Page 74

Heat rushes through me again and I shift, my thighs rubbing together.Don’t jump him in the kitchen with your dad in the house.
Lucky for me, Roan seems intent on making me food. He makes me a grilled cheese sandwich. Don’t laugh. It’s my favorite and he knows it.
Winking, he sets the plate in front of me, a perfectly golden crisp sandwich in front of me. “Eat.”
I take a bite, chewing slowly. “Want some?”
He shakes his head. “I have something else in mind.” His breathing picks up, his shoulders flexing as he pushes into the counter and leans in. Raising his hand, he wipes away crumbs off my bottom lip, his eyes intent on my mouth.
“What?”
He blows out a quick breath, his jaw tightening. “Finish the sandwich and I’ll show you.”
Yes, I finish the sandwich, and it helps sober me up. Enough that Roan carries me back upstairs and lays me on his bed. Surrounded by jet-black satin, he stares down at me like he’s not sure what to do now.
“Say it,” he whispers, sweeping his nose across my jaw, his breath hot against my skin.
“Say what?”
“That you love me,” he pleads, his words crashing into me.
I take his face in my hands. “For the record, I didn’t apologize.” He smirks at my stubbornness. “But…” I pause and wait for his eyes to lift to mine. When they do, I gasp at their beauty, relief, and calmness I haven’t seen in years. Swallowing, I shift underneath the weight of his body pressed to mine. “I love you.”
He sighs, giving me all his weight. I trace my fingertips over his jaw, to his neck, his chest. He kisses me, his hot lips welding to mine. He opens his mouth and lets me sweep my tongue inside and then grips the sides of my face, deepening the kiss. Slipping his hand behind my back, he unclasps my bra and takes it off. When my chest is bare to him, his mouth sweeps over my collarbone, then lower to the tops of my breasts. His breathing changes, unstable, hardly controlled through gasps. He’s shaking. To be fair, so am I.
Part of me thinks we shouldn’t be doing this. Not yet, but we’ve resisted for so long, I’m not sure we can any longer. I don’t want to. I want to be tied to him in every way possible.
His touch, his kiss, he doesn’t relent and before I know it, he has my panties off and his mouth is between my legs. It’s the sweetest relief and something only he provides. I never got off during sex with anyone but him. I grip his hair, beg for more, and he provides.
“Come for me, honey,” he growls, his words vibrating through me as he bites down on my clit. I yelp, not expecting the pain to quickly accompany pleasure. With one hand on my thigh, the other working inside me, he spreads me wider.
His teeth let up, his tongue taking over. He sucks, licks, tortures it in the most perfect way. Staring up at the darkness of his ceiling, light flickers in through the small cracks in his curtains. It’s just enough for me to see that his hips shift on the mattress, a groan slipping from his lips.
The sight of him unable to control himself sends me over the edge. Breathless, unaware, I’m brought back by Roan ripping a condom open with his teeth. His weight shifts, my only sight of him staring at me intently as he sheaths himself. When he enters me, I gasp, and he lets out a groan that borders on a cry, his entire frame shaking. Not only is it the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, but I’m also worried he’s in pain.
My eyes snap to his. I’ve never heard him make that noise before. I can’t get a good look at him though.
Burying his face in my neck, he grunts, pressing his hips forward again, slamming into me. “Holy shit,” he says, his words breathed against the shell of my ear. The swell of him, the tightness of his hold, it’s everything I’ve wanted from him and so much more. I’m still drunk, that much is evident, but I’m completely aware of the moment and the weight of our love.
His touch, his movements, it’s completely different from any other time I’ve been with him like this, and I never want it to end. I kiss him, over and over again, our bodies connected in every possible way.
He moves slow, almost like he’s afraid of hurting me and while I urge him to go faster, he shakes his head. “It’s been over five years since I was with anyone else,” he admits, his lips at my ear.
I think about what he’s said. Five years. That would mean…. I was his last? I rack my brain as to when the last time we were together was. The airport bathroom when he was flying out of Newark and I skipped my morning classes to meet up with him. I remember it because he stole my panties and I went through classes the rest of the day without them.
Had he really held out that long? A Sawyer brother restrained from sex? No fucking way.
“You’re joking.”
He lifts his head, slowly shaking it. His hips tremble with each movement, the swell of his head and his pierced cock every time he pulls out feels so good, I actually sigh. “I’m not joking.”
I touch his hot cheek. He leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed. “Why? You didn’t have to.”
It takes him a moment to reply but then he says, between pants, “I wanted to. That lifestyle wasn’t for me anymore.”
I cry. Because I’m an emotional drunk. Or maybe just an emotional person. Either way, I’m crying and he’s barely hanging on.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants, driving into me harder. “I need to come. Goddamn, I’m sorry.” His entire body shakes as he gasps for air.