by Cassie Leigh
Just like that, he rolled, and she was on her back, his hard body leaning over her soft one. His lips hovered over hers and he whispered against them. “Don’t rush, beautiful. We’ve got all day and I want to savor you this first time.”
When he put it like that, could she deny this man anything? She’d never felt so special, so cherished as he was making her feel in this moment, with these words. She licked her dry lips and nodded. She couldn’t even speak to answer him, but it was enough.
Roman worked his way down her body—sucking on her earlobe, ravishing her neck, and leaving a trail of kisses between her breasts that had her pulse raging like a storm. He worked her forgotten dress down her hips as he went and slid it down her legs along with her panties, until she was naked for him.
Kneeling between her spread thighs, he looked down at her as if he was memorizing every line of her body. His gaze was a physical thing, like a paintbrush. Adding strokes of color to highlight and create shadow. He looked at her with a lustful gaze that reminded her of the way he looked at art that he envied, only far more intimate.
“I want to mark you.” Roman’s admission came out a possessive growl.
Damn—that was hot. He was already marking her in indelible ways that she could never explain. Why not this way too? But right here, right now, she wanted him to mark her body with his love, make her want no man but him ever. It was a challenge she didn’t even need to give voice to. As her gaze swept from that hungry look on his face, darkened with his five o’clock shadow, down to the hard length of his cock that she’d already had between her painted lips; he would ruin her for any other man.
He lowered himself over her. Spreading her thighs with kisses and the sweet burn of his unshaven cheek against her flesh, he worked his way to her core. He reached back and hooked her knees over his shoulders. Then she felt his hot breath against her. Her thighs shook with her building need, all this waiting. God—she wanted him so bad. She held her breath until the moment his tongue stroked her pussy top to bottom.
Gigi cried out in sweet relief.
Once he began, the tease was over. Whatever fragile strength had acted as his restraint snapped and he ate her like a starving man. He lapped circles around her clit as if he’d been hungry for her from the moment they met. Maybe he had. Lord knew she’d been craving him as long.
Her orgasm built like a gathering storm, sending tremors through her like thunder in the distance. Roman had sent this tempest raging through her. It pulsed inside her pussy and she bucked against him, an echo of what he’d done when she’d sucked him. He slid two fingers inside of her scissoring and then pumping in and out as he concentrated on her clit. Then he sucked on it and her orgasm broke free like lightning, burning through her body. Gigi screamed. Her control gone as she held onto his hair, pressing his face into her.
When she lay spent, her hands fell away and he climbed her body until he claimed her mouth in a kiss that sent another rumbling of thunder echoing through her veins. God—they’d only just started. The taste of her own pleasure on his lips was so naughty, it was just enough for that side of her; the Gigi who usually came out to play. Tonight, that version needed to stay locked away. This man, the man that had given her that pleasure deserved the real woman. He’d be the first to have her with no masks, no rules or boundaries.
Roman reached across the bed, rifling through the pockets of his discarded jeans until he came up with the condom. He held it up like a prize and smiled at her. That smile was so sexy. That smile was just for her. She sat up on her knees as he rolled the condom down his hard shaft. She didn’t deserve this man, but she wanted him anyway.
She crawled across the bed to him as he settled against the headboard. He took her hand and lead her to his lap. She knelt over him and he ran the head of his cock against her primed entrance. He cradled her face with one hand, staring into her eyes. She met his golden gaze with her emerald one, willing her to show him the love that was already building in her. The emotion she didn’t know how to give voice to, just yet.
Gigi leaned her forehead against his. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.” The words were a whisper, as if the admission had ripped from her soul.
She hadn’t even known she was going to say it—didn’t believe she could have. It was as close to a declaration of love as she had ever made. And she did love him. She didn’t know how he’d worked that magic, but somehow, he had captured her in a way no one else ever could have.
He slid into her then, pulling her hips down until she was flush with his, and his hard length fully sheathed inside her. She cried out, eyes squeezed shut.
He ran his thumb over her eyebrow and placed a soft kiss on her lips before speaking. “Hey, open your eyes, beautiful. Look at me while we make love.”
She didn’t know if she could, not after admitting as much as she had. Not with him filling her like this. Gripping her hips, he moved her against him and she gasped, her eyes flying open against her will. So much of what transpired between them seemed to go against the grain. Her hands slid from his shoulders, gliding up his neck. She leaned her forehead against his and moved. Rocking her hips, she rode him. Her movements building to a rhythm that matched the rest of their lovemaking—slow torture. He’d already broken her with the strength of that first orgasm. Now she wanted to break together.
His hands moved over her body, caressing her curves, stoking the fire inside of her higher. “That’s it—take want you want from me.”
“I want it all,” she whispered against his lips.
Then they were moving. Still buried inside of her, he rolled, bringing her down to her back. Now their rhythm changed. Not faster, not yet. Harder. He pulled nearly all the way out and she cried out at the loss—a loss that was filled immediately when he slammed back home.
“Is this what you want, Gigi? Do you want me to take you the way I love you—long and hard?”
