by Alexis James
“Of course I’d do that. Emmy is a sweetheart and we never get to see her anymore now that she’s back at school.” She takes my hand. “I’ll call Sabrina right now and get things arranged. Okay?”
Out of my chair, I’m pulling her roughly into my arms and hugging the breath out of her until Cruz steps out of his office and snaps, “She’s pregnant, you Neanderthal. Be gentle with her.”
Loosening my hold on his wife, I press my lips to her temple. “Ah man, Mia, I’m so sorry, but you’ve just made me so damn happy.”
“I’m fine,” Mia replies, rolling her eyes at her husband. “Contrary to what Cruz believes, I won’t break.” She slides her small hand into his. “I’m inviting Emmy for the weekend to give Roman and Sabrina some alone time.”
Cruz smirks. “Good. Maybe then you’ll stop being such a horse’s ass to everyone.”
“Pot meet kettle,” I drawl.
Mia, well-schooled in the art of ignoring the Moran men when they try to outsmart one another, waves us both off and settles back behind her desk. “Shoo, both of you. I need to call Sabrina.”
“Sweetness, I owe you.”
She grins at me. “Oh yes you do. And I won’t let you forget it.”
Cruz leans over and whisper-yells, “Roses work.”
“Good to know. Thanks, man.”
I wait an hour pacing a hole in my office floor. Then I vault up the stairs two at a time until I’m standing in her office doorway. She shoots me a wide grin and flashy blue eyes, whispering, “Friday night until Sunday dinner.”
“Fuck yeah,” I whisper.
We both burst out laughing at the teenagers we are until I finally settle across from her in my usual seat. “Other than the obvious…” I wag my brows at her “…is there anything you want to do? Any place you want me to take you?”
“Can we not make plans?”
I hear what she’s saying. She needs to get me alone as much as I need it and pretending like we both want to sit at a restaurant and make small talk isn’t gonna cut it. I make a mental note right then and there to fill my fridge and cupboards so there’s no reason for us to leave unless we want to.
“That’s perfect.”
We sit there grinning at one another for long minute until the ringing of her phone interrupts us and I take my leave. After placing an order for three dozen long-stemmed roses for Mia, I jot down a few things I don’t want to forget and can finally, finally concentrate on work for change.
Forty-eight hours later I’m pacing my living room and waiting for her to arrive. She was due here twenty minutes ago and as I watch the minutes tick on by, I start to panic. Then I start to get pissed. Then I really start to get worried. Pace, pace, check the clock. Pace, pace, check my phone. Back and forth and back and forth I go, pacing and checking and driving myself crazy, until I’m so damn fixated on what I’m doing I don’t even hear the knock at the door.
Thank God she knocks again. Thank God she’s standing there, greeting me with a broad smile, wearing a form-fitting black dress and spikey heels, blond curls spilling over her shoulders. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re so worth it.” Dropping a light kiss on her lips, I take her small overnight bag from her fingers and set it aside, close and lock the door, then turn to fully assess her again.
She’s dressed for a night out. Dressed to kill, I surmise as I take her fingers in mine and encourage her to twirl so I can see the entire package. Speaking of package, mine is doing a good job of saying “Hello, how are you,” something I attempt to tamp down as I look her over. Damn, she’s beautiful, especially when she’s dressing to please me, although to be fair I prefer her in nothing at all.
“I wanted to look nice. Took me longer than I’d planned,” she states, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“You’re gorgeous.” I desperately need to tear that dress off her and fuck her so hard we both forget our names. After six weeks of waiting she deserves a little romance, a little care, a whole hell of a lot more than “hey baby, jump on my cock.”
Silently, I pull down glasses and open a nice bottle of red. She watches me intently, blue eyes curious and wide. If I had to guess she’s probably asking herself why I haven’t jumped her. I’m a little predictable that way. But for once, I want to be the gentleman she deserves, for now anyway. Later on when we’re in bed, or on the floor, or up against a wall, I’ll be more than happy to remind her how “inappropriate” I can be.
