She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt. But I could still make do if you didn’t.”
I threw my head back and laughed. God, I’d missed her.
Her fingers traced over my abs as she giggled right along with me.
When I finally sobered, I pressed a closed-mouth, but no less deep, kiss to her smart-ass mouth. Then I got serious again.
I didn’t want to do it.
What I really wanted to do was take a shower, drink a fucking beer, eat a homemade burger that was currently getting cold, then go to bed and make love to my wife before she fell asleep with a smile on her face, content to be doing it next to me.
But, again…I had minutes.
And years to make up for.
Palming each side of her face, I tipped my forehead to hers and got to it. “Lis, I spent my whole life thinking that, if you wanted something, you work hard and make it happen. And then, one day, I had to face the harsh reality that some things were out of my reach no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t give you a family, and it was the first time I ever felt like I’d failed you.”
“Roman,” she gasped, but I kept talking.
“It was a such a basic biological function, and I just couldn’t do it. Do you have any idea how hard it was as a man to, month after month, watch the woman you wanted to give the world fall apart over pregnancy tests that just wouldn’t turn positive? And then the miscarriages.” I cleared my throat when a thick, gritty knot took up root.
“Roman,” she breathed regretfully. “We both—”
“No, let me say this. It’s been too long.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she closed her mouth and gave me a short nod.
I sucked in a breath and let five years of pent-up anxiety fly. “That fucking roller coaster of euphoria when you finally got pregnant, the constant nerves during those first few weeks, then the crash down into utter devastation when you’d start bleeding. Jesus, Lis. It destroyed me. I know it killed you too, but you were stronger than I was. You always got back up and wanted to try again. You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you no. I couldn’t handle it. I wanted it to stop so we could just go back to being us—being happy. But then I’d see that glimmer of hope in your eyes. So I’d pull my shit together and set about giving you the world, regardless that it was shredding me.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she accused, leaning away from me.
I was breaking her. I could see it in her eyes. Everything I’d shielded her from during those years we were trying to conceive was crushing her all over again.
I gave her space and swayed my torso back, but I kept my hips between her legs. “Because, if you wanted it, I wanted to be the one to give it to you.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, tears streaming from her eyes. “I…I thought we were a team.”
“We were!” I swore. “But, baby, infertility is an impossible sport. Everyone loses.”
“Until they win,” she replied sharply. “You’re standing here, talking about our struggle to get pregnant and how that affected you. But you seem to forget the fact that we beat it. We got Tripp.”
My eyebrows pinched together. I didn’t know how to reply. I’d loved that little boy from the moment Elisabeth had told me she was pregnant. I’d never forget the first time I’d felt him kick. It was the first time I believed in miracles. I’d also never forget the day we found out he was a boy—and then, minutes later, found out about the fluid on his brain and that he probably wouldn’t make it to delivery. It’d felt like I’d been hit by freight train. I wasn’t sure we could consider that kind of tragedy a victory.
She closed her eyes and whispered, “You never connected with him, but I never thought you’d turn your back on me.”
“I never connected with him?” I repeated on a violent whisper. “Have you lost your fucking mind? He died in my arms!”
“And then you left!” she yelled, pushing me back and hopping off the counter. “Like it meant nothing. Like those twelve minutes he was alive weren’t worth it. You woke up the next morning while I was still in the hospital, grieving our little boy, and declared you were quitting your job and starting Leblanc Industries.”
“So I could give you another child!” I roared.
Her face turned red as she screamed, “I didn’t need another child! I needed you!” She began pacing the length of the granite island. “God, Roman. What is wrong with you? You act like I was some baby-crazed woman who wouldn’t stop until I got a basketball team. I had just lost our son. The last thing on my mind was replacing him.”
I stepped toward her, blocking her path. “But you would have wanted to try again eventually, Lis. And nothing had changed. I wouldn’t have been able to give it to you. I couldn’t do it physically, and it destroyed me when we had to borrow money from your parents the first time. That was my job to provide that for you. And I just couldn’t! I started the company, and I did everything I fucking could to earn the money to pay for another IVF cycle.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and stared at the floor. “I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up. I know this now. I should have talked to you. But, in the throes of failing the only woman I’ve ever loved, the words didn’t come easily. I take full responsibility for that.”
“God, Roman! You have no idea how often I used to lie awake in that bed, all hours of the night, just praying you’d come home and talk to me.”
I slowly lifted my gaze to hers and admitted, “Yeah, I do. Because I used to sit in my car, down the street, waiting for your bedroom light to go off.”
“What?” she whispered, a sob catching in her throat.
I reached for her hand, but she snatched it away.
“I couldn’t stand watching you cry anymore and I couldn’t fix it. I came home a few times and found you talking to my mom or one of your girlfriends, and for those moments, you were okay. Happy, even. But, as soon as your eyes met mine, they filled with tears. I figured staying away was better.”
She shoved me as hard as she could. “You dumbass. I missed you. I missed our life. I missed being your wife. That’s why I’d cry, because even when you did come home, you still weren’t there!”
