I watch until he's out of sight—he has a great ass—and then I quickly take care of business, wash my hands, and brush my teeth. On the way to the kitchen, I grab one of his ATF t-shirts off the floor and throw it on. Despite my growing belly, it still swallows me, landing well below mid-thigh.
I peek into the nursery on my way down the hall, smiling. Faith and Luke have been helping me get everything arranged just the way I want it. Luke moved the crib to the north wall, and arranged the rocking chair and ottoman in the corner. He also helped hang shelves that Faith and I decorated with board books and stuffed animals. The room is really coming together, which only makes me more eager for our daughter to get here.
I stop just inside the kitchen and grin, watching Roman move around. He's in nothing but a pair of boxers, his phone caught between his ear and his shoulder as he pulls stuff for French toast out of the fridge and deposits it on the counter. The sun shines through the big bay windows, little prisms of light reflecting on his olive skin. His tattoos draw my eye. I love how vibrant and bold they are. Every time he moves, the eagle on his back seems to ripple and move with him.
"We'll have the apartment ready for you, sweetheart," he says into the phone, and I know he's talking to Talia. His voice is always soft when he talks to her. It's honestly adorable how much he loves his daughter. I can't wait to see him with our little girl. Just the thought of him with our baby snuggled up on his chest makes my entire body clench in the best way possible.
I pad to his side and press a kiss to the Punisher tattoo on his upper arm.
He turns his head to grin at me.
"Tell Tal I said hi."
"Mila says hi," he tells her and then chuckles. "She says hi back." He reaches into the fridge and hands me the orange juice, which makes me pout.
"I miss caffeine," I mumble, glancing down at my belly. "You better love me best, ladybug. I gave up coffee for you."
Roman chuckles again and gently nudges me out of the way. "Talia says you better be ready to shop when she gets here," he informs me, reaching over my head to grab a glass.
"When is she coming?"
"Two weeks. What?" he asks her and then shakes his head. "Here, you two talk. I have to feed my girl and your baby sister. I love you too, sweetheart. We'll see you in a couple weeks. Be nice to Trent." He laughs again and then holds his phone out to me.
"Your dad is making me French toast," I tell Talia, rubbing it in. He makes the best French toast.
"I hate you."
"I love you too."
Roman hands me my orange juice and drops a kiss on my lips before shuffling me out of his way. "Go sit your pretty ass at the table, baby."
"Make me," I sass back at him, sticking out my tongue.
He smirks and shakes his head.
"You two are so cute," Talia says, a smile in her voice.
The urge to wrap my arms around her and hug her tight flares, but of course she's in Sacramento. I love her so much for embracing my relationship with Roman. She's genuinely accepting, and I'm so grateful to her for standing by us when others might not have done the same in her shoes. I'm her best friend and he's her dad, but there is no awkwardness, and I love her so much for that.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" I ask her, happy tears burning behind my eyes as I waddle to the table. "I really mean that, Talia. I don't know what I would have done if you hated me for being with your dad."
"I could never hate you, and I love you too. Now stop crying before daddy gets all growly. He hates it when you cry."
"He does hate it when I cry," I say, laughing and wiping away tears.
"You're too beautiful to cry," he growls.
Talia must hear him because she laughs loudly.
I set my glass on the table and try to hoist myself up into the chair. "I think your dad broke me," I mutter, huffing. "I'm too weak to climb into this dang chair."
"Gross!"
"I've got you, baby," Roman says from behind me. A split second later he wraps his hands around my waist and easily lifts me off the floor, depositing me into the chair. "We'll stop and get you a step stool today. I don't want you hurting yourself."
"Okay," I agree because I've needed a stool or something for days. Luke had to help me climb up into a chair once on Friday, but there's no way I'm telling Roman that. He'll lose his mind if he knows Luke touched me, even if it was strictly brotherly.
Roman kisses me again and then heads back to the kitchen. I sit at the table and chat with Talia, sipping my orange juice. It tastes horrible after having brushed my teeth, but I force it down anyway. As soon as I have the baby, I want the biggest cup of coffee on the planet.
