Page 29

Roman

T he warm scent of cinnamon and… Gabby pulls me awake. I open one eye, and then another, and find her standing at the door, watching me. My heart leaps at the sight of her. I never minded being on the road, until… her.

“Creeper much,” I tease, rubbing the blur from my eyes, but as soon as she comes into full focus, I notice the unease in her eyes, the uncertainty. I push myself up, my pulse jumping. “Are you okay?”

That uncertainty lingers for a second and then a smile spills over her face. “Yes. I just wasn’t sure if it was too early for you to be up. Did I wake you?”

I hesitate for a second, sensing something is off. Is it Cass? She takes a step toward me, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I just got back from The Nook. I have a surprise for you.”

Her teasing eases my worries and I glance at the clock, groaning when I see it’s noon. “That surprise had better have something to do with you naked, and between these sheets with me.”

I hold my hand out for her. Christ, last night, when I crawled into the bed, found her all warm and soft, her body welcoming me even in sleep as I cocooned her in my arms, all I wanted to do was wake her, put my cock in her until she was screaming my name.

But she had a long week taking care of Stella and needed her sleep.

This morning, however, is a different story.

She toys with the top button on her blouse. “But... cinnamon buns.”

“Get your buns over here, Gabby. Those are the only ones I’m currently interested in.”

Her cheeks flush, and any unease she might have felt earlier dissipates. She unbuttons her blouse as she slowly comes toward me, and the slow seduction makes me delirious. I push the blankets down to expose my hard cock, to show her exactly what she does to me.

She gasps, and there’s a teasing edge to her voice when she points to my cock. “I didn’t know anacondas were native to Boston.”

“Fuck, girl.” I shake my head. Jesus, I love this woman.

Whoa.

What the actual fuck.

There’s no “what the fuck” about this, Roman. You love this woman.

I can’t… that’s not?—

Ah, but you do, dude.

But what if she’s still in love with her ex? I hate the guy—yeah, I hate what he did to her—but what if, by some miracle, he figures his shit out? What if he becomes the man she used to dream about and gives her the life she always wanted?

Fuck me.

My heart leaps into my throat. But she must not notice my moment of absolute panic, because she’s stripping, and the next thing I know, she’s on the bed, crawling between my legs like a woman on a mission.

“I think someone missed me,” she teases, fingers trailing over my thigh like she knows every weak spot I’ve got.

Missed her?

Yeah, I fucking missed her, which is insane right? Roman Marinelli doesn’t do relationships. Doesn’t do missing…

Yet, here we are.

“Yeah,” I manage, my voice rough as I reach up and place my palm on her cheek, brushing my thumb over the soft heat of her skin. “Gabby…”

Her head lifts. Our eyes lock.

Jesus, I’m in so much trouble here.

When I don’t speak—fuck, I don’t even think I can string two syllables together—she smiles, and wraps her hands around my cock. The need in her eyes nearly steals the air from my lungs.

“I couldn’t wait to get home. Get you back in this bed,” I say, my voice low, barely recognizable, even to myself.

But then, for a split second, that same unease returns.

That ghost behind her smile. And I almost call it out.

Almost push her back, and demand to know what happened between last night when we talked, to her waking me up.

But then she lowers her mouth to me with a soft moan that sends lightning bolts straight to my core.

And all thoughts pack a bag and head south.

She takes me deep, her mouth warm and wet, her throat relaxing like she wants all of me. One hand strokes the base while the other cups my balls in a slow, sensual massage that sends heat crawling up my spine.

I prop myself on one elbow, needing toseeher. Needing to remember this. Her lips wrapped around me, the flush of her cheeks, the way her eyes flutter with pleasure like she’s doing this just as much for her as she is for me.

But as good as it feels, I need more. I need to be inside her. Now.

I pull her off me, breath ragged. She pouts. God, she’s fucking adorablewhen she pouts. But I drag her mouth to mine and kiss her hard. I roll her beneath me, my body covering hers like instinct, like protection, like possession.

I want to keep her here. Forever.

But she’s not mine.

So what the fuck are you going to do about that, dude?

She wraps her legs around me, pulling me close, and my cock slides into her like we were made for this. For each other. She moans, arching into me as her walls clench tight. I sink deep, and I stay there, still, savoring the moment. The feeling.

“Three long days without this,” she murmurs, teeth grazing my shoulder, “I thought I’d go insane.”

