There. Not a bad deflection from why he really couldn’t share his authorly news with her.
“I understand that, I guess.” Then she smiled with set teeth, her silly excited expression, and pulled her phone out. “So, what’s it called? Now that I know your books exist, I’ve got to check—”
“Western omelet and a Farmer’s Sampler?” a different server asked, bearing their steaming plates of food.
Thank you! He raised his finger, grateful for the easy escape. Zoe tucked into her food as well. Much to his relief, she refrained from interrogating him too precisely about his short-lived—so far—career in books. In relaxed companionship, they ate with little need to interrupt each other between each bite.
Finished with their food and neither of them red-cheeked from the gusts outside anymore, they sat nursing coffees. Silence had yet to get awkward, but now he had nothing to buffer his attention on her. No need to leer, but, well, he’d never had many opportunities to simply be with her. Facing her.
After wiping her lips, she took a deep breath. “I’ve gotta say, this isn’t how I imagined tonight was going to turn out.”
He sat up from slouching and sighed.
“I pep-talked my sweet little ass the whole time I got ready. This was going to be it. The night we’d finally sit down and talk. I’d planned to ask him if he still wanted to get married. If we were meant to be.”
There was nothing for him to say. Pity wasn’t a prescription he handed out.
“I feel kind of … gypped.” Her laughter was strained following the complaint. “I rehearsed exactly how I’d word it. Offer to end the engagement if it wasn’t what we both wanted. And then … boom. Done.”
“You deserve much more, Zee.”
She leveled her gaze at him. “Oh, yeah?”
Shifting in his seat, he leaned his forearms on the table in an attempt to make their conversation more private than a chat within the bustle of the diner’s crew cleaning tables and banging pots in the kitchen. “You deserve a man who actually listens to you when you speak.”
She nodded faintly.
“A man who wouldn’t care about whether you’re wearing designer clothes or thrift shop finds.”
She leaned closer, too.
“Because he’d know the true beauty lies underneath.”
Her blue stare widened, and her cheeks turned rosy.
All right, he’d meant looks only mattering skin-deep and all, but if she wanted to twist his words like that, still true. He’d imagined her without clothes so many times, he felt he knew this truth firsthand.
“Someone who’d go insane without being with you night after night.”
He watched as her tongue peeked out to trace her lips.
“And I mean certifiably psycho to stay away for months.”
Laying his hands flat on the tabletop, he paused before running with his speech, thrilled by her reaction. “Someone who would appreciate every inch and sweet curve of your body…”
Her throat tightened in a swallow, and she parted her lips.
So, she wasn’t a client. And they’d declared friendship long ago. Didn’t give him license to play with some kind of seduction like this.
“Yeah?” she whispered.
Can’t stop now.
“Someone who’d tease filthy promises from your lips and grant every sin you wished.”
Short inhales informed him she’d started to nearly pant.
“Someone who’d—”
“One bill or separate?” the same burly server from before asked. Awfully rude of her to interrupt, again, but with the growing ache in his dick, he couldn’t have asked for better timing.
“I’ll take it.” He repositioned his legs to both adjust the tension in his pants and to extract his wallet from his pocket. “Just a sec.” Money in hand, he transferred the bills to the server. “Keep the change.”
Alone again, after the waitress thanked him for the tip, Roman found Zoe sucking water through her straw like she’d run a mile. Her cheeks hollowing out only served to worsen the hold of the visual in his mind.
Okay. Maybe the cold will help.
“Ready to go?” he asked with what he hoped was an innocent smile, wishing his voice didn’t come out that rough.
“I hope so,” she mumbled. She tipped her lips into an almost smile and blinked. “After you.”
Chapter Four
Instead of heading through an interior entrance to Roman’s building’s lobby, they had to return to the February freeze for a brisk walk to his front door. For the first time that night, she felt blessed to have the shot of iciness to chill her. Anything to halt the melting mess his words ignited in her.
Every inch and sweet curve…
He let go of her hand so he could key in his entry to the building.
Grant every sin…
With his voice naturally deep and husky, she’d always had to second guess whether he’d been hitting on her when picking her up and driving her. Now she knew. As she followed him into the warmth of his bare lobby, she knew the difference.
When Roman flirted with her over that antique table and put erotically charged and open-ended possibilities in her head, he’d lowered that sexy voice into something of a caress. A skillful torment that only dragged her deeper and deeper into wanting him.
Wanting Roman. Her chauffeur—no, her friend. How could he simply be a friend?
“This way,” he directed as he went for the elevator around a corner.
She stepped into the elevator, still unable to meet his eyes, and took a deep breath. “What about what you deserve?”
Of all things to say or ask, it shot out of her lips first.
His finger paused midway to the buttons on the panel, and he pivoted to face her. “What do you mean?”
She stepped back to the wall to brace herself from his dark and smoldering stare.
“For tonight?” In general? How can he not be taken? Already invited to Valentine’s with some lucky woman? Why is he being so damn sweet to a … former client?
He smiled then, gently, and resumed calling for his floor. Then he shrugged, not glancing over to her again. “I only planned to eat dinner and catch up on some book stuff. Admin. Emails.”