"What are you guys doing today?" Talia asks when I tell her that he's taking another day off.
"We're going to spend the day on the beach."
"I thought you were tired of the beach."
"I was tired of being alone at the beach," I mumble. "But I love the beach." I never really knew how much until I went to Santa Cruz. The beach is peaceful, calming. I love feeling the sand between my toes and the salty spray on my face. I love watching Roman fly through the water on a surfboard. Someone as big as he is shouldn't be so graceful, but he looks like a god rising from the waves. He takes my breath away.
"Have you decided where you want to have the baby?" Talia asks.
"We haven't really talked about it…."
"Why not?" she demands. "Your new doctor is a dick."
Like Roman, she was not happy about what my new doctor had to say. She wanted me to ditch him too. But even if he is unhappy about my weight gain, I don't think Dr. Tanner, my doctor in Santa Cruz, would have recommended him if he didn't think Dr. Farmer was a good fit for me. I really want Dr. Tanner to deliver the baby, though. He's been with us since the very beginning. Roman doesn't like him because he's young and handsome, but even Roman trusts him to do what's best for me and our daughter.
I'm just not sure Roman will be able to take time off to be with me in Santa Cruz. With so much going on, I know he can't drop everything and spend weeks in Santa Cruz. And I don't want our daughter to come into the world sandwiched between one crisis and another. But I'm seriously starting to worry that, in order for Roman to be there, I'll have to have the baby here…and then he'll have to rush off to avert another disaster.
"There's a lot going on," I murmur into the phone, reluctant to say anything at all. Roman has enough on his plate right now without me adding to the load. It's not his fault el Demonio sent Los Angeles tumbling into chaos. I've simply avoided bringing up where I want to have the baby, hoping things will settle down soon and it won't be an issue. But I guess we need to decide soon. I'm going into the third trimester. Time to come up with a plan is running out.
"Did you have fun today?" Roman asks, running his fingers up and down my back. We spent the day in Venice, strolling along the Boardwalk and playing in the water. We bought the baby at least a dozen outfits along the way, and then had dinner at an incredible Italian restaurant before heading home. We've been snuggled up on the couch ever since, watching movies while he gives me a back massage.
"Mmhmm," I hum. I'm sprawled across a pregnancy pillow he bought me today that has a hole for my bump, which allows me to lie on my stomach without squishing the baby. He's stretched out beside me, his head propped up on one arm. I think he's watching me more than the movie.
All day long, his eyes have been on me. And not just because we were in public, which makes him anxious, but because his eyes are always on me. He watches me like he can't look away. Like he doesn't want to look away. I think it's been that way with him since the day we met, but I never let myself believe he wanted me just as badly as I always wanted him.
"You were glowing today, you know that?" There's a smile in his voice, a gentleness that makes my heart soar.
"It was the sun," I say, turning my head to look at him.
"No, baby," he disagrees with a shake of his head and a soft smile, "it wasn't the sun. It
was you." He brushes my hair back from my face, tucking a piece behind my ear, and then he runs a fingertip down the side of my cheek like he so often does. "You're so fucking gorgeous when you're happy, Mila."
"You make me happy."
"Good, because you're stuck with me."
I smile at him. "You know, you're pretty gorgeous yourself when you're happy. I love seeing you carefree and relaxed. I don't think I've ever seen you that way here in Los Angeles before today. At least not when we've been out in public."
"I know I'm an overbearing asshole about your safety sometimes, but the longer you're here with me, the easier it gets to believe everything will be okay," he confesses. "I still worry about you. I'll always worry about you…but I know you're going to be okay. You're going to be safe and happy and healthy. And I want this for us."
"Want what?"
"This," he says, rubbing his thumb along my jaw. His expression is intense, his blue eyes shining with some emotion I can't name…some emotion that has my breath catching in my throat and sends heat waving through me. "Days like today. I want to be able to take you out and spoil you without looking over my shoulder the entire time. I want to walk along the Boardwalk with you, or make out on the beach. I want everything, Mila."
