Chapter 26 Lola
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lola
He’s going to go, you know.
What are you talking about?
Roman. He’s not from this world Lo, and the second he’s finished at Riders he’s gonna clear out and never look back.
- Conversation between Mase, age 18 and Lola, 11
I wake to my new favorite scent, cedarwood and apples against the soft white sheets. I smile to myself, having just a second to enjoy the moment before raised voices ruin it.
Actually, it’s just one raised voice, the other is hushed.
“Is she in there?”
I push myself up at my brother’s agitated words to find the other side of Roman’s bed empty. Grabbing his shirt from off the floor, I button it up around me and tip toe down the wooden floating stairs.
The front door is ajar but Roman’s bare back blocks the view, his checked pajama bottoms low on his hips.
“You need to leave, right now,” he snaps, his voice low.
“Why? So, you can go back to fucking my little sister?”
I wince. Mase is not being quiet and I’m endlessly grateful Roman doesn’t have any neighbors.
“You’re drunk. Lola is inside, sleeping. Now shut the fuck up before you say something you regret.”
I stare through the kitchen windows, debating whether or not to interrupt. It’s dark out, the sky like the winter sea. I can’t see properly from this angle, but I picture Mase on the porch, swaying on his feet as he rages at Roman.
Guilt cracks inside of me, the ache between my legs that I’d been all too happy to fall asleep to, reminding me just how badly I screwed up.
I don’t know how Mase found out, whether Dad mentioned it or whether word of Roman kissing me outside the shop yesterday traveled but either way we should have been more careful. I should have spoken to him first.
I ought to go out there now but my last interaction with drunk Mase has left me scarred so I hesitate, hanging back by the island and fiddling with the leaves on one of Roman’s many plants.
“She’s my sister, Roman. My fucking sister. And you’re supposed to be my best friend.”
“I get why you’re mad, but this isn’t some fling.
Lola is everything to me.” Roman’s words wrap around me like a warm blanket.
We’ve not had a chance to talk about where this is going but if it was up to me, he and I would be the stuff of fairytales.
You know, the modern, Disney-fied version, not the original Grimm brothers’ stories where literal hearts get torn out of chests.
Except that’s exactly what it feels like when I hear what Mase says next.
“Oh yeah? Does she know you’re leaving?”
The leaf crumples in my fingers. Rushing waves fill my ears and I barely hear the rest of the conversation.
“You kept the job offer,” Mase says. “There I was looking for some fucking painkillers and instead I find out you’re going to work for your son of a bitch father.”
“Mase—” Roman starts but my brother cuts him off.
“Finally going to let him groom you, huh? Turn you into as much of a bastard as he is, although I guess if you’re sleeping with my sister, you’re already halfway there. Maybe you’ll hire her as your secretary, so you fuck her on the side.”
The door slams shut behind Roman and a crack precedes my brother’s grunt. I’m pretty sure Roman just punched him but I don’t have the capacity to care right now.
My feet take me to the drawer by the sink, and I pull it open. I’d be stupid to trust a word out of my brother’s mouth right now, but I don’t have to because it’s there in black and white.
Air sticks in my throat. The paper is smooth under my fingers. It’s the posh thick sort of stuff you only find in corporate offices and the salary at the top makes my head spin.
One million pounds per annum.
I turn around and let the contract slip out of my hand onto the island. The paper skids a little, stopping at an angle. I feel off-kilter just looking at it, but I can’t seem to look anywhere else.
No one sane turns down a starting salary of one million.
The front door clicks shut as Roman comes back inside but I still can’t take my eyes off the contract. How can a few pieces of paper have my foundations crumbling?
Roman stops inside the door, a heavy breath unsettling the silence. He approaches the end of the island like I’m a wild animal he doesn’t want to scare.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” I choke out. “Too much.”
“I’m not taking the job.” Roman’s voice is oak-solid and it’s almost enough to make me look at him.
“He’s offering you a million pounds, Roman. He’s your dad.”
Roman’s hands clench into fists. “He could offer me the fucking moon and it wouldn’t make him any more of a father to me.”
Hope flickers inside of me and I finally manage to look up at him.
The lines of his face are rigid, tension pulling tight at his eyes.
Even angry, he’s so damn beautiful. The rough shadow on his jaw starred in every one of my teenage fantasies and I’m trying to convince myself last night wasn’t too good to be true.
“You still have the contract,” I say.
“Because I hadn’t got around to throwing it in the bin.”
He rounds the island to stand in front of me and flips to the last page of the contract. “See, it’s not signed. And it won’t be.” He picks up the fancy papers, the knuckles on his right hand red and raw, and tears the contract in half.
