by Sienna Blake
She settled her hips down to the hilt and gasped. “I don’t know whether I’ll ever get used to the size of you.”
I fucking hoped not.
She moved slowly at first, her hips lifting and rolling down onto me, her tiny soft hands running over my chest and abs as if she didn’t know which part of me to hold on to. I loved the way she bit her lip as she tried to hold in her groans, the way her perfect round breasts bounced, her lickable nipples peeking through her hair.
She began to speed up, causing the pressure in my body to build. I kneaded her ass and ground my hips up to meet hers. Fuck, I had to stop touching her before I lost control. Usually, I’d be grabbing her hips and slamming her down onto me faster. I didn’t. I reached up, grabbed the headboard and held on, my knuckles going white.
She slammed down onto me harder and faster until her breaths were my name coming out in curses, over and over.
I was so damn close I was seeing stars behind my eyelids. “Fuck yes marry me,” I muttered, my growling becoming incoherent, my brain completely shorting out. I wasn’t sure what I was saying to her, I just knew I didn’t want her to stop. Ever.
Her pussy clenched. I felt her orgasm rumbling all around me. I couldn’t fucking take it anymore. I grabbed her thighs and spurred her on as she rode us both over the edge. An orgasm tore through me like an earthquake, my vision turning into a sea of white.
Her scream faded and she collapsed on my chest, her sweat mixing with mine. I crushed her into me like I could pull her into my body. Like I could keep her. Her perfume of pears and musk, mixed with the musk of sex, filled my nose. She was intoxicating, every part of her. Every time I sank into her warm, soft folds I went in a little deeper, I lost myself a little further. For the first time in my life I wondered, would I ever get enough?
“I should go,” she said, sitting up, startling me out of my reverie. “Let you get ready to leave. I’m sure you have other people you want to catch up with while you’re here.”
No. My stomach tightened. I didn’t want her to leave.
She has to leave eventually.
But not now.
I forced a smile and tried in the most casual voice I could. “Do you want to use the shower?”
She bit her lip. I knew she was wondering about my offer. “Thanks, but I can shower at home.”
I gripped her thighs, not letting her rise off me, scared that if I let her up, I wouldn’t find a way to make her stay a little bit longer. Don’t you want to stay? “There’s a huge high-pressure showerhead in there that I’ve paid for already, so you might as well use it.”
“I don’t know.”
I screwed up my nose. “Look, I really didn’t want to have to say this, but you really, really need a shower.”
She laughed and poked my side, the vulnerable part of me that she had somehow ferreted out. Not even Jacob had known I was ticklish there. “I do not stink.”
I pinched my nose. “Like high heaven.”
She poked me again. I grabbed her hand, laughing, rolling over her to pin her down. Her hair flowed out across the pillow like spilled wheat. Fuck, she looked so damn beautiful staring up at me with her sharp whiskey-colored eyes and her breasts pressing up against my chest. I leaned down and covered her mouth with mine. This woman was like a drug. I wanted to have her over and over again.
She tore her lips from mine and pushed at my chest. “Roman, let me up.”
I felt my face tighten. I’d never had to work so fucking hard to get a woman to stay with me. “Shower first,” I commanded.
“So bossy.”
“Deal with it. That’s what you signed up for when you entered my bedroom.”
She rolled her eyes but there was a small smile on her lips. “Fine. Shower first.”
I rolled my hips against hers, my body heating up again, my dick swelling already. The thought of being inside her again was enough. “I’ll join you.”
She gasped as I rubbed my length against her slit. “Are you serious? Again?”
I grinned, rolled us up to the edge of the bed and stood with her clinging to my torso. I held her to me with my hands on her ass and thighs as I walked us into the bathroom.
“I’m never going to leave if you keep this up,” she mused against my neck.
That’s the plan.
10
____________
Julianna
What was I doing? I let the hot water wash the shampoo out of my hair. It ran over my head and body, swirling white suds disappearing into the drain. I had already stayed longer than I’d planned. Roman had fucked me in the shower up against the marble tiles, making me come hard again, before giving his beautiful body a quick clean while I leaned against the wall, studying him with greedy eyes. Now I was alone actually having a shower and yet thinking of him.
He was such a contradiction. Domineering and fierce, yet funny and playful. He managed to inspire such trust in me so quickly. More than that, I could see the watchful, observant man underneath the charming exterior, the kind of man whose thoughts ran deep. The kind of man who knew exactly what was going on around him at all times. He was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.
He was dangerous. Dangerous for my heart. I had only known him less than a day and already… already I didn’t want to leave.
He is leaving. Tonight.
The more time I spent with him, the more attached I’d get. I had to go before this feeling got any stronger. I needed to protect myself. Every time he’d sunk his length into me, my body shook with such soul-deep pleasure unlike I’d ever thought possible. He’d awakened something inside me. Now I wasn’t sure if I could live without it. Without him.
Don’t be stupid, Julianna. You barely know the guy.