Fuck , I love hearing her say that.

“Yeah, baby,” I growl into her neck. “Me too.”

Her eyes roam my face, and for a second I wonder if she’s searching for what’s in my heart. I open my mouth, wanting to tell her, but fuck, I can’t. What if I’m the guy to keep her from what she really wants in life?I open my mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch.

Before I can spiral further, she pulls me down and kisses me, deep and consuming, her tongue exploring my mouth like it’s searching for answers I’m too afraid to say out loud.

Her hips rise to meet me, and I grind down, rubbing slow and firm against her clit.

She moans into my mouth, hips arching with a desperation that shoots straight to my core.

I grab her wrists, link our fingers, and pin her hands above her head, spreading her out beneath me.

I need her open, body and soul.

And yeah... this isn’t just sex.

This is love.

At least it is for me.

There it is. I said it. Not out loud, but inside me, it detonates like a grenade.

Truthfully it terrifies me. But with Gabby, it’s different.

She’s not some blurred face I’ll forget by morning.

She’s not a moment. She’s everything. It’s like we were meant to meet that night at the pool, meant to find each other again.

Even if she still has feelings for her ex.

Even if I’ve spent my whole life running from anything that looked like home—because home used to mean chaos. I spent my childhood shielding my brother from shattered dishes, slammed doors, and screaming matches that never ended.

But this? This isn’t that. This is us.

And maybe, just maybe, I want to give her a piece of myself.

The part I’ve kept locked down for so long I almost forgot it existed.

But can I be the right guy? Could this work?

I’ve seen marriage from the outside. Polished smiles and Instagram-worthy dinners.

But behind closed doors when the masks fall off, that’s where love turns into something twisted.

Right?

But… haven’t Gabby and I alreadybeen behind closed doors?

Yeah. We have. And it's been nothing short of fucking incredible.

So what if we stepped through the next door? What if it was even better? What if I’ve been wrong about everything?

But what if I’ve been right?

Her body wraps around me, and I push those questions to the back of my brain. I release her wrists and slide my hands down to cup her ass, squeezing tight. She claws at my back, her nipples hard against my chest, her heat dragging me closer to the edge.

I kiss her again, savor her taste before I move to her neck, licking, tasting, inhaling the scent of her skin like I’m starving for it. And maybe I am. Maybe I always have been.

“Roman,” she breathes, a whisper laced with need and pleasure.

I pull back just enough to watch her unravel beneath me. Her lids flutter, breath hitching, her body trembling as her orgasm takes over. Her muscles clench tight around my cock, pulling me deeper into her heat, into her heart.

My own release slams into me, white-hot and blinding. I groan into her mouth, lips crashing over hers as I spill inside her, her name a prayer in my throat. She pulses around me, still riding every wave, and I hold tight, so lost in her I’ll need a compass, a map, and a miracle to find my way out.

But here’s the thing. I don’t want out. Not ever.

My body jerks, wringing every last drop of sensation from my core. Gabby holds me tight, her body absorbing each spasm, her warmth sinking into my bones like she was made to heal the broken parts of me. We’re tangled, breathless, giving and taking in equal measure.

And then, slowly, our bodies stop spasming and I roll to the side, slipping free from her body. I immediately pull her close again, needing her skin against mine.

“Gabby…” I whisper, brushing damp strands of hair off her face. I kiss her—chin, nose, forehead, cheeks—soft, lingering presses that say everything I’m still too much of a coward to speak aloud.

But she doesn’t answer.

I pull back, instantly alert, and freeze when I catch the look on her face. Stricken. Frozen. Eyes wide and unblinking.

“Gabs?” I murmur, voice tight.

She blinks rapidly, lips parting. “We didn’t…”

She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t need to. My stomach drops. Fuck. No condom. I was so caught up in this—her—that I completely forgot.

And I never forget.

Except now. With her.

“Baby, I’m so fucking sorry,” I say, dragging a shaky hand through my hair, heat prickling beneath my skin. “Shit, we’ll go to the drugstore right now.”

I start to move, already disgusted with myself. When mistakes get made, consequences happen. Babies happen. And here I am, completely incapable of telling the woman I love how I feel, too fucking afraid of destroying what we have.

But her hand grips my arm to stop me. “It’s okay,” she says quietly, tapping her arm. “I have Nexplanon.”

I blink. “Right. The implant.” Relief floods me and I exhale hard. “Jesus. Thank God.”