Filling both glasses, I hand one over then pull out the plate of appetizers I had warming in the oven. I may not know a lot about cooking, but I do know that sustenance is required for what I’ve got planned later on, as is a good amount of patience. “Let’s go outside,” I suggest, and she follows dutifully, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Once we’re seated and both munching away on the snacks, I raise my glass to her. “To us. For some well-deserved alone time.”
Sabrina grins at me and taps her glass against mine. “Oh I will definitely drink to that.”
“How’s Emmy?”
“So excited to be able to spend time with Mia. They have a list of things they’re doing together.” She starts to laugh. “Poor Cruz. I guess he’s going to get a taste of what it’s like when a mom spends all her time with her child.”
“Serves him right,” I mutter.
“Amita is coming over to spend the night too. They are gonna watch movies.” She thinks for a moment. “Some Cary Grant movie that Mia likes. And Phantom of the Opera, which Amita says is her favorite.” With a shrug she glances my way. “Your family is so sweet to do this for us.”
“Well, to be honest I think they might have been worried I was going a little crazy.” Flinching, I reply, “I sorta lost my shit in front of Mia. Poor girl felt sorry for me.”
She giggles. “If it’s any conciliation, I lost my shit in front of Jack a few times.”
Our eyes meet. “You did?”
She nods. “Oh yeah.” Her brow lifts. “You’re not the only one needing …”
“… to fuck?” I suggest helpfully.
Her laughter rings happily. “Exactly.” Kicking off her heels, she folds her legs under her ass. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to just sit here with you and not worry about being interrupted.” Glancing up, her eyes meet mine. “I’ve missed you.”
My heart tumbles happily in my chest. “I’ve missed you too.” Motioning her closer, we lean toward one another and share a soft kiss, then with a tug on her free hand I pull her over and onto my lap. She settles in against my chest, head tucked into my neck as my hand skims the length of her silk-covered calf. Damn, she’s beautiful and whatever scent she’s wearing is doing crazy things to my senses. So is the touch of her body against my palm and the feel of her ass pressed down on my cock. But my heart is what’s feeling the brunt of the emotional overload, pounding away happily for the first time in weeks.
Is this what love feels like? Because if it is, count me in. Life may be crazy and chaotic and unpredictable but having these few minutes alone with her nestled in my lap makes every hassle of the past six weeks’ worth it … and then some. Nothing could make me happier than keeping her right here forever. But since that’s not even remotely possible, I’ll take whatever I can get. She’s damn perfect in every single way.
Sabrina sets down her glass, does the same with mine, and gathers my hand in hers, stroking her thumb over my fingers. “It shouldn’t be this difficult for us to find time together.” A heavy sigh escapes her mouth, and she snuggles in closer. “I’m sorry.”
Tipping my head to the side, my eyes find hers. “What are you sorry for? None of this is your fault. This is life.” The words sound convincing, but even I know we’ve both allowed a lot of shit to interfere with us. “What do you say from now on, you and I spend Saturday nights together. Just the two of us with no interruptions. I’ll let my family know, you tell Emmy and Jack. Every other day during the week can belong to them, but Saturday nights belong to you and me.”
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nbsp; There’s a long, silent pause and then she whispers, “But I can’t leave Em alone overnight every weekend.”
“I’m not asking you to do that. I’m saying even if we spend a few hours just having dinner together, Saturday nights are for us.” My fingers stroke her jaw. “Can you do that?”
“I can do that.”
Somehow I believe there will be more than a few obstacles thrown our way, but for now simply knowing that I’ll see her once a week seems to abate all of the tension that’s been overwhelming me since the last time she was here.
We spend a long time just sitting silently and occasionally sharing a kiss or two, until finally my stomach rumbles loudly and she tugs me out of chair, slides her shoes back on, and declares firmly that she needs to feed her man a real meal. The comment doesn’t go unnoticed, not by a longshot. Hearing her call me her man does some weird stuff to my heart, reinforcing what I’ve already known for months now. I am her man … and I love her unconditionally in every way imaginable.