It was only one night. That was the deal. I knew this when I agreed to come home with him. I couldn’t stay any longer. I couldn’t let myself get any more addicted. I was leaving. Right after this shower. No exceptions. I nodded slightly to myself with determination. Mind made up, I turned off the water.
I came out of the bathroom, dried and wrapped in a bathrobe. I’d have to collect my clothes where ever they had been thrown around the room last night. I frowned as I looked over the empty bedroom. There were my bag and shoes. I couldn’t see my clothes anywhere.
“Roman, have you seen my—?” I stepped into the living room of the suite and froze. There was a huge buffet of eggs, fruits, granola, yogurts, cheeses and cold meats as well as pastries and croissants on a silver trolley beside a laid-out circular marble-topped table with matching cream Elizabethan chairs. Roman was sitting in one of those chairs wearing only his Georgio Armani briefs, looking like a king sitting on a throne. He just needed a crown. Hell, he didn’t need a crown. One look at him and you could feel the royalty oozing off him. “What’s this?” I asked.
“Breakfast. Although, with the current time, it’s technically lunch. Sit. Eat.” He waved at the other seat at the table.
I frowned. “But you’re leaving Verona in…” I looked at the stylish clock on the wall, the silver hands reading 1:53, “in about eight hours.”
“That’s still eight hours…”
I folded my arms across me. “This can’t go anywhere,” I said, wondering if it was me or him I was trying to convince.
“I know,” he said, his voice going quiet.
“So, what are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he said gruffly. “Just… eat breakfast with me.”
My heart did a flip in my chest. This was dangerous. Every second I let him keep me here was only going to make the inevitable goodbye ever the more painful.
Apparently, I was a sucker for pain.
“Besides,” he said, “I had your clothes sent out for cleaning. They should be back in four hours.”
“Four hours.” I blinked. “What the hell am I supposed to wear in the meantime.”
He grinned. “That bathrobe is perfect. Or nothing. I don’t mind.”
Asshole. He was
giving me no choice. “You did this on purpose.”
He didn’t confirm or deny my statement. He pointed again to the chair opposite him. “Sit. Now. Or did you forget the rules?”
I snorted. “I thought your bossiness only extended to sex.”
“You thought wrong.”
Forcing me into the shower, ordering breakfast, sending my only clothes to be cleaned… He was finding excuses to keep me here. Didn’t men do their best to get rid of you after a one-night stand?
Does this feel like a one-night stand?
No, it didn’t. But he was leaving soon. A one-night stand was all that it could be.
He was still staring at me, waiting for me to follow his instructions. I let out a sigh and sat down in my robe at the breakfast table, crossing one leg over the other. I noticed his gaze drift down to my thigh and realized my robe was flashing him a decent amount of leg. I yanked my bathrobe closed before he decided he was hungry for something other than breakfast. I shook my head as I stared at the spread. “Seriously Roman, there’s enough food here to feed an army.”
“I didn’t know what you liked. So, I ordered one of everything.” I could sense him studying me. “What would you choose to eat for breakfast?”
I grabbed the plate of eggs, bacon, fried mushrooms, grilled tomatoes and hash browns, placing it in front of me. It smelled amazing. My tummy gave out a little rumble in agreement. I cut up a bite-sized piece of each item on the plate, then carefully skewered them onto my fork into one large, perfect bite. I glanced over to him and he raised an eyebrow.
Normally I would be too self-conscious to let any man watch me eating like this.
“I’ve been inside you, Jules. I’ve had my fingers, drenched in your come, shoved down your throat, and my tongue in your asshole.”
I grinned before I placed the entire contents of my fork into my mouth. His mouth dropped open. I groaned with pleasure as I chewed, then swallowed.
He pointed at my plate. “You’re going to eat all of that.”
“Why not?” I began to cut up another perfect bite.
He shook his head. “Looks like I’m eating the rabbit food.” He grabbed the bowl of berries, yogurt, and granola. “I’ll know not to order you a salad for dinner.”
Dinner?
I stopped chewing. “I’m not staying for dinner.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“Roman, you can’t keep me here.”
“I’m not. Feel free to leave. Without your clothes.”
Damn him. He had me there. I lowered my fork and crossed my arms over my chest. “If we’re going to spend the day with each other, we need some rules.”
He grinned. “It’s a bit late for hard limits, Jules.”
I fought a rising flush. “No personal questions.” If we kept things impersonal, then it would stop me from getting too attached. Right?
“What do you mean by ‘personal’ questions?”
“You know, family, work…personal stuff.”
“If I asked you if you liked maple syrup, is that too personal?” He indicated the small pot of maple syrup sitting beside the stack of pancakes.
I shifted in my chair. “No.”
“That’s good to know.” He dug into his bowl of granola.
I frowned. I was missing something. “Why is that good to know?”
“Because you’re going to suck it off my cock.”
My eyes dropped to his briefs. He was already hard. Again.
Dear God, this man was going to be the death of me.
* * *
Hours later, we lay naked and sticky from maple syrup on the plush rug on the carpet of the living area, a few cushions strewn about, a soft jazz playing from the radio. I had long since given up fighting him. I had given up trying to leave because deep down I didn’t want to. I was here, staying with him for as long as he’d let me.
