Chapter 25 Roman
Chapter Twenty-Five
Roman
Lola, wait.
No. It’s good. We’re good. I’ve had too much to drink and it didn’t mean anything, right?
Right.
- Conversation between Lola, age 18 and Roman, age 25, the night of the big bad thing
I don’t waste any time once I finally get Lola back to my place, carrying her straight up the stairs to my bed.
The temptation to call it our home, back in the coffee shop, was so fucking strong but Lola already looked far too unsure of herself and all I want to do is kiss away every trace of doubt from her beautiful face.
I hate that, once again, someone else’s judgements have dulled her fire. Lola is my sun and I want to bask in her glow all day long, but I can’t do that when the shadows take over.
I’m so fucking angry at Shaun for what he said to Lola, even if part of me still wants to spank her ass her raw for going to the MC compound without me.
It's taking everything in me not to tuck Lola safely away and hunt through the entire country till I get my hands on Rob fucking Carson. The bastard needs to go back to rotting in prison but I’m no good to Lola if I end up behind bars myself and right now, she needs me.
I lower her onto my bed and she kneels on top of the gray comforter.
One of the straps on the skimpy little sundress she’s wearing has slipped off her shoulder, her summer tanned skin a siren to my need to lick every inch of her.
I trail my gaze up her body, taking in every dip and curve—the swell of her breasts, the hollow of her throat—before capturing her smoky eyes with mine.
“You realize this is it, right?” I warn. “Now I’ve got you in my bed, I’m not ever letting you go.”
Her breath hitches and I worry I’ve scared her but then she says. “You could tie me to this bed, Roman. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
I peak a brow. “Now there’s an idea. But I’m not tying you up today, sweetheart. I won’t need to.” I curl one hand around her hip and with the other, tap two fingers against her temple. “I think somewhere in here, you still think you’re nothing but trouble.”
She lifts a shoulder, a slight, insecure shrug, but her eyes blaze. “Aren’t I?”
I smirk. “Maybe.” I’ll give her that. “But only in the best ways.” I let my smile fall away, needing her to take what I say next seriously. “Your parents are wrong, Lola. Your dad was wrong today.” He was right to apologize, but I know first-hand that the damage was already done.
Lola sighs. “They have reason to believe what they do. I was a stupid kid.”
I frown, not liking the way she sees herself. How her judgment is still clouded by the way others view her. They have no idea. “You were a teenager,” I say.
“I did stupid shit.” Another shrug. “I broke rules, acted out, and I have to live with the consequences.”
I touch my nose to hers and narrow my eyes. “Oh yeah? What did you do that was so bad?”
Her brown eyes flash stubborn. “Got arrested.”
I hide my smile. “For skinny dipping at Lovers Ridge. Hardly the crime of the century. Next.”
“Flunked two of my classes.”
“And caught up with extra credit,” I counter, knowing she’d worked her pretty little butt off every day after school with Mase to get those grades.
At some point her hands made their way up onto my chest and she tightens her grip around my shirt, like she’s anchoring me in case what she says next makes me pull away. Another shadow darkens her gaze. “Got stupid drunk at parties and let myself get raped.”
I swear to god I almost fucking growl. My hold on her waist spasms and I hiss through clenched teeth. “You were drugged,” I remind her, my words stone hard. “And that was not your fault.”
If it was anybody’s fault other than the bastard who dared put his hand on Lola, it was mine. I’m the reason she got so upset.
I wanted to keep her with me that night. I wanted to stay sitting by the fire with Lola in my lap and let her kiss me as much as she fucking wanted. I wanted her. But she was off limits in so many ways. So, I let her go.
It was the right decision. I know that. She was barely eighteen with dreams to travel the world, I wasn’t going to let her give that up over a teenage crush.
But there’s always been a part of me that thought, if I’d have just said yes, if I’d have just held onto her, she never would have gotten hurt.
Finding her in the early hours of the morning, lying in that barn, barely conscious, will forever haunt me.
I almost moved back to London after that night, too ashamed to be around the Fords when the whole thing felt like my fault. But then Lola said she didn’t remember anything, and I took the coward’s way out. I stayed, telling myself I was doing it to make sure she was safe.
I failed her that night and I will never forgive myself, but I’ll be damned if I let her keep blaming herself.
Lola’s hand runs from my shirt up to my face and she cups my cheek. “You know it wasn’t your fault either, right?”
Her touch is silken heaven.