And she’d be keeping him from it. Part of her anticipated him continuing with the spell he’d cast on her after their meal. Hinting at intimacy and all kinds of nakedness.
Maybe he really was just being rhetorical. And sweet. And sexy. And—
“I don’t want to interfere.” She pulled her coat tighter together, seeking some comfort in at least its warmth. Being left to herself and her own devices wouldn’t be anything new. Six months of basically being single in engagement readied her for lonely nights. She wasn’t sure how much more loneliness could suck when she’d, in fact, be near another man, at his place.
Especially after him taunting her with the ideal of a man she could only wish existed for her.
A man she’d long thought might be … him.
“Interfere?” He flinched back and faced her then. “Never.” The single step he took toward her swayed her into desperation for more. More of those sensual words and heavy gazes. “Why don’t you try to have your comfy night after all? I don’t have any PJs, but I’ll find something to get you out of that dress.”
She inhaled sharply, and his lips stilled. His eyes didn’t exactly widen, but hearing the words get you out of that dress must have sounded like an intimate promise to him, too.
“Um … I’ll get something for you to wear. I’ve got some white chilling in the fridge. And you could borrow a book…”
He was describing her idea of a good night in. Like she’d mentioned when Roman first told her Aiden had planned a Valentine’s dinner.
“You know what?” She smiled and nodded once as the elevator arrived at his floor. “That sounds perfect.”
And I know just what I’ll read.
Without many words beyond the necessary, Roman unlocked his apartment, let
her in, and gave her the one-minute tour that covered all the space of his small one-bedroom. Awkwardness seemed to encroach between them for the first time since she’d met him, and she put extra effort into appearing at ease.
She’d changed into the t-shirt he’d provided and tugged on a pair of socks. All the personal items she cared about would need to be moved from Aiden’s penthouse. Where to, she hadn’t had time or motive to think about yet, but she’d get her belongings sometime after tonight. For now, she was content to bask in the odd comfort of the garment that hung past her knees and the socks that rumpled in folds along her calves.
Let’s see him ramble the romantic and sexy lines now. She rolled her eyes and exited his bathroom.
He’d just set a glass of wine on the coffee table when she entered the room. Before he turned to her, he patted a blanket on the couch.
If she’d thought his attention from before could charge her libido, she couldn’t have been ready for the gaping grunt he barely stifled as he stared at her. From her toes to her still insane mess of hair, he dragged his gaze over…
Every inch and sweet curve.
She closed her eyes at the memory of his naughty words and blinked them open again.
“I’ll…” Another grunt and quick step around to stand behind the couch. He gripped the tops of the cushions as he looked everywhere but at her. “I’ll just go and take care of…” He walked away, toward the bedroom. “My laptop’s in there.” Pausing, he seemed to realize he was nearly running and hardly speaking coherently. With a jerk of his thumb toward the opposite wall, he said, “You can help yourself to anything on the shelf. Or TV.” Another point to the table. “Whatever you want. I’ll try not to take too long.”
“No worries. I’ve got my e-reader app synced on my phone.” She shuffled toward the cozy haven he’d created for her on his couch and let a wicked smile curve her lips. “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.”
“Okay.” His sigh sounded like a balloon that failed to deflate. “I’m not used to having anyone over. Sorry if I’m being rude.”
“No, no.” She sat down and waved him off, unlocking her phone with her other hand. “Go ahead.”
He left then, apparently appeased enough to hide.
As soon as her phone home screen lit up, she pulled up a search for, she hoped, his books.
He’d weaseled out of telling her the titles. Why, she had no clue. He used to seem so excited to chat with her about his goals for storytelling. It still stung that he’d kept it a secret for so long, but the secrecy only made it more tempting to seek out.
Hmm. He’d been picky with what he shared over their dinner, but she’d squeezed some details from him before he’d switched to declaring what she deserved.
Epic fantasy. She had the genre, at least. But so many options pulled up. If she had the catalog tools for a search like she would on the clock at the library, she’d probably be able to hunt faster.
He said he’d been making enough income to afford his monthly expenses, so he couldn’t be ranked too low in seller lists…
Typing in his name pulled up an oddball assortment of author names and titles, but she finally found jackpot under the pen name of M.T. Roman. A series of shorter length fantasies. Giddiness tickled her as she bought and downloaded the first one. As she waited for it to load, she glanced up at Roman’s closed bedroom door, feeling a little sneaky to find his books.
Well, anyone could read his books, right? Why not her?
So she nestled into the fuzzy blanket, reclined against the couch’s pillows, and set her phone on her lap. Then read. And read some more until a blinding realization punched her in the gut so hard she gasped.
Princess Zolinae. As far as fantasy saga names went, all right. It was exotic and out there. But had he named her, this bold, challenging, and gorgeous elf princess … after me?
Zoe. Zolinae.
She pursed her lips, frowning as she considered the odds of it being a coincidence. Yet as she read on, she came upon the real kicker. It was a dawning fact she gleaned between the lines that spelled out the beginning of a love interest. A mutual admiration and earnest affection that had too many obstacles between the hero and this princess not seemingly named after her. But actually named after her.
