by Aly Martinez
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? That’s it?”
Was that it?
Not even fucking close.
I strode toward her, but she backed away just as quickly.
“Don’t you dare come near me,” she said. “Keep your hands to yourself and out of my hair so I can actually think for once.”
This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.
“Lis, stop. Please. Let’s just take a deep breath.”
But she was far from done. “And I’m sorry, but I’m calling bullshit on your little give-me-another-baby excuse when it comes to your company. You signed over our entire life in the divorce in exchange for my half of your company.” She marched forward and stabbed a finger in my direction. “Half that I never wanted! I fucking hate that company. I swear to God it’s like the other woman in our relationship. I don’t want your fucking money.” Another step toward me. “I don’t want any-fucking-thing that comes from that company or your precious little Rubicon.” Her chest heaved when she finished. She kept her gaze locked on me as she glared expectantly.
Oh, I had a response. But she wasn’t going to like it any more than I was going to like telling it.
“Three hundred and seventy-two”—I paused, bending at the waist before finishing—“thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“That’s how much debt Leblanc Industries was in the day our divorce was finalized.”
She gaped and repeated, “What?”
“You think I was eager to saddle you with half of that debt? Fuck that! I had nothing, Lis. But the woman I loved walked away with a house. Furniture to sit on. A bed to sleep in. A piece-of-shit car, but at least she had wheels. It wasn’t much. But it was all I could give you.”
Her face contorted murderously as she yelled, “Stop being such a goddamn martyr!”
I closed the distance between us in one long stride, catching her just as she crumbled.
Crawling even closer into my chest, she cried, “I hate you so much.”
“I know,” I breathed, kissing her temple.
“I spent two years of my life without you because you couldn’t figure out how to open your fucking mouth and talk to me.”
I hugged her as though I could absorb her pain. “I know. But I’m talking now.”
“I don’t wanna talk now.” She whined. “I wanted to talk two years ago. I wanted you to stop me before I ever got to the door.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” I kissed every inch of her face and hair that I could reach, her body shaking in my arms, the tiny remnant of my heart shattering all over again.
Chapter Sixteen
Elisabeth
My chest was tight, the ache lingering. I’d always been confused by the way our marriage had ended. However, hearing Roman’s side of it definitely took some of the sting out. Even if I still couldn’t completely wrap my mind around it.
I didn’t know what all of it meant for us—as far as a future went.
To use Roman’s words, my head was definitely not “straight” about what was happening with us.
But I knew with my whole heart that Roman still loved me.
And I knew with my entire being that I’d always loved him.
He was a bossy, suit-wearing, Range-Rover-driving, rich guy I barely recognized. But beneath it all was still my smart, funny, and gentle husband. So I didn’t fight as he picked me up off my feet and carried me up the stairs to our bedroom, whispering a million apologies into my hair as we went.
He was still in jeans as he settled us both on the bed, and he wasted no time curling me into his chest. He combed his fingers through my hair until I relaxed on top of him. As I listened to the steady beat of his heart pounding out my favorite lullaby, my tears eventually stopped.
Then, in a bed we had bought together.
A bed where we’d spent countless nights laughing and talking about our days.
A bed where he’d made love to me with his hands, his mouth, and his body.
A bed where our children had been conceived.
A bed where he’d held me after we’d lost them.
A bed where he’d brought me breakfast and flowers every single Mother’s Day.
A bed I’d fought the urge to burn on a near daily basis after we’d divorced.
A bed I realized I never wanted him to leave.
I finally got my head straight.
As I lifted my eyes, he looked down to meet my gaze.
“So, um…I guess you can keep the house key. Even though you stole it.”
He grinned, and it lit his entire face, his perfect lips to his mischievous eyes.
I tipped my chin up, silently asking for a kiss—an offer he did not decline.
It was short but no less meaningful, and it caused a peace I hadn’t felt in years to wash over me.
But a tinge of worry still lingered in the back of my mind.
“This isn’t over. You know that, right? It’s gonna take time to rebuild,” I informed him just before he kissed me again.
With our lips still connected, he rolled us so we were on our sides, sharing a pillow. “Patience isn’t my strong suit, Lis,” he grunted, sliding a hand over my ass.
“Then you’re gonna have to figure it out, because things happened, and they cut us both deep. It’s gonna take time to heal.” I brushed the hair off his forehead. “Now, I’m all for trying to do that healing together, but in order to do that, you’re gonna have to find the strength to keep whatever twenty-pound diamond you’ve probably already bought tucked in your pocket.”
This got me another blinding, full-face grin.
I leaned in to kiss his smiling mouth, but by the time I got there, it was no longer smiling.
It was open and sealing over mine.
He swallowed my moan when his tongue glided against mine. Then he fed me a groan as I threw a leg over his hips and ground against his cock.
Lifting my nightie, he shoved his hand inside the back of my panties, gripping hard and rocking me against him.
I lost his mouth as he knifed up, stripped the silk over my head, and threw it across the room. I found his mouth again seconds later as it landed on my breast, sucking my nipple deep and swirling around it with his tongue.