We laugh and talk together while we put together a simple, easy dinner then sit together at the bar to eat our meal. Music plays softly in the background, setting the mood, although I doubt either one of us needs it. Our mood was set the moment Mia said she’d spend the weekend with Emmy. For the first time in weeks, there’s no rushing around, no urgency to get in and get it done—although I’ll be the first to admit that I’m practically blind with need for this woman. From the occasional hot look she shoots my way, I’m thinking she feels the same way.
When we’re finished eating, she sets our plates in the sink to soak then shoots me a come-hither smile and slowly moves toward the hall. She slowly slides the zipper of her dress down until it reaches the top of her ass and with one shrug the material skims her body and falls to the floor.
Holy fuck.
Dressed to kill my ass. She’s dressed to consume, to devour. Her tall, lean body is encased in black lace and if I didn’t know better, I’d say without a doubt that she has to be one of those underwear models that wear the wings. A low-cut bra pushes her breasts up, barely containing them in the black see-through lace, teasing me with a barely-there view of her pert nipples. A garter belt is secured around her waist, clipped to thigh highs that make her legs appear endless. She looks like every man’s erotic fantasy, only better. Tall, blond, eager … and all mine.
She turns slowly to give me the full view, gesturing with her index finger for me to follow. Yeah, like I could ever say no. As it is I’m so fucking hard already this may be over before it really gets started. I practice some deep breathing as I stalk after her, eyes fixated on her thong-covered ass as she strides confidently into the bedroom and climbs right up on the bed.
Kneeling, she drags her fingers between her breasts, down her firm belly, teasing them along the lacey edge of the panties. “Lose the clothes, Moran.”
Fuuuck. I’ve been with a lot of women before, but nothing I’ve ever experienced in the past will come close to seeing the woman I love literally offering herself to me like this. Sexy garments aside, she’s quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Blue eyes dance and a slow smile lifts the corners of her mouth as she watches me undo each button on my shirt and slide it off my shoulders. Approval lights her expression, her gaze drifting over my torso and making me so happy that I work hard to keep my body in good shape. But the moment I reach for my belt, I see her entire expression change from one of seductress to one that begs to be claimed.
“Hurry,” she whispers, gliding her fingers underneath the lace as she watches me remove the remaining items until I’m standing at the foot of the bed with nothing more than my heart and my stiff cock to offer her.
This time I’m the one gesturing to her with my finger, and she hurriedly complies, walking on her knees toward the edge of the bed. Hands on her hips, I pull her close and nestle my nose right between her breasts, breathing in the scent of her skin. Her fingers dive into my hair, head tipped back to offer her body to me, and I intend to take it … every last beautiful, silky inch of it.
In record time I’ve got her bra undone and am tossing it to the floor, lips immediately finding one hard nipple. She moans softly as I tease her with my tongue and teeth, tugging just hard enough so that she feels it between her legs. Sliding my hands down, I cup her ass. With one firm tug the thong is in pieces and it’s joining the other garments on the floor.
Pulling back, I grin wide. I haven’t even kissed her yet and already her skin is flushed pink, eyes the color of denim, totally turned on and wanting. Wearing only the garter belt, stockings, and fuck me heels, she’s nothing like the cool professional I first met so long ago. She’s everything I could ever ask for, everything I could ever want. I can only hope I can be that for her as well.
“Roman … please …” she begs.
With a shit-eating grin, I reach down and stroke my cock just enough to tease her. “What’s the matter?”
Her eyes drift down, and I watch as her pink tongue drifts across her lower lip in anticipation. I’d be a fool to deny her pleasing me with her mouth, but right now the only place I have to be is buried deep inside her slick, wet body.
Good girl that she is, she eases down onto the mattress, knees up and spread wide, giving me a full view of her wet center. With a growl, I grasp her legs and tug till her ass is at the end of the bed, stepping right between her legs and propping her heels on my shoulders. Our eyes meet and in that moment nothing else matters. Not the six weeks apart. Not our crazy schedules. Not her obligations or mine. The only priority is this moment, this woman, and what we are about to do.
