Page 7

Roman

I stand in Gabby’s doorway, my brain completely stalled out, as she sits on her bed, looking so warm, so fucking inviting, I have no idea what to do. Which is crazy, because normally I know exactly what to do with a woman in my bed. I am, after all, a hot-blooded man in his twenties.

But this is Gabby and she’s been through a lot tonight, and while I’m an asshole, I’m the best kind of asshole. I once heard Kalen say that, and why am I thinking about Kalen when I have the hottest girl on the planet—dressed in my T-shirt—sitting on my bed?

Fuck me.

“Or better yet…how about me.”

Jesus Christ, I can’t do this. She’s a hot mess and does not need sex from me tonight. But then again, judging from the suggestive look on her face, I’d say she does.

“Gabby,” I begin quietly, my voice low, but my words are crackling with electricity.

I take a slow, deliberate step toward her, and every inch I close in feels like a game I’m about to lose.

I need to keep a measure of distance, because if I get close enough to breathe in her sweet vanilla scent, or feel the warmth of her silky legs against mine—did I mention I’m a leg guy—my defense will crack like glass on ice.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my game strong, but every step feels like I’m skating on a power play, and the pressure is building.

Dammit, I should go before I do or say something I shouldn’t. I’m about to turn, bolt, but then her eyes go wide, flashing with something that looks like horror. She inches back, pulling the sheets up to cover her legs.

“I’m sorry…I misread.” She tries to scurry back more, like she’s trying to escape through the wall. My heart slams in my chest. Shit.

She doesn’t think I want her.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

This time, my steps are deliberate, each one more certain than the last. I sit beside her on the bed, and the mattress dips under my weight.

She tries to shift away, but she never, ever has to run from me and I want her to know that.

I put my hand on her arm to stop her, and the second my fingers make contact with her skin, soft, warm, so incredibly perfect, I know it’s a mistake.

My resolve starts to unravel like an old pair of laces, the fraying edges threatening to snap.

“Don’t for a minute think I don’t want you,” I admit honestly, my breath as unsteady as my body, as I shake my head.

“Gabs, tonight…” I run a finger over the fabric of her T-shirt, trying to keep my control from slipping.

“Seeing you in this… and Jesus, Gabby, when you bent over…” I can’t help but laugh, though it's tight, edged with frustration. “Were you trying to drive me crazy?”

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah, just like what happened in my pants. Big fucking accident,” I mutter, and her eyes flicker with amusement.

She bites her lip, and my shoulders relax, a grin tugging at her mouth, and I lovethat.

“Really?” she asks, voice low, teasing.

“Fuck yeah. I can’t believe you have to ask. I was sure you noticed that an anaconda decided to visit Vegas.”

She’s trying so hard not to laugh. “Anaconda. You’re kind of scaring me there, Romeo.”

“I mean, I don’t have an anaconda…I just mean. Fuck, Gabs.”

“No, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying anacondas aren’t a species found in Nevada. Neither are indigos, pythons or king cobras.”

Shut up, dude. Shut the hell up.

“I had no idea you were so well versed in snakes.” Oh, she’s having so much fun with me right now. “Should I ask?” Her eyes widen as she playfully points down. “Wait, is yours…venomous?”

“Oh my God.”

She glances down and, yeah, I’m hard as a rock, tenting my boxers, which—surprisingly—seems to please her.

This woman. Is. Killing. Me.

“Yeah, I’m hard,” I admit. “You’re so fucking hot, Gabby. I nearly rubbed one out in the shower.”

Her eyes go wide, then she laughs, so loud and so easy, it wraps around me and holds tight, filling me with an unfamiliar warmth.

She absently plucks at the blankets. “You’re just saying that.”

“I don’t say things for the sake of saying them. It’s true,” I snort out. “You can trust me on that.”

She cocks her head, real curiosity in her eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t want you questioning the length of my shower,” I blurt out. “Although it probably wouldn’t have been that long,” I admit and when she chuckles, finding enjoyment in my suffering, I shake my head, already regretting that confession.

One perfectly manicured brow arches. “Oh, so you’re not just fast on the ice?”

“Jesus,” I mutter, my body on fire, but loving the easy comradery between us and the way her mood is shifting, brightening. My mood? Oh, it’s just a raging fire storm in all its horny fucking agonized glory. Yeah.

I lace my fingers through hers and shift closer, forcing my thoughts to settle before we go any further.

My smile falls, and I shift into seriousness, my gaze searching her face, looking for something, anything to give me clarity.

She stares back, her eyes seeking an answer to a question I don’t know.

“Gabs,” I begin, my voice soft but steady.

“I know I promised no questions, but I have to ask. Is this about revenge?” The question hangs heavy between us, and I immediately see a storm brewing in the depths of her eyes.

I quickly add, “It’s okay if it is. If that’s what you want, and need. I’m okay with that.”

Her gaze falls to the bed as she goes silent, like she’s afraid I won’t like the truth.

“You can be honest with me.” I reach out, brush her hair from her face, and her head lifts, blue eyes locking with mine, a new kind of determination there.

“I think it’s more about me, Roman.”

My heart pounds hard against my ribs, as I lean into her, wanting to give her everything—and anything—she needs. “Tell me how this is about you? What’s going on?”

She takes a deep breath and as she lets it out, she explains, “I need to feel wanted, Roman. I…it’s been a while since I’ve been touched.”