Fuck—he loved her and all she could do was moan out an incoherent yes. Did he even know he said it, or was he becoming as drunk on the sex as she was? She didn’t care. Not he didn’t stop.
She wanted them to break together and with each thrust, each smack of his flesh against hers, it came closer to a reality. He slammed into her with his lips on her neck and then sucking her ear lobe, tugging on it with his teeth.
“Come for me, beautiful—I need you to fall with me.” His whispered plea against her neck sent a shiver of pleasure rolling through her as his hand continued working her between their crashing bodies.
It was exactly what she needed. The spasms, the savage relief that came with them broke free, gripping him as he thrust home and held. His body shook over hers. He pulled his hand free, using it to brace his weight off her smaller frame as the shudders of his own release racked his body.
His arms shook with exhaustion, their foreheads pressed together, but for once her eyes were wide-open—taking in the emotion pouring off him. He moved as if to pull away and she wrapped her shaking legs around his waist, pulling him down. Refusing to let him go. It forced him lower, onto his forearms, crushing their sweat-slicked bodies together.
“Not yet.” She needed to hold on just a little longer. Needed him to anchor her.
This—what they had just done—had shaken every previous experience to show them for the lie it all had been. This was real and she needed to savor it just like he’d said. This is what it meant to be more than skin deep.
CHAPTER 12
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ROMAN SHUT THE BATHROOM LIGHT off and padded back to her bedroom. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched Gigi. His gaze drifted down the perfect arch of her body as she raised her arms over her head in a languid stretch. It reminded him of a satisfied cat basking in the sun, or in her case, afterglow. He’d put that sated smile on her face.
She rolled over to face him. “When you stare at me like that, it’s like you’re drawing me in your head or drawing on me. I’m not sure which.”
Crossing t
he room to her, he slid into bed and pulled her into his side “Don’t tempt me, beautiful. Your body is the canvas of my dreams.”
Gigi turned to look up at him, resting one hand over his heart. How was he supposed to play it cool when she looked at him like that? If the look of shock on her face when he’d called her his girlfriend was any indication, she wasn’t ready to talk feelings. Letting the L-word slip during sex was enough of a fuck up for one day. Impending pleasure had a way of loosening a man’s lips.
No—he had a plan to ease her into this nice and slow. He needed to get back on track.
She traced an invisible pattern across his chest as she watched him. “When you were growing up, did you ever take turns with your friends drawing on each other with a pen?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Roman smiled at the memory. “But I actually started with my dad. He worked the night shift opposite my stepmom. He’d lay down on the sofa and ask me if I wanted to give him a tattoo. I’d get out all my pens and markers to draw on him while he took a nap right there.”
Things had been hard after Roman lost his mother, but his father and Ann’s mother had always worked hard to make sure they wanted for nothing, including quality time. When Roman turned sixteen and started running wild, his father had been the one to buy him Inked Magazine. It convinced him that his art skills really could pay the bills and give him some direction, other than booze. His old man had one mission—neither of his kids were ever working in a factory. Mission accomplished.
“My girlfriends and I used to doodle on each other during recess. I always had to hide it from my mother and father.” Her words were wistful, but laced with an underlying sadness.
From the photos he’d glimpsed in her living room last night, he’d assumed her childhood had been a comfortable one; not necessarily a happy one. Her drinking over her father last night and her tone now hinted heavily at that. After all, comfort didn’t always equal easy or happy. As much as he may be tempted to go there and find out more about what drove her to dive into that bottle, he wasn’t ready to leave this blissful state of afterglow.
Gigi glanced up at him and resumed her explanation. “Anyway—it wasn’t fancy art like I’m sure you managed on your Dad. Ours were just silly doodles of hearts and flowers. Sometimes the name of the boy we liked.”
Roman nudged Gigi’s shoulder, encouraging her to sit up. One delicate eyebrow arched up in an unspoken question as she complied.
“Hold that thought,” he urged her as he leaned over the edge of the bed to swipe his jeans off the floor and dig in the pocket. Finding what he needed, he dropped the clothing on the floor and turned, holding up his marker. “Can I draw on you?”
“You seriously carry a marker in your pocket?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
She laughed at his answer and he knew she was in before she started shimmying down the bed to lay out flat for him.
“My body is all yours.”
The innuendo dripping from her words had his cock stirring to life all over again. “Keep it up, Gigi, and we’re gonna be doing something else.”
She licked her lips; eyes locked on his growing erection and grinned. “Promises, promises.”
Roman stared at her, mesmerized. How did she do that to him—take a sweet moment and turn it into a sexually charged need.
Gigi sat up on her elbows. “I thought you were going to give me a Roman Bishop original?” Her expression turned pouty. “Art now—play later.”
He shook his head clear of the building fog of lust. “Yes, ma’am.”
Running the plastic cap down over her curves, he considered the possibilities. She shivered, but otherwise kept still. She’d mentioned she would like something under her breasts. With his current state of arousal that wasn’t a good place to start if he wanted to get through this. If it were permanent, where would he want to mark her? Somewhere she could feel comfortable showing if asked, but also hidden if she dressed up, would suit her best.
