This was famous Roman. A Roman the rest of the world thought they knew. I didn’t know why it made me feel suddenly protective and insecure at the same time. I wasn’t sure I had a right to either of those emotions. He was no longer mine. I was no longer his. What exactly were we doing together?
His hand held mine, and I smiled at him. Was this even happening?
We bypassed the check-in desk, and a valet met us at the elevator. “Mr. Sorrow.” He extended a large brass key.
I had to force my jaw to stay shut. It was hard not to let it drop. No check-in?
We rode in the elevator, then Roman turned the key in a special keyhole. It was labeled penthouse. My eyes traveled to his.
“Nooo.”
“Yes.” He nodded, enjoying way too much how easy it was to impress me. “Unless you want me to cancel the penthouse date I planned for you.”
I shook my head wildly. “No. No. I don’t want to cancel.” There were new nerves and emotions. This was what Roman was good at. Grand gestures. Romantic scenes that made my heart melt and my belly flip. In college it wasn’t about money. All he had to do was clear out his apartment, light a candle, and cook a meal for me.
I used to tell myself he expressed himself in actions, not words. But then the words were what hurt me the most.
They stung and needled me at the worst opportunities. Moments like this one when I should have been able to focus solely on the night ahead of us. Instead, the higher we rode in the elevator the more my doubts rose to the surface. I was battling to keep them pushed down. If Roman and I didn’t talk about what was going on between us, I’d have to fight the ghosts every time we were together. I wasn’t much for being haunted.
18
Roman
The elevator opened, depositing us into the foyer of the penthouse suite. Sophie took the first step, and I guided her out to allow the doors to slide closed behind us. I’d tried to think of everything. I didn’t want to miss any of the details. As long as I could make her smile—that was all I ever wanted to do.
It had taken a couple of hours to drive up the mountain. The sun was fading behind one of the peaks in the distance, but there were still beams of orange and pink bouncing around the top floor through the wall of windows.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the flowers and the bottles of wine I had ordered. The manager hadn’t screwed it up.
Her fingertips grazed over the white petals. She spun to face me. “You did all this?”
I nodded. What was that expression on her face?
Her shoulders slumped. Shit. I had remembered the wrong flowers? Wrong wine?
“You don’t like it?” I examined the way her forehead creased. Where had the smile gone? I swore my ribs hurt again. There was a sting in my side. “Soph, what is it?”
“It’s perfect. The perfect Roman Sorrow surprise.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t think that’s a compliment.”
She huffed and walked to double doors, pushing them open to reveal the giant bed in the master suite. She saw more wine. More flowers.
“Can you at least tell me what I got wrong?” I asked.
She stormed past me and yanked the chilled wine from the silver stand. The ice clinked together when it fell back into place. I watched as she twisted the cork free and poured a glass to the top. She took two gulps before she finally spun to face me.
“What are we doing? What are you doing?”
“Getting away from Penny Hill for the night.”
She shook her head and took another gulp. “This is beautiful. The entire penthouse is like something out of a romcom. It’s perfect, Roman.”
“But five minutes ago, you were laughing, and now you aren’t.”
She groaned. “I keep telling myself I can do this, you know?” She paced in front of the windows with the wine. “And maybe I can do this. Clearly, you can do this. But then summer ends, and what does that mean? Back to the NHL. Back to stocking bookshelves.” She pivoted on her heel and started the pattern over. “Seeing you again has been great, unexpected, and in some ways really new. But it’s also brought up all this stuff. Massive stuff has been unearthed from places I had buried down really deep. You know what stuff I’m talking about?” Her eyes landed on me, and I swallowed hard. “The stuff. The elephant in the room neither one of us can bring ourselves to talk about.”
The burning in my ribs was spreading. If it lodged in my diaphragm, I might be done breathing. I staggered to the white silk couch, but she didn’t notice. Her back was to me when I sat.
“Shouldn’t we talk about it? Shouldn’t we just say exactly what we’re thinking and feeling?” She finished off the wine and placed the glass down. “And if we aren’t in the same headspace, then whatever we’re doing is wrong. We admit it’s wrong and we don’t come back to it.”
I ran my hand over my forehead. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” I searched the wall for a thermostat.
“Roman?”
I found the digital box and tapped the down arrow until the air kicked on. I relaxed when I felt a blast of cold air. I wished I could make it cold enough to freeze the floor.
“That’s better,” I answered. “I think I’ll have a drink, too.” I walked over to the wet bar and mixed bourbon into a glass with a few cubes of ice. I held it to my lips. I could smell the sweetness burning through the alcohol. It reminded me of the Ritz. I downed it anyway. I had enough memories haunting me right now to get stuck on that one.
“You planned this entire night, and you never thought about talking about us?”
I stared at her blankly.
She huffed. “Of course you didn’t. Sex. That’s all you could think about. Let’s just fuck until we have to go home and not talk about anything important.”
“Soph, don’t say that.” The bourbon seemed to give me a jolt of adrenaline. “You’ve never been that kind of girl to me. Never.”
