by Cassie Leigh
This could go so wrong—the errant thought made him hesitate. He needed her to cross the last hurdle. He wanted her but just as she said, he was still her boss and her best friend’s brother—not that any of it bothered him or would stop him. If it mattered to her, then she needed to be the one to decide. For the sake of his own heart that had been smashed when he once thought he had everything, he needed to know she was all in with him.
He handed her the control and when her eyes widened he knew that she knew. He felt her little fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans and she used it to pull him down on his knees between her spread thighs. For the most painfully slow moment of his life, she stared back at him, waiting or testing. He had no idea which. As long as she kissed him, he didn’t really give a fuck.
“Screw it. I’m going down happy.” The words were a groan and there was no time to process what she meant because her lips were on his and he had his green light.
She tasted like the cherry cola she’d been sipping on all day. It was his new favorite soda because on her it was fucking amazing. This was not the soft and sweet taste they’d had before. The longing burning in his gut since that night drove him to claim her mouth with bruising force. When she opened up to groan her approval, he let his tongue delve deep. She met him, stroking his questing tongue with her own—and damn if that didn’t crank him up more.
As if that wasn’t enough, her hands were making him crazy. She’d run her sly little fingers up the inside of his shirt and alternated between teasing light touches and grazing his ribs and back. With a gasp, he pulled back for air and a little sanity. She whimpered as they parted and that little sound jacked him up—just like everything else about her.
“Roman—please don’t stop.”
Had kissing ever been this hot—had anything? They weren’t even into the heavy petting yet. If she was game, it was time that changed. He ran wet, teasing kisses along her jaw, and worked his way down to her neck.
“Not yet, beautiful,” he promised between kisses that he wished would brand both her skin and soul as his. “I’m only stopping if you want me to.”
She moved her hands to his face, drawing him back to her welcoming and now kiss-swollen lips.
Roman moved his hands up the outside of her spread thighs, stroking the soft material of her leggings. He continued moving his hands north to her hips and up the soft plain of her stomach. When his thumbs grazed the lace of her bra through the material of her shirt, he stopped his progress. She was having none of that. Arching into his hand, she moaned her approval as he palmed one breast and then the other, slowing the frantic pace they’d started.
Every one of her lush curves felt like perfection in his hands, making his cock ache for more. If he wanted this to be more than just tonight, he was going to have to walk a fine line. He needed to find the sweet spot between a fling with the boss that she’d regret and craving another touch. She was such a wild card and he didn’t like games—just her.
Roman pulled back from their kiss, resting his forehead on hers. “I don’t want to rush this. You’re worth more than that, but damn if I’m not hungry.”
“Just a little more then.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, reflecting the longing that raged inside of him. “Please, just a little more.”
He stared into the green fire of her pleading eyes. It reminded him of absinthe in a crystal glass through the filter of candlelight. Specific as that was, he’d had that thought ever since the moment he first looked into her penetrating gaze. Their ability to intoxicate him exceeded the power of the green fairy. He knew he should stop right here, but if she wanted more, did he really have the will power to deny her anything?
Gigi gripped his white shirt. She turned on the chaise, reclining back and pulling him with her so that he lay pressed against her, cradled between her open thighs. He braced one hand on the seat to keep his full weight from crushing her. Then she rocked her hips up, the heat of her sex scorching his hard cock through all their fabric barriers. This hitch in her breath as she rubbed herself against him, working herself over—just damn. He simply didn’t have the words for the answering fire it drove in him, but if she was going to cum it wasn’t going to be from dry humping. He wanted to control that release. Needed to be the reason she found her pleasure—not just a tool she used to get off.
“I want to touch you, beautiful.” He was asking a lot considering they’d only just opened the flood gates with their first real kiss, but she was a woman in firm control of her sexuality. If anyone could handle his request, it was Gigi. Her demanding little hips were practically begging him for it now.
Her lips spread into a soft yet teasing smile. “Yes, please.”
Roman took her mouth; this time he took her slow and deep. There was no need for the frantic rush between them right now. He shifted his weight out to the side, leaving the cradle of her thighs. His right hand began the teasing glide down her body. He let it trail downward across still covered breasts and her soft tummy with a feathery touch.
She raised her hips and with one hand attacked the leggings that stood as a barrier between his touch and her body. He smiled against her lips as she struggled and kicked the fabric between them until she was free.
When he lifted his lips from hers and looked down the length of her body, his satisfied smile spread. She had kicked her flats to the floor and her leggings lay in a heap on top of them. She was beautiful from her pink polished toes up the curve of her calves and thighs, to the white lace panties still hiding her sex. Her right leg bent up at the knee, pressed against him as he lay with his back to the wall. Her other leg dangled over the edge of the chaise.
He slipped his hand inside her panties, cupping her hot sex. Gigi bucked against his hand and moaned as he inserted one long finger, stroking slowly to spread her silky wetness.
“Is this where you want me?”