Leaning over her, I cup her cheeks and kiss her hard, a tangle of lips and tongues and teeth that’s neither gentle nor kind. Then I pull back just enough to trail my lips over her face, over her jawline, and up to her ear, whispering, “I love you.”
I hear the gasp echo from her mouth, feel the shudder of emotion that threads through her entire body as she eases back just enough to look directly at me. Watery blue eyes meet mine, and she replies, “Oh God, Roman. I love you too. So very much.”
Kissing her now feels like a vow, a commitment that I welcome. Knowing she feels the same way I do brings me a peace I could only ever have imagined and the need to fully claim her roars to the surface once again. Gripping her hips, I thrust in deep until I’m fully seated, too lost in the moment to even realize I hadn’t covered up and protected us.
“Christ, I’m sorry,” I mutter, starting to pull out. “Hang on a sec. Let me grab a condom.”
She grins wide. “No need. I’m on the pill now.” Her lips find mine, and she whispers, “Guess the six weeks were good for something, huh?”
Grasping her tightly, I thrust in deep once again and start a lazy back and forth rhythm. Her hands skim her body as I drive in, teasing her nipples then sliding one hand between her legs to rub her clit. Our eyes are locked together as my fingers dig into the soft skin of her hips, pulling her on and off my cock. This woman brings out the animal in me. I can imagine a hundred different ways I want to fuck her, as long as each one ends with her screaming out my name. The pig in me wants to make up for all the lonely years she’s had, as if mindlessly screwing her will change the fact that she basically handed her life over to her kid. Whatever the case, I fully intend on showing her exactly what she’s been missing and exactly how thoroughly I intend to love her.
“Harder, Roman.”
With a low growl, I grasp her thighs and go to town, furiously thrusting my hips until I’m giving her exactly what she asked for. My gaze drifts over her body where her needy hands seek pleasure then lower to where we’re so beautiful jointed together. Watching her take me so completely makes me want to roar with satisfaction, with greed, but I grit my teeth and hold back my own release until she reaches hers. When she does, it’s such an exquisite thing. Nothing can compare with the screaming, moaning, writhing woman, calling out my name as she comes. The only thing better is coming with her, which I do seco
nds later, spilling my seed into her body as she grips me like a vise.
The comedown is almost as good as the release itself. Happiness settles over me as I fall over her body and find her lips, panting through kisses while our greedy hands grasp at one another. Then we’re whispering “I love you” over and over and over again, and I’m certain no moment was ever more perfect than this one right here.
Sunday morning I open my eyes to find Roman grinning at me, holding out a cup of coffee. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Scooting up against the headboard, I take the cup from his hands and murmur, “Good morning.” Taking a hearty sip, I close my eyes and sigh. “Delicious.”
“Yes you are,” he quips, sliding under the sheet next to me and sipping from his own cup.
I could get used to this. I could get used to a lot of things with him, but the reality is moments like this have been and will continue to be few and far between. And as thrilled and happy as I am to have had this time with him, the pain of things returning to the normal they have been makes my heart ache. Selfishly, I only want to exist in this moment, with him next to me and nothing between us but skin.
With a heavy sigh, I dart my eyes to his. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten.”
I sigh again and nod. Just a few more hours and I’ll have to leave this apartment for the first time in two days and return to the only life I’ve ever known. I hate that just the thought makes me miserable but it does. I know it’s not an either or—Roman or Emmy—but I can’t help feeling like I’m always going to be pulled in separate directions, always going to feel guilty that I’m not spending enough time with one of them.
Roman links his fingers with mine. “Hey, what’s the matter?”
Shrugging, I reply, “Just not ready to leave you yet.”
He removes the cup from my hands then rolls on top of me, until we’re looking at one another eye to eye. “You’re not leaving me, sweetness. This is simply how it has to be. For now anyway.”