I lifted my hands palm up and, at a loss for more words, said, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? That’s it?”
Was that it?
Not even fucking close.
I strode toward her, but she backed away just as quickly.
“Don’t you dare come near me,” she said. “Keep your hands to yourself and out of my hair so I can actually think for once.”
This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.
“Lis, stop. Please. Let’s just take a deep breath.”
But she was far from done. “And I’m sorry, but I’m calling bullshit on your little give-me-another-baby excuse when it comes to your company. You signed over our entire life in the divorce in exchange for my half of your company.” She marched forward and stabbed a finger in my direction. “Half that I never wanted! I fucking hate that company. I swear to God it’s like the other woman in our relationship. I don’t want your fucking money.” Another step toward me. “I don’t want any-fucking-thing that comes from that company or your precious little Rubicon.” Her chest heaved when she finished. She kept her gaze locked on me as she glared expectantly.
Oh, I had a response. But she wasn’t going to like it any more than I was going to like telling it.
“Three hundred and seventy-two”—I paused, bending at the waist before finishing—“thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“That’s how much debt Leblanc Industries was in the day our divorce was finalized.”
She gaped and repeated, “What?”
“You think I was eager to saddle you with half of that debt? Fuck that! I had nothing, Lis. But the woman I loved walked away with a house. Furniture to sit on. A bed to sleep in. A piece-of-shit car, but at least she had wheels. It wasn’t much. But it was all I cou
ld give you.”
Her face contorted murderously as she yelled, “Stop being such a goddamn martyr!”
I closed the distance between us in one long stride, catching her just as she crumbled.
Crawling even closer into my chest, she cried, “I hate you so much.”
“I know,” I breathed, kissing her temple.
“I spent two years of my life without you because you couldn’t figure out how to open your fucking mouth and talk to me.”
I hugged her as though I could absorb her pain. “I know. But I’m talking now.”
“I don’t wanna talk now.” She whined. “I wanted to talk two years ago. I wanted you to stop me before I ever got to the door.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” I kissed every inch of her face and hair that I could reach, her body shaking in my arms, the tiny remnant of my heart shattering all over again.
My chest was tight, the ache lingering. I’d always been confused by the way our marriage had ended. However, hearing Roman’s side of it definitely took some of the sting out. Even if I still couldn’t completely wrap my mind around it.
I didn’t know what all of it meant for us—as far as a future went.
To use Roman’s words, my head was definitely not “straight” about what was happening with us.
But I knew with my whole heart that Roman still loved me.
And I knew with my entire being that I’d always loved him.
He was a bossy, suit-wearing, Range-Rover-driving, rich guy I barely recognized. But beneath it all was still my smart, funny, and gentle husband. So I didn’t fight as he picked me up off my feet and carried me up the stairs to our bedroom, whispering a million apologies into my hair as we went.
He was still in jeans as he settled us both on the bed, and he wasted no time curling me into his chest. He combed his fingers through my hair until I relaxed on top of him. As I listened to the steady beat of his heart pounding out my favorite lullaby, my tears eventually stopped.
Then, in a bed we had bought together.
A bed where we’d spent countless nights laughing and talking about our days.
A bed where he’d made love to me with his hands, his mouth, and his body.
A bed where our children had been conceived.
A bed where he’d held me after we’d lost them.
A bed where he’d brought me breakfast and flowers every single Mother’s Day.
A bed I’d fought the urge to burn on a near daily basis after we’d divorced.
A bed I realized I never wanted him to leave.
I finally got my head straight.
As I lifted my eyes, he looked down to meet my gaze.
“So, um…I guess you can keep the house key. Even though you stole it.”
He grinned, and it lit his entire face, his perfect lips to his mischievous eyes.
I tipped my chin up, silently asking for a kiss—an offer he did not decline.
It was short but no less meaningful, and it caused a peace I hadn’t felt in years to wash over me.
But a tinge of worry still lingered in the back of my mind.
“This isn’t over. You know that, right? It’s gonna take time to rebuild,” I informed him just before he kissed me again.
With our lips still connected, he rolled us so we were on our sides, sharing a pillow. “Patience isn’t my strong suit, Lis,” he grunted, sliding a hand over my ass.
“Then you’re gonna have to figure it out, because things happened, and they cut us both deep. It’s gonna take time to heal.” I brushed the hair off his forehead. “Now, I’m all for trying to do that healing together, but in order to do that, you’re gonna have to find the strength to keep whatever twenty-pound diamond you’ve probably already bought tucked in your pocket.”
This got me another blinding, full-face grin.
I leaned in to kiss his smiling mouth, but by the time I got there, it was no longer smiling.
It was open and sealing over mine.
He swallowed my moan when his tongue glided against mine. Then he fed me a groan as I threw a leg over his hips and ground against his cock.
Lifting my nightie, he shoved his hand inside the back of my panties, gripping hard and rocking me against him.