She tightened around his finger, answering with her body. When she relaxed again, he added a second, pumping slow and easy. He pulled out of her and stroked upward, pressing flat against her swollen clit. He rubbed the engorged bundle of nerves in lazy circles before moving down again to slip back inside her. He alternated back and forth like this, picking up the pace slightly with each pass until he found a rhythm that had her moaning and bucking beneath his hand.
“Roman.” He loved his name on her lips. Her voice was whining, pleading with him to finish her without actually saying the words.
“I’ve got you, beautiful. Just a little bit more.”
He curled the two fingers pumping inside of her up, to find that spot, the internal nerve center that would drive her pleasure higher. He knew when he’d found it because her sex clamped down around him, demanding him not to move. When he began working her clit with the pad of his thumb, she came undone.
The nails of her right hand dug into his shoulder where she gripped him as her hips bucked and her sex pulsed around his fingers. She bit down on her plump pink lip, holding herself back as she groaned loudly. Watching her cum was the most beautiful art he’d ever made. Damn if he didn’t want to do it all again, until she didn’t hold herself back, until she screamed her pleasure as uninhibited as her earlier laughter had been.
Not tonight.
As the pulses slowed, the tension in her body bled out and she went limp under his touch. Gently he pulled his fingers from her soft folds and her now ruined panties.
“Now can I take you to dinner?”
Gigi’s laughter was immediate and without reserve. “Yes, Roman. After the way you played me, you can have anything you want. Better hurry up and take advantage.”
“Dinner’s enough for now.”
CHAPTER 7
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HOW COULD ANYONE RESIST SOMETHING this intense? Gigi hoped Ann would understand because it had been a foolish promise from the onset. She hadn’t meant to kiss him in the gallery or the insane orgasm he’d given her afterword, surrounded by the artwork he’d created. Gigi’s rules were a
flimsy fortification at best in the face of their ongoing flirtation; they may as well have been straw because he was the big bad wolf.
She only meant to flirt before continuing with gentle resistance. She also didn’t regret that it happened and wouldn’t let him either. She owned her actions without shame or hesitation. She had since the first liberating fling. Roman would be no different, at least not that way. The need to prove that fact had her sitting across from him in this little restaurant sharing a piece of lemon cream cake. Another rule bites the dust—dinner dates and sex did not go together when you don’t do relationships. Her date might get the wrong idea.
Hours of shared laughter and life stories over a bottle of wine and divine pasta had gone a long way towards lighting up the darkened corners of her soul. When she met up with her gentleman callers, it was sex and nothing else. No dinner after or talking softly while holding hands. Right now, her left hand stretched out across the table, his fingers entwined with hers—another broken rule for the tally. Was this what relationships were supposed to be like? If so, she could become addicted. Which was exactly why she should put the brakes on whether she wanted to or not, before it was too late. That was the whole point of the rules.
“Penny for your thoughts?” His low words and dark eyes burned across the candlelit table between them with warmth and a hint of concern.
She offered him a thin smile and a spoonful of cake, which he claimed from her with a deliberate slowness that felt like a sensual promise. “This is nice, being with you like this.” She couldn’t quite keep the breathy note of longing from her voice, but she gave it a valiant effort.
“This isn’t the only date I’m ever taking you on.” She looked away and he reached out, turning her face back towards his so that his dark eyes could probe hers. “We don’t have to label this yet.”
Still, there were things he deserved to know. “I might seem like it, but I’m not the kind of girl you take home. You see that, right. You see past the front and the limit that puts on us?”
Roman was quiet, just looking back at her. His expression was openly appraising. So much so that his gaze was more like a physical touch, gliding across her cheek and then her open collar, searching out the small bare pieces of her. She held perfectly still, allowing him to take his fill while she siphoned off her open pleasure from the visual caress. It took the edge off the needling voice her anxiety raised over this newness.
“I see that it limits you.” His voice was low and somehow challenging without losing the gentle persuasion that got her this far. “I see you. Not the things you’ve done. I’m not interested in that. Just interested in you.”
Her shoulders slumped with relief. His head tilted and his eyes narrowed in thought or confusion at her reaction. She didn’t want to worry him, not yet. She wanted to enjoy him just a little longer. It wasn’t fair but she was ultimately a creature selfish with her pleasures.
Wisely, he changed the subject to safer ground and he slid his cash into the black leather folder for the check. “Tell me about your name. It’s unique like you. So I’m sure there has to be a story there.”
They rose from the table and he helped her with her coat before they walked to the door. The restaurant they’d chosen was in easy walking distance to her place. It was enough to make her steps drag to prolong the evening.
The stars were bright in the cloudless ink overhead. Even the glow from the street lamps couldn’t hide all of the tiny pinpricks of light. She lifted her face to the sky, soaking them in as Roman slipped an arm around her waist. Instantly she felt his warmth chasing away the slight chill in the air. It may be uncommonly warm for March, but enough bite remained to remind you spring may be coming but it wasn’t here yet.
“You still haven’t answered me.” He prompted as they started down the sidewalk.
