Page 19

Chapter Eighteen

Eva

T he weight of his body against me makes me feel grounded, like he’s anchoring me to the moment we just created. I smile up at the ceiling while his face is resting on my shoulder. I didn’t know it could be like this.

Two orgasms, and my body is spent. Every single muscle of mine is relaxed. I could easily fall asleep like this. I’ve never felt more content in my life.

Though I know that is something that should scare me since Roman has made no promises, but I don’t have it in me to care. That’s what really good sex does to you. It makes you forget about being safe, and instead, you give in to the pleasure.

“I think we need a shower,” he groans.

I feel the stickiness between the two of us and laugh. “Agreed. And I think we should change the sheets.”

He lifts himself off of me, and I immediately miss the comfort of his warmth. We walk into my bathroom together. I feel slightly uneasy, like what we are about to do is too intimate.

Considering what just took place in my bed, it seems like a crazy thought.

I turn the shower on to let the water heat up, then grab two fresh towels out of the linen closet, all while Roman takes care of the condom.

He reaches his arm into the shower and places it under the spray of water to test the temperature. “After you,” he says as he motions for me to go in.

I close my eyes the moment the water hits my body. It feels amazing on my muscles, which were used in a way they hadn’t been for a while.

I’m already sore where he stretched me so deliciously. The man is huge.

I start with rinsing my body off, sad to get rid of the way he marked me. He looked so tortured with his arousal when he came all over me. It was such an empowering feeling.

When I look over my shoulder, he’s watching me intently. I laugh when I see his dick is already slightly hard again, but focus on leaning my head back and getting my hair wet.

I hear the shampoo bottle pop open.

“Turn around,” he whispers. “And no more laughing at my dick. It’s always hard around you. I can’t help it.”

His fingers begin to massage the shampoo into my scalp. I let the lids of my eyes close while this sexy billionaire—who most women in the city would die to be with—pampers me.

I moan in response to the pleasure. He steps forward, and I feel his hard length pushing into my back. I expect him to say something, but he continues his work on me like nothing is happening.

“Rinse,” he whispers, startling me from my thoughts.

While I rinse the suds out of my hair, I watch him as he washes his hair. His abs flex, his biceps bulge, and my pussy gets wet.

All of a sudden, the body soap he grabbed crashes to the floor—right in front of him.

“Oops,” he says with a smile on his face.

My eyebrows arch at him. “Are you going to get that?”

He looks down at it. “I thought you might like to. With the way you were watching me.”

Oh, it’s on. If he wants to play it like that, I’ll show him who he’s messing with. I run my hands down my hair and squeeze out the excess water, then step out of the water, only inches from him.

I hold his eyes as I slowly lower myself down to my knees. The tip of his dick is centimeters away from my lips. I smile up at him seductively.

He shakes his head in response. I reach for the bottle. Once it’s in my hand, I open my mouth slightly with a smile. His jaw is clenched as he watches me, not knowing what I’m about to do.

Then I stand up and hand him the bottle with a smile. “Here you go.”

“You”—he grabs my waist and squeezes my sides, which makes me laugh out loud— “play dirty.”

The rest of the shower is fun and playful with a hint of sexual tension that hangs in the air. Roman towels off and throws his black boxers back on, deciding not to bother with the rest of his clothes.

He plops down onto my bed, resting one of his hands behind his head, then watches me. I pull on my black cotton shorts and throw on a gray T-shirt. Then I grab my brush and start to run it through my hair as I sit on the bed, one leg dangling off, the other tucked under me.

It dawns on me that I never texted Drew to let him know I wasn’t going to be able to make it after all.

“Shit,” I say to myself.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to text Drew to tell him I wasn’t going to be there. I feel kind of awful, flaking at the last minute.”

He disappears from my room, making me wonder if he doesn’t even like me talking about Drew. But not even a minute later, he is back in my room, holding my phone. He places it on the bed in between us as he lies back down.

“Tell him it’s my fault. I kept you late working on some details for phase two.”

I grab my phone and open up my last text to him.

“I’m sorry I’m such a jealous asshole. I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”

He’s lying on his side now with a look of guilt.

“Are you going to freak out every time you see me talking to him?” I ask as I fire off a text to Drew, then place my phone off to the side.

I lie down on my side, facing him as I wait for his response. He seems to take a moment to think about his answer.

“I can’t explain what it is that comes over me when I see him laughing with you. It’s not something I’ve ever felt before.”

“You’ve never been jealous before?” I ask curiously.

“Jealous, yes, but not of a woman.”

“What has made you jealous?”

He grabs my hand and starts to draw circles on it with his fingers. Goosebumps break out all over me, but I try to focus on him.

“Let’s see. Most recently, I’d say I’ve been jealous of my competitor and the success he’s had at his hotel.”

“Makes sense. But you’ll soon be stealing that success from him now that you’ve hired the most talented designer there is.”

He chuckles softly. “Love the modesty … but you’re right. I did hire the most talented designer I’ve ever met, and that’s the truth.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Bertini,” I say smoothly, though nothing is as flattering as knowing I’m the only woman who has ever made him jealous.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake up to a hand on my stomach. I’m startled for a second until the night I spent with Roman starts to come back to me.