Her confession guts me. “Gabs,” I cup her face gently, running my thumb over her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

She leans into my hand. “Tomorrow is another day, and while I don’t know how I’ll deal with everything, tonight…I just want to feel, Roman. I want to forget.”

My blood boils with anger and protectiveness. “I don’t want to talk about him ,” I say, working to keep my anger in check. “…but I want you to know he doesn’t deserve you.”

Her eyes flicker, and there’s something there, something that tells me there’s more going on behind the scenes—with her ex, and with me. She opens her mouth and closes it again, like she can’t find the right words. Either that, or they pain her to give voice to them.

“I don’t want you to feel used, Roman.”

Holy shit. Was her ex using her somehow? I want to ask but don’t. “Use me? Babe, I’m the lucky one here,” I say with a grin, meaning it, yet wanting to soothe her worries.

For a moment, something shifts in her and she pulls her gaze from mine, but not before I catch the vulnerability in her eyes. “I understand if you don’t like?—”

“Gabs, no,” I say quickly to stop her as I inch closer. “I like everything I see. I wasn’t saying any of those things to console you. Like I said, I don’t say things for the sake of saying them. You’re a beautiful woman, and trust me, I want you.”

She blinks rapidly. “You don’t still see me…” She trails off, the words sticking, like she can’t push them past the worry tightening her throat.

“Gabs?”

She shakes her head. “It’s just…back in high school, I was different.”

I cock my head, confused. “We were all different.”

“Yeah, but I was…”

There’s a pause, a long beat between us. I lean in, my mind racing. Where is she going with this?

She tugs on the T-shirt, her gaze flickering to mine as she pulls the loose fabric away from her stomach, only for it to billow back. “You know…my body.”

Understanding hits like a slapshot to the chest, and it takes effort to breathe. “I always liked that girl,” I tell her, offering her a smile that’s warm and genuine. “I liked everything about her.”

Once again uncertainty flashes in her eyes. “We never dated or anything.”

Jesus, her ex might have done a number on her tonight, but she’s been broken for a long time, and dammit, everything in me wants to be the guy to put her back together.

But that’s insane, right? I’ve never been a guy to stick around, and healing takes time.

But despite all that, I want to protect her and that fucking scares me.

But tonight…just tonight.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t like you or liked what I saw, Gabs.

” I see doubt in her expression and since actions speak louder than words, I lean in, pressing my lips to hers, desperate to show her how real this is to me, how much I want her.

At first her lips are stiff, tentative, but when I moan, and deepen the kiss, her body softens and she melts into me.

My body? Oh, it’s beginning to unravel.

I slide my tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness, the softness of her lips sending a wave of heat through my veins. When we finally pull away, gasping for air, I murmur, “For the record, I’m not an asshole who can’t see real beauty, Gabs.”

She grips my shoulders, her voice wavering when she says, “I’m sorry. I never meant to imply you were.”

“It’s okay.” I brush her hair back, and grin. “Also, for the record. Growing up, I was a string bean. Remember? I didn’t fill out until high school when I started hitting the gym.” I wink at her. “Now that’s a guy all the girls ran away from.”

“I didn’t, Roman.” She tugs me to her.

“I want you, Gabby,” I whisper, my voice low and rough.

“I want to strip you naked, spread your legs, and fuck you until you forget his name.” She gulps, her eyes widening, shocked at my bluntness, but my words intensify the heat between us.

“I just don’t want to do anything you might regret come morning. ”

“No regrets,” she tells me.

I search her face, looking for any trace of hesitation, but all I see is raw want, a deep burning desire, and that’s enough for me. I nod. “No regrets.”

“Good.” A teasing glint enters her eyes, and she smirks, pulling me in for another kiss.

“Now can you kiss me again so I can close my eyes and go back in time...” I cock my head and she grins.

I’m about to ask what she means when she chuckles and finishes with.

“…because I happen to like string beans.”

I grip the back of her head and pull her mouth to mine, tasting desperation on her lips. Heat flares between us as I shift, pressing her into the mattress beneath me. Her long, silky legs wrap around my waist, and I groan when my cock grinds against the hot, wet heat of her center.

The world outside dissolves into nothing. There’s only this moment, only her.

Gabs.

My mouth trails down her throat, and I breathe her in, her sweet, addictive scent searing itself into my memory. “God, you smell so good, Gabs.”

She moans, her nails raking over my back, and my muscles lock tight. I dip lower, dragging my lips across the curve of her shoulder, tasting her skin. I’m already on the edge, and we’ve barely started. My hand slides beneath the hem of her shirt. “I need you naked.”

“Yes.”

She inches up slightly, and her arms lift as I strip the shirt from her body.

When I pull it over her head, trying to go slow, a futile effort to prolong this, my breath catches.

I freeze, my eyes locking on her small, perfect breasts.

Soft pink nipples. Perfectly round areolas.

Creamy pale skin. So fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.

“Gabs…” My voice comes out rough, barely a whisper. She meets my gaze, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and my heart beats a little faster. I’ve seen a lot of naked women before. But this. Her. It feels different. Sacred. Like I’ve been handed something rare. Something fragile. A priceless treasure.

I brush my fingers along the outer curve of her breast, and her nipples tighten beneath my touch.

I know she’s not a delicate flower, and even though she took a blow tonight—this woman is tough—right now she feels so delicate in my hands.

My heart thunders painfully in my chest as I lower my mouth, my breath skimming over her heated skin.

“I swear to God,” I murmur against her chest, “I’m going to worship every inch of you.”