When I arched off the bed, he shoved an arm under my back, lifting me closer to his mouth.
“Oh God, Roman,” I cried, writhing beneath him.
He shifted his attention to my other breast, setting off an explosion that traveled to my clit. My legs scissored beneath his heavy weight, but he was too lost in his feast on my chest to catch my silent plea for more.
His mouth was torturous. It took me high, but nowhere near high enough to fall. And, as he flicked his tongue over my peaked nipple, my body craved the release. I took the initiative and slid my fingers between my legs.
He growled and pushed up when he felt my hand move between us.
“Keep going,” he demanded, rising off the bed, snatching my panties down my legs as he stood.
I dropped my knees to the sides, his eyes honing in on my fingers playing between my legs.
“Jesus, fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rumbled, dragging the tips of his fingers up my thigh, over my stomach, and then down the other side.
“Touch me,” I begged.
Still staring down, he licked his lips then made the path up my other thigh, over, and down again.
“Haven’t been with anyone else,” he muttered.
“No one,” I confirmed. “Touch me.”
“Two fucking years and no one.”
Up one thigh.
Down the other.
“No one,” I repeated.
Up one thigh.
Down the other.
“I couldn’t do it. I knew I’d get back here one day, and I was not bringing another woman with me,” he confessed.
My hand stilled as my mouth fell open.
He hadn’t been talking about me.
He had been talking about himself.
&n
bsp; Oh.
My.
God.
For the first few months after our divorce, I had become physically ill at the idea of Roman being with someone else. Then, after Rubicon had taken off, I’d accepted it as fact. On top of the sexy, smart, and charming man he’d always been, he’d become wildly successful and wealthy to boot. I’d figured women were probably lining up outside his office.
Now, hearing him say that he hadn’t been able do it blanketed me in love.
“Keep going,” he ordered, his hand still traveling up one thigh and down the other as he stood beside the bed, staring down at me.
My fingers went back to moving, but I was blinking tears back.
“No one?” I squeaked.
He finally lifted his eyes to mine. “I work a lot, but I could’ve made time. To date or whatever the hell people tell you to do after a divorce. But I always knew it wasn’t over with us, and I refused to tarnish that with someone else.”
Oh.
My.
God.
My throat closed, and that love flooding my system turned into an all-out wildfire.
Roman Leblanc was mine.
All of him.
Even when he wasn’t.
Moving my hand to catch his wrist, I gave him a tug. “Come here, Roman.”
He didn’t move. He just continued to stare down at me, his face unreadable.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I sat up and kissed just above his navel.
Going for the button on his jeans, I told him, “I want to feel you, baby. Now’s not the night for you to watch.” I undid his zipper and pushed the denim down his legs, his thick erection springing free. “However, I’m gonna taste you first. So you can watch for a few minutes longer.”
His abs rippled as I wrapped my palm around his cock and guided it to my lips.
“Fuck,” he rumbled when I took him to the back of my throat.
I used my hand to work his shaft, my mouth paying special attention to his sensitive crown. His cock twitched with every swirl of my tongue. As I continued to slide him in and out of my mouth, one of his hands dipped to my breast, tugging on my nipple and shooting a tingle down my spine.
He brushed my long hair away from one side of my face, and I glanced up to find him watching, his gaze so intense that it caused goose bumps to pebble my skin.
“Missed your mouth, Lis,” he said, fisting the back of my hair.
I cried out as he gave it a sharp, but still in-fucking-credible, tug and popped himself free of my mouth.
“Missed watching you ride my cock more.”
“Yes,” I moaned.
I’d missed that, too. A hell of a lot.
He smirked. “You ready, baby, or you need me to help with that?”
If help meant his dexterous fingers finally finding their way inside me, then yes, I absolutely wanted help. But I didn’t need it. I was more than wet and completely ready. And, judging by the glint in his smoky eyes, he wasn’t just going to watch me ride him.
I knew that look well, and I was usually naked before he ever touched me whenever he wore it. He was going to take me from the bottom after he drove me to sheer insanity with his thumb at my clit.
It was one of his favorite ways to fuck me.
But it was my absolute favorite of all.
Because of this, I did not delay in standing, rolling up to my toes, ghosting my lips across his, and confirming, “I’m ready.”
The side of his mouth hiked as he released the back of my hair and gave the bed a chin lift.
I followed his unspoken order and climbed up, watching him step out of his jeans and then prowl up after me.
He didn’t touch me as he passed, but I shivered all the same as he settled his muscular body with his back to the headboard. My core clenched as he wrapped his large hand around his cock and gave it a firm stroke.
His gaze lifted to mine, his eyes so dark that they were barely recognizable. “Gotta say I love the way you’re looking at me, but all I’ve had is my hand for the last few years. I’m gonna need you to get your ass over here, climb on top, and give me that pussy.”
He did not have to tell me twice.