I lost his mouth as he knifed up, stripped the silk over my head, and threw it across the room. I found his mouth again seconds later as it landed on my breast, sucking my nipple deep and swirling around it with his tongue.
When I arched off the bed, he shoved an arm under my back, lifting me closer to his mouth.
“Oh God, Roman,” I cried, writhing beneath him.
He shifted his attention to my other breast, setting off an explosion that traveled to my clit. My legs scissored beneath his heavy weight, but he was too lost in his feast on my chest to catch my silent plea for more.
His mouth was torturous. It took me high, but nowhere near high enough to fall. And, as he flicked his tongue over my peaked nipple, my body craved the release. I took the initiative and slid my fingers between my legs.
He growled and pushed up when he felt my hand move between us.
“Keep going,” he demanded, rising off the bed, snatching my panties down my legs as he stood.
I dropped my knees to the sides, his eyes honing in on my fingers playing between my legs.
“Jesus, fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rumbled, dragging the tips of his fingers up my thigh, over my stomach, and then down the other side.
“Touch me,” I begged.
Still staring down, he licked his lips then made the path up my other thigh, over, and down again.
“Haven’t been with anyone else,” he muttered.
“No one,” I confirmed. “Touch me.”
“Two fucking years and no one.”
Up one thigh.
Down the other.
“No one,” I repeated.
Up one thigh.
Down the other.
“I couldn’t do it. I knew I’d get back here one day, and I was not bringing another woman with me,” he confessed.
My hand stilled as my mouth fell open.
He hadn’t been talking about me.
He had been talking about himself.
Oh.
My.
God.
For the first few months after our divorce, I had become physically ill at the idea of Roman being with someone else. Then, after Rubicon had taken off, I’d accepted it as fact. On top of the sexy, smart, and charming man he’d always been, he’d become wildly successful and wealthy to boot. I’d figured women were probably lining up outside his office.
Now, hearing him say that he hadn’t been able do it blanketed me in love.
“Keep going,” he ordered, his hand still traveling up one thigh and down the other as he stood beside the bed, staring down at me.
My fingers went back to moving, but I was blinking tears back.
“No one?” I squeaked.
He finally lifted his eyes to mine. “I work a lot, but I could’ve made time. To date or whatever the hell people tell you to do after a divorce. But I always knew it wasn’t over with us, and I refused to tarnish that with someone else.”
Oh.
My.
God.
My throat closed, and that love flooding my system turned into an all-out wildfire.
Roman Leblanc was mine.
All of him.
Even when he wasn’t.
Moving my hand to catch his wrist, I gave him a tug. “Come here, Roman.”
He didn’t move. He just continued to stare down at me, his face unreadable.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I sat up and kissed just above his navel.
Going for the button on his jeans, I told him, “I want to feel you, baby. Now’s not the night for you to watch.” I undid his zipper and pushed the denim down his legs, his thick erection springing free. “However, I’m gonna taste you first. So you can watch for a few minutes longer.”
His ab
s rippled as I wrapped my palm around his cock and guided it to my lips.
“Fuck,” he rumbled when I took him to the back of my throat.
I used my hand to work his shaft, my mouth paying special attention to his sensitive crown. His cock twitched with every swirl of my tongue. As I continued to slide him in and out of my mouth, one of his hands dipped to my breast, tugging on my nipple and shooting a tingle down my spine.
He brushed my long hair away from one side of my face, and I glanced up to find him watching, his gaze so intense that it caused goose bumps to pebble my skin.
“Missed your mouth, Lis,” he said, fisting the back of my hair.
I cried out as he gave it a sharp, but still in-fucking-credible, tug and popped himself free of my mouth.
“Missed watching you ride my cock more.”
“Yes,” I moaned.
I’d missed that, too. A hell of a lot.
He smirked. “You ready, baby, or you need me to help with that?”
If help meant his dexterous fingers finally finding their way inside me, then yes, I absolutely wanted help. But I didn’t need it. I was more than wet and completely ready. And, judging by the glint in his smoky eyes, he wasn’t just going to watch me ride him.
I knew that look well, and I was usually naked before he ever touched me whenever he wore it. He was going to take me from the bottom after he drove me to sheer insanity with his thumb at my clit.
It was one of his favorite ways to fuck me.
But it was my absolute favorite of all.
Because of this, I did not delay in standing, rolling up to my toes, ghosting my lips across his, and confirming, “I’m ready.”
The side of his mouth hiked as he released the back of my hair and gave the bed a chin lift.
I followed his unspoken order and climbed up, watching him step out of his jeans and then prowl up after me.
He didn’t touch me as he passed, but I shivered all the same as he settled his muscular body with his back to the headboard. My core clenched as he wrapped his large hand around his cock and gave it a firm stroke.
His gaze lifted to mine, his eyes so dark that they were barely recognizable. “Gotta say I love the way you’re looking at me, but all I’ve had is my hand for the last few years. I’m gonna need you to get your ass over here, climb on top, and give me that pussy.”
The Complete Retrieval Duet Page 13