When his capped marker reached the curve of her hip, he stopped. The spot was slightly sexual, but not overtly so and fit all his other criteria. Besides, she’d be able to watch him work as he drew. He lifted her knees and draped her legs over his outstretched one. His other knee bent up as he settled into a comfortable position to work.
Roman popped the top off the ultra-fine magenta Sharpie. Yeah, he bought a pink permanent marker. When he’d needed one, the stupid color made him smile. It served as just another reminder of how deeply wrapped up in her he truly felt.
As the felt tip slid across her skin, he had to wonder if her feelings were as twisted up in him. There were moments when he thought so. Since they began, but especially today, the mask she seemed perpetually inclined to wear slipped. It gave him the glimpse he needed to keep moving towards her—to keep loving her. She opened to him readily enough when things got physical, not so much when conversation turned to feelings or where this relationship might lead. If she wasn’t ready to hear him declare his feelings, he’d draw his heart on her skin and show her.
Gigi didn’t speak as he worked, but he felt the weight of her gaze. When he recapped the pen and sat up straight, she sat up, leaning her weight back on her braced hands so that she could get a better look.
He’d drawn a heart symbolic of both of them, like a heart carved into a tree with the initials of two lovers. Instead of their names he’d used things symbolic of who they both were separately, making a more beautiful whole when joined together. On the left half, he’d drawn layered gears like the ones in the shop’s skull logo. On her half, he’d drawn a lace pattern, intricate and sexy, the way he saw her. Along the heart’s right edge, swags of jewels hung like crystal drops from a chandelier.
“It’s beautiful, Roman.” She circled the design, not quite touching the impromptu art with her manicured fingernail.
“Just promise me that if you get one for real, you let me do it.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and looked away from her. “I don’t want anyone else laying a permanent mark on you. I want that privilege for myself.”
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“Let’s do it right now. No one is at the shop.” Gigi pulled away from Roman to sit up on her knees. “I want to keep this forever.”
The marker art on her skin may have started as a playful way to tease one another and enjoy the afterglow of their physical connection, but if she was honest with herself, this was so much more. The thought that it would wash off her skin made her sick. No, she needed to make this last forever.
“If you like it so much, I can draw it on paper for you to add to your art collection.”
“No—not permanent enough.”
She moved off the bed and headed for her dresser. She pulled a pair of panties and bra from the drawer, then bent to slide them up her legs. She was halfway through putting on a clean bra when she turned back to find Roman still sitting in the middle of her bed, watching her.
“Get dressed. I’m serious. I want this,” she said as she finished with the front clasp. “Why aren’t you moving?”
Roman slid across the bed and grabbed his jeans off the floor. “This isn’t something you can take back, Gigi. You have to be sure. I don’t want any regrets later.”
How could she explain this to him? True, she had no tattoos. Before working at the shop, she would have told him that she wasn’t that kind of girl. She learned quickly there was no type. The only requirement was that you had to love art. Those who truly knew her down to her core—and they were few in number—would tell you art was her passion. If there was one thing she appreciated, it was art and the emotions it invoked. This hand-drawn heart undeniably summoned something from her, a sentiment she needed to preserve. More than that, it was about commemorating the first man to ever break through her wall, to make her want to do more than play at arm’s length and then run away.
What Roman didn’t need to know was that any other man would have been kicked from her bed ten seconds after he’d fi
nished unless she thought she might get a round two out of him. Even then, she still might have kicked him on principle. Roman had been the first man she’d ever—cuddled. He held her and she let him. She joked with him, shared a story with him, and did something playful. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d fallen pussy first into a relationship.
Gigi turned to the full-length mirror on the wall, apprising the dark pink ink on her skin. A soft smile played on her lips. “I’d regret it more if I didn’t get it.”
She caught his reflection in the mirror, standing behind her seconds before he gripped her chin and turned her to face towards him, his amber eyes searched hers. Then, bending down to close the distance between them, he grazed her lips with his. The kiss was tender and reverent—a subtle reminder of the night she’d baited him to taste her.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Let’s go get you inked for real.”
They dressed in companionable silence. Her in yoga pants, a pink tank and a soft sweater. Him in last night’s clothes, minus the bow tie and suspenders.
Gigi grabbed her purse off the kitchen island and Roman retrieved her keys. She raised an eyebrow at him with her hand held out.
He dropped them into her palm. “What? How do you think you got home? I couldn’t put you on the back of my bike.”
“Believe me I’m grateful and sorry that you had to take care of me like that.”
“Don’t mention it.” Roman wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a quick kiss. When he pulled back, a satisfied grin stretched across his handsome face. “I like taking care of you.”
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Let’s go.”
Keeping her head down, she walked out the door and out of Roman’s embrace. He followed a few steps behind. So far, he wasn’t pushing about last night and why she’d blown up their plans in favor of self-medicating with wine. Sure, he’d mentioned it, but he hadn’t pushed—yet. How long could that possibly last? She climbed into her tiny car and the passenger door echoed in the small space beside her. By the time she finished backing out of her parking space, she’d made up her mind. It was better to bring this up on her terms and now was her best opportunity. Right now, she could control.