We ordered in food and watched a movie in my bed. I’m not sure what time it was when I got ready for bed, noticing he made no move to go back to his place. I secretly wanted him to stay but would never have asked. I’m still not sure what this is between us.

I glance over at him. His eyes are shut, and his breathing is slow. He doesn’t look like the powerful CEO when he’s asleep.

His hand moves a couple of inches lower on my stomach, but he doesn’t appear to be awake.

I feel wetness pooling between my legs, just knowing his fingers are so close to it.

It’s automatic with this man. I know the skills he has and what he can do with those fingers.

It’s impossible not to be aroused when they’re so close.

To my surprise, his fingers move lower until they land on my clit.

I gasp and look over at him in the dark; there’s just enough light to see him smile with his eyes still closed.

“You’re sneaky …” I whisper.

“Mmm,” he groans. “You’re already wet for me.”

His fingers dip down to my entrance, then move back up to my clit, which is now wet. He rubs slow, lazy circles that drive me crazy with need. My hips move on their own, trying to push for more.

He chuckles. “Patience. I’ll let you come when I’m good and ready.”

I place my hand over his and try to make him speed it up, but he is stronger.

“Are we going to get you there together?” he asks, voice raspy.

Suddenly, we’re both moving our fingers together. I’m no longer concerned with how fast or slow we go, just that we are doing it in unison.

I’m trying to hold off the orgasm because I never want this moment to end—but it’s too powerful, and it surges through me like a flood breaking through a dam.

“That’s it, baby. Come all over our fingers. Get ready for my cock.”

His words make me moan louder and come harder.

As soon as I have the ability to think straight, I reach into his boxers and wrap my wet fingers around him. He groans immediately and moves his hips while I stroke him.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

I keep stroking until I realize it wasn’t a good fuck . Not the kind that means he’s so damn turned on that he can barely stand it.

“What’s wrong?” I murmur, unsure I want to hear the answer.

“I only brought over one condom. Please, please tell me you have one,” he nearly begs.

“I don’t.”

Is there a less embarrassing way to say it’s been a long time since you’ve even had sex, let alone worried about a condom?

“I’m on birth control,” I blurt out before I can think about what I’m suggesting.

I’m sure he doesn’t trust me enough to believe that I’m telling the truth. Who knows how many women would say something like that to trick him for his money?

“I’ve never not used one,” he replies.

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry.” I start to move my hand again. “There are other things we can do for you.”

He rests his head on my shoulder as I tighten my grip, trying to focus on pleasuring him.

“I had an appointment a month ago,” he says in a strained voice.

I stop and wait, wondering if he’s going to continue.

“Just an annual checkup, but I always have them test me. I was clean.”

“I’m clean,” I reply softly. “It’s been a while for me. But how many women have you been with since?”

He looks at me through the darkness of the room, the hint of light letting me see his confusion. “I haven’t been with anybody since I met you.”

His confession sends my pulse into overdrive.

“You haven’t?” I manage; my voice tinged with astonishment.

“You’re all I’ve thought about from the moment you walked into my office two months ago.”

I lean into him. Our lips brush—soft, tentative, testing the moment. Then his lips move over mine with a sense of urgency. I work to pull down his boxers and help him kick them off to the side, then do the same to my shorts.

I grab his length and bring it to my entrance, showing him exactly what I want to do. “I trust you … if you trust me.”

He responds by pushing himself into the hilt, completely bare.

“Holy shit,” we both scream in unison.

“You feel …” He exhales a ragged groan, muscles tensing, as though bracing against a deeper ache. “Perfect.”

I love knowing that he’s never done this before. It makes me feel like I’m different from the rest of them. Maybe I’m not imagining the spark I feel when we touch.

He moves back and forth in a slow, rhythmic pace that sets my body on fire. It’s not like our first time only hours ago, but still just as good.

Within minutes, he is picking up speed and hitting the perfect spot over and over again. My fingers clutch at his back as I search desperately for relief.

“I can’t wait to fill your pussy up with my cum,” he growls in my ear.

A wet slap sounds in the air after each thrust. When I feel the orgasm start to edge closer, I’m shocked that it’s about to happen again. I don’t know what’s different about him. He makes it seem easy, like extracting an orgasm from my body is second nature.

I dig my nails into his back when it finally hits. I scream something incoherently, even to me, as it moves through me. At some point, he grunts and jerks his own release, though I’m too busy basking in mine.

He falls on top of me for the second time while we lie in silence, trying to recover. His dick is still inside of me, but he makes no effort to pull out.

“Wasn’t it you who told me not too long ago that a woman screaming during sex was totally fake?”

I gasp and slap his shoulder. “Are you serious right now? Trying to shove that in my face while your dick is still inside of me?!”

He laughs as I push his chest and force him off of me. I try not to smile at his deep, guttural laugh that’s so out of character for him.

“Hey, I can’t help it. It’s a stroke to my ego when the hottest woman I’ve ever met tells me something like that, then proceeds to nearly rupture my eardrum during sex.”

“Oh, you really are a cocky bastard,” I quip, but can’t hide my own smile.

After we get cleaned up—again—we slide back under the covers. He pulls me tight against his chest while thoughts dance around my head, telling me I’m playing with fire.