I moved at near pissed-off-Roman-Leblanc speeds (but not quite) and did exactly as he’d said. I climbed onto his lap, lined us up, and slowly sank down on his cock.
We both bit a curse back when I took him to the hilt. One of his hands went to my ass and rocked me back and forth as if he were trying to make sure I’d taken every last millimeter of him. It was not a hardship because my clit found much-needed friction on his stomach.
I closed my eyes, threw my head back, and ground down harder.
His hands found my breasts and began kneading and plucking as I glided up and down his length.
I set my pace and stuck with it even as his hands became frenzied.
“Find it, Lis,” he growled.
I moaned an unintelligible response, leisurely enjoying the hunt.
Suddenly, his hips thrust up, slamming in deep and snatching my orgasm before I could even prepare.
“Roman,” I cried, my body shaking as my release tore through me. My hands flew to his pecs for balance, but just as quickly, his arms folded around me, holding me still as he drove up inside me.
It wasn’t his usual MO, but it was no less amazing. Thrust after thrust, his strong arms held me to his chest as he fucked me hard and fast. It was feral, and had it been any other man in the world, it would have been punishing.
But it was Roman, and he was back.
He was mine.
And I had always been his.
No one else.
I clung to his shoulders, biting and sucking up and down his neck as he bucked beneath me, slamming in deeper.
It didn’t take long before another orgasm started to build, my entire body going tense as it rose within me.
“You gonna give me another one?” he asked on a pant.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Then hurry up,” he ordered, driving back in.
As though I had a choice.
And I really didn’t have a choice as he bottomed out inside me and circled his hips in an overwhelming combination I couldn’t fight.
With my face buried in his neck, I let go and came apart in his arms.
He held me tight, gliding in and out for a few more strokes before he let go, too.
“Fuck, Lis,” he hissed, his cock jerking as he emptied inside me.
I’d had sex with Roman more times than I could count, but never once had I felt like I’d lost a piece of myself in the process.
I was scared he couldn’t say the same, because as I collapsed on his chest, his arms slack at his side, I knew with an absolute certainty I’d taken a piece of Roman Leblanc, and it filled me in immeasurable ways.
Something had broken between us.
But, in the process, something had also been repaired.
Chapter Seventeen
Roman
Never in all of our years together had I taken Elisabeth so savagely. With the exception of having her hair pulled, she was a slow-build kind of girl. But it had been too long without her—I couldn’t keep myself in check. She didn’t complain though, and as her body sagged on my chest, sated and spent, I didn’t figure she was going to.
“You good?” I asked the top of her hair.
“Mmmm,” was her only reply.
I chuckled. “You gonna get cleaned up?”
“Can I say no?” she mumbled.
“You could. But you know you’ll get up in the middle of the night and do it anyway.”
She groaned but didn’t move a muscle.
I gave her ass a squeeze and urged, “Come on, baby. I’ll go down and lock up and get Loretta in. Meet you back here in a minute.”
“You know, you never got your shower. Or beer. Or burger.”
I smiled and gave her ass another squeeze. “No, but I got my fill of you. I’ll survive.”
She giggled, ro
lling off me.
I rose from the bed and went to my bag in the corner. My entire life was in that bag. I’d given Seth strict instructions about what to pack. All the clothes from my dressers—and my laundry hamper—sneakers, boots, and flip-flops from the closet, the gun from my nightstand, and a single picture of Elisabeth and Tripp taken minutes before he had taken his last breath. They were the only things I wanted from that shitty garage apartment. Sure, I had a closet full of suits and expensive shoes. There were also two computers, a big-screen TV, a ratty-ass couch, and about a million stacks of papers that had somehow migrated from the office over the years.
But I didn’t care about any of that. I could lose everything else tomorrow, and as long as that bag sat in the corner of Elisabeth’s bedroom, I’d have everything I’d ever need.
And, as I pulled a pair of boxer briefs on, looking at her as she sat naked and pink-cheeked on the bed while staring back at me, I decided I didn’t even need the bag.
I walked back over to her and planted a fist on the bed. After a brief kiss, I said, “Clean up, baby. Two minutes. Want you right back here.”
“Okay,” she replied.
I kissed her again then headed for the door.
“Roman,” she called.
I looked over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
My throat tightened. “Nothing—”
“For not seeing how deeply you were affected by the infertility stuff. For not understanding your reaction to losing Tripp. And, most of all, for not fighting harder for us.”
“Lis…” I shook my head. “That is not on you.”
“But it is. And I’m sorry.”
I raked a hand through my hair and looked at her.
All innocent angel staring back at me.
My chest ached for the past even as my heart sped with possibilities of the future.
I opened my mouth to say…something. What, I didn’t know.
It probably would have been, I love you, but I feared it would be, Marry me.
I would have meant both, but it was too soon for either.
She finally broke the moment with a soft, “Go get Loretta, baby. Two minutes.”
I nodded but didn’t move. I needed to say something. I wanted her to understand I didn’t need an apology from her but I appreciated the fact that she had still given it to me.