The beat returns to my heart. “You know it’s called a trash can, right? Not a bin.”
Roman’s laugh brushes across my face as he hangs his head. “Yeah, Firebird. I know.”
The nickname soothes me a little, but I still can’t quite shake the feeling that I’m going to lose Roman when I’ve only just got him. I can’t have spent six years running away from him to lose him now. I push down my cuticles with the nail of my thumb until Roman lifts my chin.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you about my dad visiting.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Honestly, I didn’t want him anywhere near you.”
I snag his good hand and play with his fingers.
Roman’s always been like this. When we were kids Mase, or more often I, would inevitably come home with some sort of drama and talk it through with our parents but Roman never did.
I used to think he was too much of a golden boy to have any problems but maybe he was just too used to dealing with shit by himself.
“You don’t have to do everything alone, Roman,” I say, locking my fingers together behind his neck.
His hands settle on my hips, his thumb dipping under the shirt of his I’m wearing and drawing circles on my skin. “Don’t I?”
I squeeze my thighs together as the sensations go straight to my core and shake my head. “No. I want to be here for you.”
Roman tilts his head and I hate how caught off guard he looks, like no-one has ever wanted to take care of him before. After a moment, his eyes soften. “I’m having dinner with my father on Friday to tell him I’m not taking the job. Come with me?”
I smirk up at him. “To have dinner with the man who, according to you, always gets what he wants, as you tell him you’re turning down a million-pound job offer? Sounds like fun.”
“Fuck, you’re right. You should stay here.”
I shake my head again. “Nuh uh, no way. You’ve invited me now, no takesie-backsies. Besides, awkward family dinners seem to be par for the course for us.”
Roman matches my smile and steps in towards me until our hips press together and I’m trapped against the island. “Are you and I good?”
I bring my hands to his chest, the scattering of brown hair there tickling my fingers. “Yes. I’m sorry I pried. And eavesdropped. But in my defense, drunk Mase is really loud.”
Roman hums. “You know how good girls apologize?”
I narrow my gaze at the mischief in his eyes, but he dips his head and brings his lips to my ear. The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers through me as he whispers the answer. “On their knees.”
I stare daggers at him as he smirks at me, but my nails dig into his chest, my fingers curling against the pleasure his words sparked.
I know Roman’s only teasing but I decide I’m not quite done proving I can be good. So I press on his chest until he steps back and I have space to lower myself to the floor.
The wood is rough on my knees, but I kind of like it, and I really like it when Roman gathers my hair in his hands, brushing it back into a ponytail and twisting it around his fist. He tugs, tilting my head back so he can look me in the eyes. “Tap my thigh if you need to stop, okay?”
I nod my head as best I can and hook my fingers in the waistband of his pajamas. I pull them down his thighs and Roman’s hard length springs free.
He’s silk over steel as I wrap my hands around him and swirl my tongue across the tip.
Roman jerks, his hand tightening in my hair.
I smile against the firm heat of him. Seeing how my touch affects him makes me want to drag this out. I run my thumb over the pre-cum beading at his head then lean back and take my thumb in my mouth, sucking it clean.
Roman’s eyes turn hooded as he watches. “Good girls don’t tease, Lola.”
I trace my tongue along the underside of his cock from base to tip then smirk up at him. “You sure about that?”
“Enough.” He drops my hair, letting it waterfall around my face for just a second before he threads his fingers through the locks and cradles my head. He draws me closer and I finally take him in my mouth. The salty taste of him floods my senses and I grip the back of his thighs as he takes charge.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve pictured this?” Roman asks, his voice low, straining for control. “You on your knees. These damn purple streaks against my hands as that stubborn mouth of yours is stretched wide around my cock.”
I moan and Roman tugs me closer, forcing himself deeper. He pulls out and I gasp for breath before he’s pushing back in. He hits the back of my throat and I dig my fingers into his thighs.
“Relax. You can take me, Firebird. That’s it, just breathe through your nose and swallow. Your mouth was made for my cock.”
All of me was made for Roman. I fight against the need to choke and swallow him down.
“Fuck. Such a good girl.” His head tilts back, the tendons in his neck in full relief as he holds me close.
I feel him thicken in my mouth before he comes and I swallow again, hungry for the taste of him.
His hands go slack on my head and he steadies himself against the island.
I sit back on my heels and lick my lips.
Roman stares down at me, his eyes ravenous. He hooks his hands under my arms and I squeal with laughter as he lifts me onto the island.
“My turn,” he growls before lifting my shirt and burying his head between my thighs.