friends with benefits?
“I guess?” I try to contain my nervousness by pulling my lip between my teeth. Not exactly sure why that would do anything to help.
“You know…down the line…would you ever think about moving out of your apartment?” His circles speed up as if he’s fighting his own anxiety.
“Depends…” I know what he’s asking. He’s totally hinting at me moving in together. A sexy man acting adorable while beating around the bush.
His movements pause and his grays find my greens. “On?”
“Whether or not the guy I’m seeing can picture something long term with me.” I narrow my eyes, seeing if he is picking up what I’m laying down.
A grin starts on one side of his face and spreads to the other. We both lie there looking at each other as if there was never anything standing between us.