I hum a sound of discontent, halfway between agreement and fuck no, but please keep touching me.
Lola leans in and trails her lips across my jaw line. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the irresponsible one, remember?”
I grunt and my hand darts up, circling her neck. Partly to shut up the crap she’s talking and partly because if she keeps flicking her tongue over my earlobe I’m going to come in my trousers. “Thought we already covered that wasn’t your fault.”
A shadow darkens her gaze, the weight of it heavy between us. “What if I did something else? Something worse.”
My eyes trace the contours of her face. “Did you?”
Her throat presses against my palm as she swallows but she drops her gaze. Whatever’s on her mind, she’s not going to say it.
I press my thumb under her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You were a teenager. Everyone does stupid shit as a teenager.”
Lola leans into my palm, her eyes sparking. “And if I’m still stupid? I wasn’t exactly sensible when I traveled. I let a guy tattoo me in a bar.”
The thought of some other guy touching Lola has my grip on her throat tightening. “Where?” I grunt out.
She lowers my hand from her neck and sits back on her heels. Then she pulls her dress over her head and lies back on my bed.
The sight of her spread out before me in nothing but her knickers is almost enough to do me in but then she trails the tip of her finger over fine black writing on the underside of her breast.
My brain short circuits. I climb onto the bed and hover over her waist. The words fuck it, do it scared are inked onto her soft cream skin.
It’s a very Lola tattoo to get, in a very Lola place, and I find myself furious.
Not because I don’t like it, the tattoo is sexy as fuck, but because the punk that did this would have seen her with her top off. Would have touched her tit.
I dip my head and rake my teeth over the ink. Then I suck on the skin till she gasps. “No more tattoos,” I decide. “Not unless I’m the one giving you them.”
I lift up and move so I’m level with her face.
She watches me through dazed eyes.
“You’re not reckless, Lola. You want to prove to yourself that you can be good?”
She bites her lip, denting the soft pink flesh before slowly nodding her head.
“You can follow rules as well as the next person. Trust me. I’ll show you just how good of a girl you can be for me.” Arousal flares in her hazel eyes.
I use the pad of my thumb to pull her bottom lip free and brand her mouth with a kiss, then I sit back up.
“Take off my shirt,” I order.
Lola rolls her eyes. “You know, being good is easy when you’re on board with all the rules.” She pushes herself up to kneeling and unbuttons my shirt.
I stay quiet, knowing full well she’s not going to like all of my rules.
Lola draws the checked material off my shoulders. A sweet whimper parts her lips before she dips her head, trailing kisses over my bare chest.
I catch her hair in my hand and tsk as I pull her back. “Did I say you could do that?”
Her forehead wrinkles adorably. “No fair. I want to touch you.” Her fingernails graze my stomach on her way down to my trousers. She flicks the button open before I chuckle and snag her wrist.
“But you’re being a good girl, aren’t you Lola? So, you won’t.”
She groans but stops fighting me. I let go of her wrist and ping the elastic of her thong.
“Knickers off.”
Lola slides the black silk down her thighs.
I’m a man enrapt. The sight of her pussy bare in front of me, her curls damp with arousal, has my cock straining against my trousers.
Lola dangles her knickers of her finger. “You know they’re called panties, right?”
I raise a single brow. “Does that mouth of yours need something to occupy it?”
Her eyes glaze, her breath a heated rush. “Yes. Please.”
Of course that would be her answer. Lola Ford has never not risen to a challenge. I push my thumb between her lips and let her suck. Pleasure shoots straight to my cock and I have to backtrack before I come in my pants like a horny teenager.
“Lie down,” I say, trying to take back control of the situation. “Palms against the bed.”
Lola does as she’s told, and I trace my fingertips across her stomach. She squirms, her hands gripping the sheets.
“I’m not going to tie you up,” I say, “but you’re going to be a good girl and keep your hands exactly where they are.”
She flattens out her palms and opens her mouth to say something but I cut her off.
“You’re also not going to talk unless I tell you to.”
Her eyes narrow but she presses her lips together.
I slide my hands under her head and spread her hair, so it’s fanned out around her, purple strands and all.
“Look at that,” I marvel when I’m done. “Who would have thought, a quiet Lola Ford.”
She glares at me but I just laugh and lean over till my lips touch her ear. “One final rule, Firebird: You don’t come without permission.”
A soft mewl escapes her closed mouth and her grip on the sheets tightens as I sit up and trail my fingers over her collar bone and down the valley of her breasts.