Much Ado About You

by Samantha Young

  And rightly so.

  Talk about epic.

  His muscular calves, strong thighs, and the impressive erection saluting me from between them caused another hard flip in my lower belly. I bit my lip to stop another moan and then lifted my finger and made a circular motion.

  Roane let out a huff of laughter, that adorable flush of red cresting the tops of his cheeks, but he did as I requested and slowly turned.

  His ass.

  My God, his ass needed to be immortalized in sculpture.

  He turned to face me and smirked. “Happy now?”

  I shook my head. “I won’t be happy until I’ve kissed every inch of you.”

  His nostrils flared. “I know the feeling, angel.” He stepped back and sat on the bed. “Come here.”

  I’d barely taken two steps toward him when he reached out to grasp me around the waist. Then he guided me to straddle him, his arousal hot against my stomach. My fingers curled into his strong shoulders as he smoothed his hands up my back.

  He was such a tall guy that he made me feel feminine, almost delicate, when most men made me feel the opposite. My gaze wandered from his lips to his eyes, and my breath caught. There was so much emotion in his eyes. Desire, need, yes, but something more. Something beyond even tenderness and affection, and it made my chest feel full. Too full. Almost painfully so.

  “Roane?”

  He slid his hand along the back of my neck, and I felt him pull on the band holding my hair in a ponytail. It had barely begun to fall down my back when he slid his hand into the masses, tangling in it to grab a handful. Then he gently tugged my head back, arched my chest, and covered my left nipple with his mouth.

  I gasped as the touch scored down my stomach to between my legs, and as he sucked and licked at me, my hips began to undulate, searching for satisfaction. Tension coiled between my legs, tightening and tightening as he moved between my breasts. My fingernails dug into his shoulders. I was going to come. He’d built me up with his slow seduction, and now I was ready for release just from his mouth on my breasts.

  Oh my God.

  Abruptly he stopped, and I found myself falling onto my back as he flipped me. I stared up at him, lying atop his duvet, and my lower belly shuddered as he moved off the bed to his knees. I pushed up on my elbows to watch him, my panting growing louder as my anticipation built.

  His big hands coasted up the insides of my thighs as he pushed my legs apart and hauled my body down the bed toward him. He made a guttural noise in the back of his throat seconds before his tongue touched me. His tongue, how his beard gently scratched against my skin, his fingers biting into my thighs . . . it was all too much.

  I cried out as I moved against his mouth, my climax right there on the horizon of a few more licks. He suckled me, pulling hard, and that was all it took. The tension inside me shattered in a spine-tingling release that coursed deliciously through me. I shuddered against Roane’s mouth as he devoured every drop of my orgasm.

  I’d never seen a man look so satisfied or triumphant as Roane stood, towering over me as I lay flushed across his bed. Without a word he pulled open the drawer in his bedside cabinet, fumbled inside it for a second, and removed a condom.

  My inner thighs quivered as I watched him tear open the foil, heard it crinkle before it hit the floor. I’d barely recovered from my epic orgasm, and I could already feel the slick tension building inside me again as Roane rolled on protection.

  Then, as if I weighed nothing, he gripped me under the arms and slid my body up and across the bed before climbing over me.

  I panted for air as he hovered above me, eyes locked with mine. Then he lowered his head and kissed me. Slow, deep, seductive. Mesmerizing. Spellbinding kisses that took me somewhere else. We were wrapped in a cocoon of heat, the air in the stuffy bedroom thick with it, with our musk and the scent of sex.

  There was nothing for it but to give in to the heat, to build it until it was a fire that set us ablaze.

  As I wrapped my legs around Roane’s hips and he pushed inside me, that’s what we did. We stoked the fire with every stroke, every gasp, until I was mindless with how this felt. The entire time he held me in his gaze, keeping us connected. A man had never looked so deep into my eyes during sex, and it was intense.

  It was lovemaking.

  For the first time in my life, that burning desire exploded inside me at the same time as his. I’d never come at the same time as a partner before, and as Roane buried his head in my throat, groaning and shuddering through his release, and as I shook against him with mine, I realized nothing had ever compared.

  He’d ruined me.

  Eighteen

  There was no breeze coming in through the wood-framed windows Roane had pushed up to allow fresh air in. Yet it gave the illusion of cooling us as we lay sprawled atop his bed, naked, sunlight gleaming off our sweat-slicked skin.

  The crisp hairs on his calves tickled me as he curled his left leg around my right. Our heads were turned toward each other on the pillows—we gazed into each other’s eyes while we held hands. Our fingers locked and unlocked as our hands flexed against each other until I smoothed out his palm with mine and began to trace the calluses that had created hard curves at the base of his fingers.

  This was thrill and contentment entwined as one, and it made me so hopeful I could almost cry from the sweet ache of it.

  “I don’t even care it’s like an oven in here,” I whispered, “I could stay here forever.” It was true. I’d never felt so comfortable being completely naked with a man, but Roane made me feel that way. He made me feel like he truly adored every inch of me.