"I want that too," I whisper.
"Yeah?"
I nod and then bite my lip, my earlier worries floating to the surface of my mind. "Do you think…do you think we'll be able to have the baby in Santa Cruz?"
His gaze sweeps along my face, scrutinizing my expression. "Is that what you want?"
"I do."
"Why?" he asks, and I know it's not one of those questions asked out of mild curiosity, but out of a deep desire to truly understand why this is important to me.
"I thought I knew exactly what my life would look like when I graduated from college," I answer, choosing my words carefully so I get them right. "I'd move in with Damien, and eventually we'd get married and have kids. I'd be a successful literary agent, and my future would be safe and boring, exactly like I always wanted when I was a kid. But then, that night after we went to dinner in Santa Cruz the first time, you dared me to confess what I really wanted: to be with you. You've given me everything I could possibly want every day since then."
"I'll always give you what you want."
I smile because I know he will. "Santa Cruz is your happy place because it's quiet and peaceful. But it's my happy place because it's where you showed me what real happiness looks like, what it feels like. When our daughter gets here, I want to welcome her to the world in the place where I found my home, in the place where my real future finally became clear to me."
He's silent for a long moment, his expression blazing with intensity. "Jesus," he finally whispers, bowing his head like my words discomposed him. When he lifts it again, his eyes shine with moisture. He slides a shaking hand along my jawline, turning my face more fully toward his. "My future became clear to me that night on the patio when you told me you wanted two weeks with me," he says, his tone raspy and so serious. "I held you in my arms and felt like I was home. I knew right then and there that you'd bring me to my knees, baby. Knew you were the only one I'd ever want or need. I'm so fucking glad you told me what you really wanted that night on the beach, because there was no way in hell I was going to be able to let you go after two weeks."
Tears slip down my cheeks unchecked, his words wrecking me in the best way possible.
"You're not the only one who learned what real happiness was in Santa Cruz, sweetheart," he says, brushing my tears away with gentle hands. "I wasn't living before you. I was so focused on surviving and on keeping everyone safe, I forgot what was important. I forgot how to live. I can't wait to bring our little girl into the world where you breathed life back into me."
"Roman," I say on a sob.
"No, baby. You taught me how it feels to really live. It's only right I spend my life making sure you have everything your heart desires. If you want to have the baby in Santa Cruz, we'll have the baby in Santa Cruz. It's that simple."
I nod, crying too hard to force out sound.
He brushes away another round of tears, smiling gently. "I know you've been worried and missing me lately, but I want you to remember that so long as you're happy and healthy, so long as Talia and the baby are happy and healthy, I'm good. I'll never do anything to put myself at risk of losing what's most important to me. I'm doing all of this now so we can both be happy and safe right here. Santa Cruz will always be our special place, but Los Angeles will be our home."
I nod again. He wipes away the rest of my tears and then kisses me softly, sweetly on the lips, the forehead, and both of my cheeks.
"Now," he says when he pulls back, his eyes heated and dark, "do you want to finish this movie, or can I take you to bed and make love to you until you pass out on me?"
"Take me to bed," I whisper without hesitation.
He kisses me on the forehead and then climbs to his feet before picking me up and tucking me against his chest. I wind my arms around his neck, resting my head against his shoulder as he carries me down the hall to the bedroom. My fingers play through the hair at the nape of his neck. A content hum rumbles in his throat.
"I think that's my favorite sound," I murmur.
"You're so damn sweet," he says, laying me out on the bed. His heated gaze rakes over me, lingering on my lacy bra and then trailing down my belly. His eyes darken even more when my hands follow the path his eyes just took…running over my breasts and then down my belly. I slide them back up, my thumbs ghosting over my nipples.
He watches in rapt attention, palming his hard cock through his boxers.
I rake my thumbnails over my nipples, which causes my lower belly to clench. I moan softly and let my legs fall open in silent invitation, knowing he can see the wet spot on my panties since neither of us bothered to get dressed after showering when we got home.