“Why did you move to London eight years ago?” I asked Roman as I traced his bare chest with my finger.
He had one hand behind his head and the other brushing my side. “I thought you said no personal questions.”
I pouted. “I may have been a bit harsh.”
He studied me before saying, “Let’s make a deal. I’ll answer a personal question for every one of mine that you answer.”
I swallowed down a knot of apprehension. “Deal. So…why did you move?”
He inhaled deeply. “My father is a difficult man. My family is…complicated. We have a family business and the politics… The politics are killer. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I wanted to be my own person.”
“That’s very brave of you.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Or desperate.”
I shook my head. “Brave,” I confirmed. “I don’t know if I could ever get the courage to leave Verona, even though…even though part of me wants to. To get out from my father’s shadow.”
He shifted closer and brushed a lock of hair from my cheek. “Why don’t you?”
I shook my head. “I’m the only one that he has left.”
“You can’t live your life for your father.”
“You can’t live your life to avoid yours,” I snapped back.
We both stared at each other, the silence growing thick. I thought for a second that I may have crossed the line. Then his face softened and he nodded. “Touché.”
I suddenly felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know the first thing about your relationship with your father.”
“You’re still right. I am living my life to avoid him.” Roman inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. “He was never the same since my mother died,” he said quietly. His eyes flashed with sadness that he wasn’t even trying to hide.
My heart clenched. “Was that her funeral you went to yesterday?”
“No. My mother died fourteen years ago.” His voice trailed off.
Fourteen years. His mother died the same year that mine did. “So did mine.”
“That was the gravesite you were visiting yesterday.” It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
“Tell me about her.”
I shouldn’t. My mother lived in a deep, safe space in the depths of my heart that no one, no one ever got to see. She was mine and my memories of her were mine.
“I’ll tell you about my mother,” he said softly.
That, apparently, was enough for me.
11
____________
Roman
“I’ll tell you about my mother,” I said before I could stop myself.
I was treading on dangerous territory. If I said too much about my family, then she might guess that I was Roman Tyrell, not Roman Lettiere as I had told her yesterday. I don’t know why I had lied about my surname. No, I do. I hadn’t wanted to see her eyes fill with judgment at the cursed name Tyrell. Besides, it wasn’t that much of a lie. Lettiere had been my mother’s maiden name. I had always felt like a Lettiere instead of a Tyrell.
“My mother was fierce,” Julianna said softly, “she stood up for what she believed in. She loved me and my father with a steady ferocity. She’d do anything for us.”
Julianna could have been speaking about herself. “It sounds like your mother was an incredible woman.”
She nodded, her eyes still facing forward. “I struggle to follow in her shadow.”
“I doubt that.”
She let out a long breath. “Your turn,” she said quietly.
My turn. I had agreed to give her a piece of my soul for one of hers. I felt my heart turn to steel the way it did when things hurt too much. “My mother was a good woman who was cursed to fall in love and marry the wrong man.” Even I could hear the bitterness in my own voice.
She had been cursed to love my father, a man whose ambition endangered her life and eventually killed her. “I’ve never stopped missing her,” I admitted.
“Me too,” she said.
“I don’t think you ever really get used to it.”
She nodded. “Every event for the rest of my life will be overshadowed by the hole she left behind.”
“Every birthday.”
“Each Christmas,” she agreed. Something flashed in her eyes. “Whose funeral did you go to yesterday?”
“My eldest brother.”
Her face fell. “I’m so sorry.”
I shrugged, even though the loss of him fisted in my belly. Jacob and I had not seen eye to eye for a long time, but I loved him like only a brother could. Once upon a time I had worshiped him like only a younger brother could.
“Were you close?”
“Once. When we were younger. Then he changed. I didn’t like what he became.” The man they buried yesterday wasn’t the Jacob I knew and loved. The truth was, I had missed him for over a decade. For me, the real Jacob died that summer he turned sixteen—the summer my mother died—and my father began to groom him to take over our family business. I had been twelve.
Through my youthful eyes, Jacob became something I didn’t recognize. I watched him morph into one of the monsters that crawled out of one of the stories that he used to read to me before bed. He became a ball of learned rage and hatred. Of eye-for-an-eye justice. Of self-righteous fury.
Our relationship changed. I was no longer the little brother he would protect with his life. He no longer trusted me, taught by our father never to trust anyone, not even his own blood. I became a threat to his future throne.
It was only a matter of time for me to follow him down that dark path…
Julianna’s hand fell upon my arm. Her touch sent waves of heat through my body. She was like a ray of sunshine cutting through the fog I’d been drifting around in for the last fourteen years. If she knew what she was doing to me, she didn’t show it.
“Sometimes that’s harder,” she said. “Trying to mourn someone still alive who doesn’t look like the person you loved.”
I looked up at her and studied her face. Underneath the flawless features was a sadness, an empathy beyond sensing another person’s sadness. She knew. She understood.