“Then someone else has?” she tested. “I’ve seen your Insta,” she explained. “There have been a lot of girls after me.”
I held the decanter and topped off my drink before heading back to the couch.
“Is that what we’re talking about? Who we’ve dated?” I pushed back. I didn’t want to have that conversation. That conversation meant she might open up about who she’d slept with. I knew it was a double-standard, but I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t imagine her in bed with another man. I’d walked out and left my side of the bed wide open, but if she mentioned another guy, I might punch a wall.
“I’d rather talk about us, but I just need you to talk about something. Other than what movie you want to watch and where people from college live now. Or flirting. You are excellent at flirting—distracting me with compliments and those bedroom eyes.” She rounded the couch and sank into the cushions. “What are we doing?” she whispered. “Just tell me, and I’ll shut up. I’ll have my answer, and I can live with it.”
My hand brushed the back of her neck. I twirled a lock of her blond hair around my finger, tugging gently. “Soph, this is killing me.”
“Don’t let it kill you. Just talk to me.”
My fingers pressed into her skin, dragging her closer to me. I inhaled her lotion and her shampoo. Every part of her intoxicated me. I dropped kisses on her ear and breathed into the side of her neck. Her skin prickled. She was fire. I was gasoline. Together we were an explosion that couldn’t be contained. Her breathing picked up.
“You used to talk to me,” she said quietly. “Only me. That’s what you said.”
I nodded, turning her lips to mine. I wanted to consume her. I’d start with her mouth and work my way down her body. Sucking her tits and making her come on my fingers. I’d taste her honey on my tongue before she came in my mouth a second time. I groaned, thinking about how this night should play out. And then I’d take her over the side of the couch. Slamming into her from behind, until we were both home and there was no going back. Why couldn’t she just let me show her how I felt?
Why words?
“Roman, I need to know.” She wasn’t going to let it go.
I closed my eyes and waited for the chains that kept my emotions locked up to loosen a little. I was going to fuck up the trust I had gained back if I didn’t open my damn mouth and speak her language. It had been so long since I had even tried.
“You’re the first girl I ever loved.” I nuzzled against her shoulder. The only time I’d ever been in love was with Sophie. I’d always been in love with Sophie. I didn’t know if I could tell her that there was a present and a future. “Of course, being with you… hanging out. It all means something to me.” I raised my head.
Her gaze pierced through me. How did she make me go breathless like that?
“It means something to me, too.” Her thumb traced over my bottom lip. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. What does it mean that we’re here together? Like this?”
“Why do we need to figure it out tonight?” I scanned her face.
“Because on the drive here, or maybe it was on the elevator ride up, I realized that I can’t pretend with you.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend anything,” I countered. “I never have.”
“With myself.” She straightened her shoulders slightly. “I’ve been convinced for weeks that I can have a summer fling with you, Roman. And damn it. I can’t.” Her eyes glistened. “I have this feeling you’re right there with me. But what if you’re not? What if I’m a fool to believe in us again? Or to just fall into bed with a man who doesn’t care what happens in a few weeks? You’re good at this part. Leaving.” She tried to wriggle off the couch, but I gripped her shoulder, keeping her in place. Her words were sharp. They stung.
We had been walking on this wire for a long time. She wasn’t the fool. I was for thinking I could start fresh and ignore the deep cuts I had made. I struggled to acknowledge I still might not be able to say it the way she needed to hear it. No matter how real my feelings for her were.
It was easier to shut down. Block out the questions. Dig my boots into our history. Why get our hopes up? I’d already laid the foundation for what an asshole I could be. It was simple. I could ignore her. No need to even unpack our bags. Drop her off behind the shop and finish out my sessions before training camp. She would heal again, and I’d play hockey until I was numb.
But she buried her face in her hands. “I swore I wouldn’t let you hurt me this time, and I’m going to keep that promise to myself.” The declaration was muffled. “I had to least say something to know if I was making the right decision. I wasn’t going to end this without telling you how I felt.”
“Soph—” The words were strangled in my throat. Why was it so damn hard to tell her? What could I say? Had I already lost?
“Wait. Did you say end?” My neck jerked in her direction.
Her smile was sad. “I know you went through all the trouble for the penthouse.”
“One of my grand gestures.” It bothered me she had wrapped up everything I’d done for her and slapped a label on it.
“Yeah. Still a beautiful one.” Her gaze traveled to the rows of flowers I'd had flown in. I didn’t care how much they cost. Hell, I didn’t care how much any of it costs. I’d sign over every penny I’d made if I could keep her this time.
“Okay.” I exhaled.
“Okay?”
I closed my eyes. “We’re on the same page. It’s not a hookup. It’s not whatever you called it.” I took another giant breath. “It’s us.” I blinked. She was staring at me.
“I think that’s the scariest thing you’ve ever said.”
I nodded. “It definitely is.” Could she hear my heart pounding?
She slid closer. I needed her to steady me. To drive the doubt away.
“Do you want to talk about it some more?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No. I want to show you.”
Her eyes softened and her lips curled in a smile. “Another one of your strong suits.”