"So damn sexy," he mutters, climbing onto the bed on his knees. He prowls over me, kissing his way up my legs. His teeth sink into my inner thigh, making me cry out in pleasure. A dark chuckle vibrates against my skin, his tongue darting out to tease over his love bite. "God, you smell good," he groans, nudging his nose against the apex of my thigh and inhaling deeply. "Knowing you taste even better when you come all over my face makes me fucking crazy, Mila."
I shiver, pleasure quaking through me. I don't know how he does it, but he always makes me feel so sexy, so desirable. He doesn't hide the fact that he's obsessed with my body or the way I react to him. He holds nothing back and I can't get enough of that. Even if I live to see one hundred, I'll never get enough of it.
"Please," I plead, writhing when he opens his mouth over my mound and runs his tongue across the rapidly spreading wet spot on my panties.
He growls his pleasure, quickly pulling the thin, lacy fabric to the side. His tongue swipes through my folds, making me cry out his name and grasp onto the bedding.
"Fuck. I can't get enough of this cunt," he lifts his head long enough to mumble. And then he goes back to work between my legs. He pulls my lips into his mouth one after the other, releasing them with a loud pop. And then his tongue spears through my folds and circles my clit. "Goddamn."
He tears my panties, easily snapping the strings, and then tosses them off the bed.
I grab his hair, holding on for dear life when he shoulders my legs farther apart and lifts my hips up to bury his face in my pussy. My legs wrap around his head, my back bowing off the bed. Sobs of pure pleasure rip from my lips as he devours me, using his lips and teeth and tongue to drive me wild.
Right when I'm on the edge, he backs off.
I cry out in disappointment, my grip on his hair tightening.
"I like keeping you on the edge," he rumbles, swirling his tongue around my clit in lazy circles. His eyes meet mine, his pupils dilated with desire even though wicked mischief lurks in the blue depths. "I like seeing how much you can take before you break for me. Watching you come when you'r
e wild for it is so fucking good, baby. So good."
"Roman," I whimper, pleading.
"Do you have any idea how many times a day I think about doing the filthiest shit to you?" he asks me, flicking his tongue over my clit in teasing touches. "Someone will say your name in passing, and I immediately see an image of you on your knees with my cock stuffed down your throat…of you screaming for me while I fuck this sexy ass from behind. Fuck, baby. All I have to do is think about you anywhere near my cock, and I'm desperate for anything you'll give me."
"Me too," I moan, writhing beneath him when he squeezes my cheeks in his hands, separating them.
"Every goddamn day, I want you more than the last. I'm fucking obsessed with you, Mila. With this pussy. With your tight little asshole. With the filthy shit you beg me to do to you." He flicks his tongue against my clit more rapidly, almost pulsing it right where I need it. And then he backs off again, burying his entire face in my pussy with a rumbling groan. "All you have to do is turn those big green eyes up at me and spread your legs, and I'll do whatever the fuck you ask of me. I want to die right here, baby, with your juices all over my face and your screams ringing in my ears."
"Roman!"
"I want you as obsessed with my cock as I am with you, Mila," he growls, nipping at my inner thigh before he thrusts his tongue inside me and jiggles it. "I want you so greedy for it, you can't stand it. Want you to live and breathe for this dick and what it does to you."
I score my nails through his hair, scratching at his scalp and then his upper shoulders. Frustration and need course through me in tandem when he fights my attempts to pull him back down to me, refusing to give me what I need to come…and I need to come. So bad. His filthy words are driving me crazy.
"You're my goddess. My soul mate. My fuck toy. Aren't you?"
"Yes!" I scream.
"You'll let me do whatever I want to do to you and love every second of it, won't you?"
"Yes, yes. Please. I need it. Need you." I babble and cry out, pleading for more, pleading for mercy…pleading for whatever he's willing to give me, however he's willing to give it. I'm his, willing to do whatever he wants so long as he keeps making me feel like this. I ache for it. God, I ache so fucking bad.
Desire Me (Her Best Friend's Father Book 4) Page 22