  “Me too.” He sighed. “Although I suppose I should really nip downstairs to check on Shadow and grab us each a glass of water.”

  My grip on him tightened even though I knew he should check on Shadow. Roane smiled at my reflexive move, and as he sat up, he brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “I’ll be quick.”

  After we’d made love, Roane was ready to go again impressively quickly. The man had the stamina of a twenty-year-old. Not that I was complaining. Especially when he kept his promise and took me less than tenderly the second time. It had been rough, hard, and he talked dirty.

  I shivered at the memory as Roane got off the bed and strode out of the room.

  God, I had to write an ode to that man’s muscular ass.

  Wiping sweat off the back of my nape, I grimaced and slumped into the pillow beneath me. We really needed to shower, but there was something thrilling about lying completely naked in the middle of the day with Roane.

  He wasn’t long in returning with two glasses of water in hand. I took one from him and greedily gulped it down, having underestimated how parched I was. Wiping my lips, I asked, “Is Shadow okay?”

  “He’s found a cool spot in the shadow of the kitchen. He didn’t want to be disturbed. This weather makes him sleepy.” Roane grinned, returning to the bed.

  “It usually makes me sleepy.” My lips trembled with amusement. “Not today.”

  “I noticed. Thank fuck for summer days.” He looked more than a little pleased with himself.

  I rolled my eyes. “I couldn’t help myself. You were all sweaty and hot, the latter both literally and figuratively. It was too much for one woman to take.”

  We were quiet a moment as Roane emptied his glass of water and then lay back down beside me. I shimmied toward him, and he lifted his arm, inviting me to curl against him. Resting my head on his strong chest, feeling his heart thud beneath me, I took a deep breath. He smelled of musk and citrus, sweat and sex . . . and me.

  My perfume clung to his skin.

  A shiver of possession rolled through me.

  “We’re doing this then, Evie? We’re giving this thing between us a real go?”

  I nodded, my hair rustling against his skin with the movement. Beg
inning a relationship with Roane was just asking for confusion and complication. I knew that. Yet I refused to panic. We had time. We still had two months to figure out if what we had was worth upending my whole life. No decisions had to be made right away. “We are. But . . . let’s not overthink it or make definitive plans. Let’s just enjoy each other and see where this leads us.”

  He took an expansive breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

  He didn’t sound so sure. “Roane?” I lifted my head to meet his gaze.

  His gaze was searching. “What does that mean exactly? That no matter what happens you’re planning to leave in two months?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “No, it means I don’t want to screw this up”—I gestured between us—“by panicking about what it means. There’s no point worrying about getting deep into this with each other because there’s an expiration date. Let’s not think of there being an expiration date. I leave in two months or . . . I don’t. But if I said right now, ‘Roane, I’m not leaving because of you,’ that would put all of this pressure on us. I don’t want that. I just want us to see where this goes without some clock ticking or not ticking above our heads.”

  Nodding, he slid his hand to the nape of my neck and gave it a comforting squeeze. “That makes sense, angel.”

  Settling my head on his chest again, I traced little patterns on his abdomen, and we lay there in perfect silence. Then I had a thought. “Do you think Bobby came back?”

  “He must have. He would have called if he hadn’t found the sheep.”

  “Do . . . do you think he heard anything?” Neither of us had exactly been quiet.

  Roane shook with laughter. “I could give a shit, angel.”

  “Maybe I care.” But I really didn’t.

  “You don’t. You enjoyed yourself too much to care.”

  “Cocky.”

  “I have every right to be. No woman has come as hard around me as you just did.”

  At the mention of other women, I thought of the last couple of months I’d spent getting to know this man. Although it felt like he knew almost everything about me, I didn’t know as much about him. I knew who he was as a person, but his past was made up of vague information he’d dispensed every now and then. Roane Robson was more of a listener than a talker. But I wanted to know more.

  “You said before you’ve only had a few relationships. Tell me about them.”

  He tensed beneath me. “You . . . you want to hear about other women while you’re naked in bed with me?”

  I chuckled at his incredulous tone. “Roane, you never talk about yourself. I just want to know more. If you don’t want to tell me about the other women, then tell me about your parents. What was it like growing up here? Because in my mind it must have been idyllic.”

  Little goose bumps prickled along my arm as he began to trace lazy circles on my skin. “I have a wonderful mum and dad. Like Milly and Dex, they struggled to conceive, but I eventually came along five years into their marriage. They tried again but it just never happened. Despite the farm, Dad’s family had a long tradition of sending their sons off to boarding school. Dad went, and my grandfather, who died when I was two, made it clear that’s what he wanted for me too. But Mum put her foot down and instead I went to school in Alnster and then to the high school in Alnwick, spent my summers learning about the farm.

  “Dad wanted me to run things when he retired, but Mum wanted me to have choices. I took her advice and graduated from Durham University with a bachelor’s degree in business and finance. Mum and Dad’s graduation gift was money to travel. I did that for six months, backpacking through Europe and Asia. And I was glad for it. I met some amazing people, tried new and wonderful food, and had my eyes opened to the world beyond my own borders. But ultimately, I missed Alnster. I missed the farm.