Zee. This lovestruck main character pined for Princess Zolinae, fondly shortened to Zee.
Breathing fast, she couldn’t even compute stringing sentences together.
Zee.
This man—character’s—love for Zee.
How long she stared at the screen of letters, she couldn’t say. Frozen, shocked, and mostly in awe, she couldn’t read on.
For how long she’d restrained and dismissed those flutters of interest for Roman. All those nudges of attraction she couldn’t even consider as Aiden’s fiancée.
All that time, it’d been true for her, and only now could she face it.
Roman had been the man she deserved, and he’d felt the same?
At the deafening loud click of his door opening, she jumped. Bounced up to land on her feet, actually. The blanket fell to the floor, but she maintained her hold on her phone as she gaped at him.
He’d changed, too, into sweats and a fitted t-shirt, proving her imagination had been spot on. Muscles weren’t hidden as well in his lounge clothes as they had been in his suits. Before she could allow herself to get drunk on the mere visual of him, all tall, dark, and too sinfully sexy, she cleared her throat. Keeping her gaze locked on his, she asked, “Zee?”
He ceased entering the room and simply stared.
She raised her hand to show him she’d been reading on her phone and asked again, “Zee?”
Was it a joke? A tease? A … confession?
While he still didn’t reply, he stepped further into the living room, his footfalls silent on the carpet.
“How long?” She choked on a breath.
“How long have I wanted you?” he finished for her. “Loved you? Dreamed of you?”
A lump sat in her throat above her racing heart.
Want. Love. Dream. Roman did those—for her. Breathing fast enough was an impossibility.
Then he shrugged a shoulder. “Since I first met you.”
And he’d kept his secret, this unrequited love all this time, stronger over time, even, to pen several best-selling fictions about it. That was why he’d never told her? Because it was a saga, a search for her?
“You couldn’t have told me?” she demanded with a step closer to him, dropping her phone to his couch.
Bewilderment that he’d had feelings for her over two years receded as logic returned. Only tonight had he even had the freedom to share his sentiments with her.
“You couldn’t have told me,” she confirmed, ashamed at her outburst.
He still stayed quiet, watching her.
And he might not have come right out and informed her of his passion for her, given how stubbornly he withheld details about his books all night.
Now that she knew…
Possibilities, illicit and dangerously hot ideas flooded her mind. All those repressed desires and flickers of yearning she’d dismissed all that wasted time Aiden had a claim on her. Swallowing roughly, she pulled her stare from her tossed phone and eyed him. “How does it end?” When he furrowed his brow, she added, with a jerk of her head to the still-open e-book screen, “The book.”
His dark gaze shifted to the screen, and he narrowed his eyes. “The first one? In a cliffhanger.”
“Okay, the whole series. Does he get the girl? In the end?”
A ghost of a smile teased his lips, and she shivered under the spell of a promise. She couldn’t actually ask him if he was still interested. His focus showed her he was. But would he admit it, finally, to her face? When he shrugged, she almost huffed in frustration. “Well, I’ve only written half of the series…”
Infuriating tease.
“Have you considered this for a plot twist yet?” she asked as she approached him. There was nothing slow
about it. Gradual wouldn’t do. In one fluid rush, she reached him, cradling his face and pulling his lips down to hers in a single move.
She swallowed his grunt, either a reaction to the spontaneity of her action or a visceral follow-up to the need she demonstrated. Their first kiss began slowly, a warm, welcoming meeting of new territory that exploded into so much more. His demanding exploration of her mouth, her insistent request for harder as she sucked his tongue.
All marks of time disintegrated as she let herself sink into his touch, his rumbles of appreciation and groans of neediness. Lip-locked, she flew on the magic and unprecedented high of losing her control with a man and anticipating even headier peaks of belonging to another.
He gripped her ass, hoisting her up to him. In response, she snaked her arms around his neck and tunneled her hand through his thick hair, gripping hard. Clinging so tightly together, there was no chance to avoid the aching friction of his erection against her core.
On a raspy exhale, he pressed his forehead to her temple, and she grinned, licking her lips, savoring his taste.
“I might have…” He inhaled deep. “Planned for them to finally kiss. But I imagined something more like this, too.” His words were a growling whisper as he lowered them to the couch, rolling so that she lay under him. Holding her hands above her head, he took her lips in a kiss again. As soon as she’d arched up to meet him, he traced hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and neck, descending until he took one hardened nipple in between his lips.
Keening at the pressure, she writhed and grew impatient as he nipped and swirled his tongue around her bud, wetting the t-shirt until it felt as drenched as her panties. Trapped in his one hand, she closed her eyes once he brought his free hand to mold and squeezed her other breast. Not one to stay idle, she wrapped her legs around his waist and ground her hips up toward his erection.
“Roman,” she begged.
He brought his head up, pecking kisses along her neck and cheek before looking her in the eye.
“Please.”
Six months she’d gone without any intimacy. A year and a half more she’d been without lovemaking. He could not expect her to last long without combusting under his drugging kisses and rough yet gentle ministrations.
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