Gigi leaned her head against his shoulder. “There’s a little something to it,” she admitted at last. “My mother loves all things French. Her favorite movie is Gigi. It’s about a young French woman who falls in love with a wealthy family friend. She transforms herself so they can be together. Only he doesn’t like what she turns herself into. He loves her for who she’s always been.”
“That’s beautiful, like you.” He whispered it against her temple and placed a soft kiss there.
She shrugged. “I wish my name was something more normal like my brother John Jr.”
Roman stopped and grabbed her arm, spinning her to face him. “Gigi, you’re special and your name reflects that. Nothing else would have fit. I think your mother knew exactly what she was doing.”
How did a heart not melt with words like that? It couldn’t. She was in so much trouble.
The kiss that went with that declaration was reverent and soft even as it built in intensity. When he pulled back, she was dizzy with the intoxicating scent of his aftershave and the swirling hormones he’d sent buzzing through her system all over again. He pulled her back into his side and she was blinking in confusion as they resumed their walk to her place. She was still in a daze when she realized they were standing in front of her building.
Oh god—was he going to kiss her again. She really hoped he would kiss her again.
Would everyday be like this if they were together for real? She could see dinners and dates at the art history museum. Snuggling in bed late in the morning. She would cook him breakfast and they’d make love in the shower. Were these things he would want too? She needed all of that with a sudden wave of intensity that left her reeling. She never dreamed of anything like this. It had never been in the cards of her imagined anything, but now it wouldn’t stop playing on repeat in her mind’s eye. She could burn her little book for a man like Roman. She could do it only for Roman.
Gigi leaned against the doorframe, as she had the other night. He held her like a woman and not like a toy. She hadn’t known there would be a difference until he showed her tonight. She liked it. Roman braced a hand over her head and brought his lips crashing down on hers, stealing a moan from low in her throat. God, the things this man made her feel. Warm slick need already spread through her core, further adding to the ruin of her favorite pair of lace panties.
He pulled back, leaning his forehead against hers. Already it turned into a familiar gesture—one she enjoyed. Perhaps like her, he needed a break from the thing building between them but couldn’t stand to sever contact.
“Goodnight, Gigi.”
“It doesn’t have to end here,” she whispered, her pulse racing with the urges he kept bringing to life inside of her. “You could come upstairs.”
Roman groaned. His face contorted in a wince of pain. “God, I’d love that, but not tonight.”
Now it was her turn to groan in pain. God, her pussy already ached with need. He hadn’t even gotten off when he’d played her body earlier. She couldn’t imagine why he’d deny them both like this.
“I know, beautiful, but I told you I don’t want to rush this more than I already have.”
He took her lips again in a burning kiss as he moved to shield the view of her body from the street. He reached between them, cupping her sex, rubbing her through the thin material of her leggings. Her already primed body, flush with need and the denial he’d flung up between them, shuddered immediately with the contact. Dear god—he’d brought her to an immediate climax, fully clothed, right there on the goddamned street, swallowing her scream of pleasure with his kiss.
It barely took the edge off.
“Better now, baby?” he asked as he laid teasing kisses along her jaw.
Her own question came out breathless as she tried and failed not to pant like a bitch in heat under his ministration. “What about you?”
Roman leaned back, smiling that sexy leer at her. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that. But I want to take care of you.”
He stepped back from her as he took his hands off her body. “Then you have something to look forward to on our next date.”
“Sneaky bastard,” she muttered as he started back up the sidewalk away from her.
His deep laughter split the night but he kept right on walking.
This evening went so sideways. Gigi sighed and let herself into the building before dashing up the stairs to her second floor apartment. Her keys were in the door when her phone dinged with an incoming message. She smiled. He couldn’t even make it home before he messaged her. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Let him sweat it out a minute.
She kicked the door closed behind her and shucked her jacket, letting it drape haphazardly on one of the magenta pink club chairs. Yes pink—no doubt Roman would have had a laugh about that if he’d come up. That assumed he’d have a chance to look. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she dropped into the emerald green sofa.
This was her fun room and her bright furniture her first adult purchase. Her apartment should have been the one place she could pull back the curtain and be totally unreserved. She held her ground—mostly. Her mother decorated the bedroom—the polar opposite Iceland—as a gift. Really it was a direct response to her father’s appalled reaction to the way Gigi had done her living room. They’d dropped by unexpectedly and the next thing she knew boxes from West Elm started showing up. Another not so subtle attempt to direct her life in the direction her father felt most appropriate.
Gigi’s head lolled back against the cushions, arms flung out wide, with her feet up on the walnut coffee table. Her mind wandered into the happy randomness in the odd gallery arrangement of paintings climbing every bare wall in her living room. It wasn’t random. Not really. The logic behind it had more to do with the unseen, the reason she chose those pieces over so many other options. This was her happy place. Her art. She’d gone so far as to paint her walls a brighter white than the basic that the landlord had done, to better highlight her collection. The result being a bright wave of colors large and small to make her smile—her adult version of an infant’s mobile—a vibrant distraction.