  “Three months after I came home, my mum and dad told me they were retiring, moving to Greece, and the farm was mine if I wanted it.”

  “Wow.” I pressed my palm flat to his stomach. “That was a lot of responsibility all of a sudden.”

  “It was.” He gave me a squeeze. “But it meant something to me that they believed I could handle it.”

  “How many years ago was that?”

  Roane seemed to stop breathing at the question, and then his voice was gruff as he replied, “Oh, it was a long time ago. You hungry?”

  I blinked at the abrupt subject change. “Um, the heat kind of kills my appetite. Are you hungry?”

  “I can wait if you just want to lie for a while.”

  “I do.” I launched back into questioning him. “Do you see your parents often?”

  “Every year. They usually come home around July or August for a few months, but they’re traveling this year. They’ll be home at Christmas instead.”

  Depending on how things progressed between us, I might not even get to meet Roane’s parents. The thought sobered me. No, it more than sobered me. It upset me.

  “Have you . . . have you talked to your mum since you got that voice mail?” His voice was gentle, like he didn’t want to spook me with a question I might not want to answer.

  I pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to his pec before I replied, “No. I’ve talked to Phil, but I haven’t spoken to Mom directly. Phil says she’s doing okay. I . . . just don’t want things between her and me to affect my time here. I’m being selfish for once.”

  “It’s not selfish, Evie.”

  “I don’t want to talk about my mom,” I whispered, turning to look up at him. He stared down at me with that tender expression I’d come to know and love. “Tell me about your ex-girlfriends before I expire of curiosity.”

  He flashed me a quick, boyish smile. “What do you want to know?”

  “Who they were, what they were like, why it ended?”

  Roane shook with laughter. “Not much then?”

  “Stop teasing and talk.”

  With a melodramatic sigh, he brought the hand not tracing patterns on my skin to rest above his head, as if settling in to tell a tale. “Excluding primary school sweethearts, at high school there was one serious girlfriend. Justine Miller. She lived in Alnwick and was an absolute swot.”

  “What’s a swot?”

  “Someone that prefers school and learning to socializing. That was Justine. But she was cute and funny, and when she made time for me, I liked being around her.”

  “Did you lose your virginity to her?”

  “Aye. She actually was the one that pushed for it. She had a thirst for knowledge about everything, including sex. We were fifteen.”

  “Wow.” My eyes almost bugged out of my head. “That is young.”

  “I suppose. It didn’t seem so to us. We grew up knowing about the mating rituals of animals,” he chuckled. “Sex was always around us.”

  “I guess.”

  “What age were you?”

  “Eighteen. Chace had been pushing for it since we were sixteen, but I wanted to wait. Still pisses me off that he’s the guy who took my virginity.”

  “No regrets, Evie. Justine wasn’t the love of my life, but she was my first time. No changing it. And I wouldn’t want to. She’s a piece of my story. Just like Chace is a piece of yours and without him you’d be a slightly altered version of yourself. Who wants that?”

  Huh. That was true. “You’re very wise.” I snuggled deeper into him. “Okay, tell me more about your women.”

  Roane chuckled. “You speak as if there was a harem of them. There wasn’t. Justine and I broke up just before graduation. Then first year of uni, I met Saskia. She was from Kent and so gorgeous and popular, I judged her as shallow before I really knew her.”

  Ugh. She sounded stunning. Her name evoked an image of a tall, tan blonde with feline green eyes. Someone who could play tennis and ski and hobnob with royals.

  Jealousy was an ugly creature stir
ring to life in my chest.

  “But . . . well, she fancied me.”

  I bet she did.

  “And she made it her mission to make me her boyfriend.” There was a tenderness in his voice I didn’t like. “We were different in so many ways, opposites really. But underneath the shallow socialite, there was a loyal girl with a kind heart. Which I broke.” He sighed heavily. “We were together all through university. I’d stayed at her parents’ place during the summer, she’d stayed at mine. But the closer we got to graduation, the more she was talking about us getting engaged and moving to London to work, and I knew that it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to travel, aye, but I think I already knew deep in my heart that I wanted to work the farm. And Saskia wasn’t made to be a farmer’s wife. So, I broke up with her.”

  Emotion clogged my throat. When I’d asked Roane to tell me about his past relationships, I honestly hadn’t thought I’d feel so possessive . . . and so ludicrously upset by what he’d had with this Saskia person.

  It was silly.

  She was an ex for a reason.

  “She must have been devastated,” I managed, my voice a little hoarse.

  “She might have been but not anymore. She’s engaged to a television producer in London.”

  “Was she it or was there anyone else?”

  “The last was Chloe. We split two years ago after dating awhile. She wanted to travel, and I wanted to stay put.”

  It sounded like neither of the last two relationships had ended because they’d stopped loving each other.