I chuckled. “I’ll save the grand gestures for another night.”
Her hand caressed the side of my jaw, and I leaned into the silkiness of her palm. “I do like your surprises. I really do.”
“Then you might like this one,” I growled, dragging her lips with my mouth and pushing my tongue inside.
She moaned softly, and the night that had almost gone to hell was saved. Something I wished I been able to do before.
“There’s something I want to do with you and this couch, Soph,” I teased her. She drove me crazy with the way she bit her lip.
“What is it?”
“Let me have this surprise?” I tested, helping her to her feet.
She stood patiently while I undressed her completely. Fuck, her body was gorgeous. I threw my own clothes on the floor. Neither of us cared that half the lights in the penthouse were still on. I didn’t want to be in the dark when I watched her come.
“This way.” I took her hand and led her to the back of the couch.
“What do you want me to do?” Her voice was low and sexy. She was already into it. See? Fire and gasoline.
“Stand right here.” I planted one foot where I wanted it and then the other. Then I stood behind her.
My tongue ran along her spine as I spread her legs and cupped her firm ass with my hands. Sophie had the body of a woman now, not just a girl. I admired her hips and her waistline. She told me she ran almost daily to stay in shape. My fingers traced her calves, appreciating the tautness of her muscles before working my way back up to her ass. My mouth covered her shoulder, and she leaned into me.
Our naked bodies pressed into each other, my cock thumping to take her like this. Her hands circled backward to reach my neck.
“Mmm,” she moaned when I ran my palms over her stomach and landed on her breasts. I plucked her tits until the tips were hard against my thumbs. Her hips jutted backward. My cock lunged. Easy, boy, I told him.
“Why don’t you take over for me?” I growled, placing her fingers on her nipples, taking her through the motions until she was lost in the movement and I sank to my knees behind her.
I gently hinged her body forward. Enough to get a perfect view. I didn’t know I could get even harder, but I did when I saw her pussy glistening and her sweet rosebud. I nudged her knees wider to make room for my shoulders. Sophie didn’t protest.
I gripped handfuls of her ass, splaying my fingers as wide as they would go and spreading her open.
“Oh, shit,” she hissed when the air ran between her legs. I wanted dirtier, naughtier words on her lips.
I groaned, wondering if it was possible to come like this. I glanced at the precum squirting from my dick. Yeah, it was fucking possible.
She clenched against the hold my grip made the instant my tongue touched her rosebud. The tight muscles spasmed. But I lapped at it again. With enough licks she’d let me in. I moved on to her pussy, making a circle with my tongue.
“Ohh,” she purred. “Feels good.”
I sucked before moving to her clit. I ran my tongue back and forth until I felt her legs start to wobble. It was like magic, working her body this way. Her hips began to gyrate lightly at first, but as my tongue roamed freely from her rosebud back to her pussy, she began to lose control. Her hands flew to the couch.
“No,” I growled. She twisted to gaze at me over her shoulder. She lifted her fingers, rubbing her breasts as another moan escaped her lips.
I had her on the edge. So close to tipping over. She was wet. Hot. Dripping with desire. And she was looking for a sign that I was a different man. A man who’d never walk away and leave her broken.
My tongue twisted inside her as I began to push my thumb against her rosebud.
“Roman.” She panted my name in quick bursts. My mouth was full of her. Sucking, tasting, kissing the fuck out of her pussy while my thumb pressed deeper inside her ass. I could feel her clench against the pressure in both places just before her hands gripped the couch and her head fell backward. She called to th
e ceiling in a string of curse words and unleashed everything inside her in violent bursts.
I was greedy and thirsty. Slurping and lapping at her juices. I felt the warmth between her thighs as her body convulsed around me.
“Oh, God, Roman. I need you.” She gasped for air.
I fisted my cock only a few pumps as I rose to my feet.
I nipped her shoulder as I positioned myself behind her and sank into her with a sudden thrust that knocked the air out of both of us. My fingers sank into her waist, dragging her back and forth, pushing, thrusting, searing my body to hers.
She kicked back each time, matching each of my strokes with one of her own. God, she was incredible. Taking her like this, I was going to come hard. This woman had been the love of my life since love mattered to me. She had been my dream. My future. My ex. A fantasy that never compared to what we were experiencing now. This was what two people who were meant to be together were supposed to do to each other. This is how we should always treat each other—with wild orgasms and dirty, dirty sex.
“D-diaphragm,” she explained between grunts. “Oh, fuck me. Hard.”
“It’s safe?” I asked and her head bounced up and down, giving me the greenlight to come inside her.
My hips drove into her and I slammed home, feeling the heat and tightness consume me. My head began to swim, and my balls fired and burned for her. There was no holding back when the eruption exploded. I sheathed myself inside her, hissing when she came on my cock immediately. I ground my hips against her ass, and we sighed with satisfaction. I wrapped my arms around her.
“I think you surprised me, Soph,” I whispered into her hair.
“I was going to tell you about the diaphragm,” she responded. “There wasn’t any time.” She sucked in air.
Cold As Puck: A Cold Love Series Novel Page 10
