by Aven Ellis
“It’s fantastic, absolutely fantastic,” Victoria declares, her eyes lighting up. “My favourite headline was ‘SEXY LIZ WOWS IN DARING DRESS!’”
“I’m sure some people hated it,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter. You were sexy, elegant, and every bit the princess people want to see when they scroll through their royal feeds. Those are the people you are dressing for, don’t forget that. You also can’t discount how much attention you brought to the entrepreneur organisation,” Victoria says.
“Yes, I had the same thought. Any publicity about the dress will mention the reception and the cause,” I reply, taking a sip of my beer and shifting my attention back to Roman, who seems at ease with Charlie and Christian.
“I can’t wait to get to know him,” Victoria says.
“I worked with him all the way up until my engagement in November,” Clementine tells her. “Roman is a good guy. He knows who he is, and he’s comfortable in his skin.”
“Well, I think it’s time to get to know him now. Let’s see if he gets the Victoria seal of approval,” my sister says, moving into the living room.
Clementine leans in towards me. “Roman is so getting her stamp of approval.”
I laugh softly. “I think so, too.”
“Did Arthur congratulate you on your successful walkabout?”
“Arthur and Antonia did,” Clementine says, arching an eyebrow at me.
“Oh? Do tell.”
“She called me and said it was an acceptable appearance, and she thanked me for having the social sense to wear tights.”
I snort. Clementine laughs.
“It’s a breakthrough for us,” she says. “I think she sees now that her only path forward is to embrace me and get attention for being the doting, loving, future mother-in-law to the American finding her way.”
I roll my eyes. “Vomit.”
Clementine snickers. “I know, but compared to the tea from hell I had last summer? We’ve come a long way.”
“Speaking of tea, I have been summoned tomorrow, for wearing pink. Oh, and I was advised to wear white tonight.”
Clementine flinches. “Oh, Liz, you threw gas on a fire.”
“I know, but I want to be me. It’s time to trust that I am enough with my work and what I do. I don’t want to use white to play it safe anymore. If colours threaten Antonia, that’s too bad.”
Clementine is quiet for a moment, and my stomach tightens, as I know what she’s thinking.
“Are you ready for what is to come from this?” she asks.
I glance back at Roman, who is smiling and talking to Victoria. “Yes,” I say, knowing he will stand behind me and be there with me no matter what Antonia decides to do to me because of my revolt.
“It makes all the difference, you know, having someone who believes in you and is on your team.”
“I want what you and Christian have.”
“I think you’re looking in the right place for it.”
As I stare at Roman, I know she’s right.
More to the point, my heart does, too.
“I love your family,” Roman says as we walk back towards my cottage.
I smile happily, my arm tucked around his. It’s late, after one o’clock in the morning, and the evening was beyond anything I could have asked for.
Roman fell into place quickly and talked easily with Charlie and Christian. I know Christian put on football as an ice breaker, and it worked. Nothing like a good, hearty debate about favourite football teams to pull men together.
Victoria monopolised him and, once she was finished, came over to me and said he was dead sexy and wonderfully down-to-earth and she was madly jealous I found all of that in one package.
The rest of the evening consisted of consuming way too much pizza and talking and sharing funny stories about our lives. In short, it was perfect, and I can’t wait for us to have everyone over to my cottage for dinner soon.
“I’m so glad. They loved you, too,” I say.
“I’m so grateful. I was worried. I’m not from this world, so I wasn’t sure.”
“You’re a good person. They don’t need for you to play polo or have an earldom in your future,” I say, thinking of Charlie. “All you needed was to be you.”
“This is still surreal, Lizzie.”
“I know it is, but in time, it will be normal.”
Roman chuckles. “It will never be normal, but I will get used to it.”
I laugh, and he does, too.
“Have you noticed anything about Charlie?” he asks.
I glance up at him, for a moment taken by how beautiful he looks, and then refocus.
“What about Charlie?” I ask, curious.
“You actually haven’t noticed?” Roman asks, his deep voice steeped in surprise.
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s half in love with Victoria.”
I stop walking. “What?” I say, stunned. “Charlie?”
Roman grins. “Yes, Charlie. It’s so obvious.”
“How? How is it obvious? I think I would have noticed.”
Roman lifts his hand to my face and gently caresses it. “He watches her whenever she moves. He’s attentive to her when she speaks.”
I furrow my brow. “That’s good manners.”
“No, no, it’s more than that,” he insists. “Charlie gets her refills for her drinks and asks her questions about herself. I saw the way he stared at her when he thought nobody was looking. It’s how I looked at you when you appeared in the newsfeed on my phone last summer. Something I wanted but was completely unobtainable.”
My heart surges from his confession.
“I wasn’t unobtainable,” I say, sliding my hands up his suit jacket.
“I know, but I believed you were. All I could do was study your pictures and think about how you would never even remember me. Charlie looks at Victoria like that.”
Charlie has known Victoria for a few years, and we have always hung out when Christian was home from university, but I never noticed this. Yet here is Roman, in his first meeting with my family and friends, and he sensed it.
“You’re such a sensitive, observant soul,” I say, rubbing my fingertips across his full lower lip. He captures my hand and presses a kiss against it.
“I know the look. Worse, I know the feeling,” he says softly.
I frown. “Charlie is a great guy, but Victoria will never see him as anything other than a future earl, and she wants nothing to do with that scene.”
Roman’s eyes widen. “He’s going to be an earl?”
“His current title is Viscount Hallcourt.”
Roman sighs, and I laugh.
“I’m dating a princess. And I spent the past few hours talking to a prince and a viscount. No, Lizzie, this world will always be surreal to me.”
We resume our walk, my mind fascinated by the idea of Charlie having feelings for Victoria. I never noticed it. Never.
Yet my wonderfully sensitive man did.
As we reach the door, Roman draws me to him. “It’s late.”
I slide my arms around his waist. “I know.”
“I have to be at work in a few hours. I don’t want to go, but I should.”
His mouth meets mine, opening it slowly. Roman’s tongue slides inside, seeking mine, causing heat to coil inside of me from his slow, deliberate kiss. My hands find his face, feeling the stubble underneath my palms, scratching it lightly as I caress him. I kiss him back, his strong body pressing against mine. I feel his body heat and drink in his scent. I want more than time can give us.
I tear my mouth from his and find his neck, trailing my tongue along it, feeling his hot skin and tasting him. Roman’s whole body grows more rigid as a result.
“Lizzie,” he manages to gasp as I kiss him. “You’re making me not want to go.”
I lift my head. I see his lips are parted and swollen with desire. The gold flecks in his eyes are dominant.
“Then don’t,
” I say, my heart racing. “Stay. Stay the night with me.”
Chapter 16
Don’t Drink the Tea
Roman’s eyes widen in shock at my invitation.
I asked him to spend the night.
My heart pounds with fury. I didn’t think about the invitation. I didn’t plan to offer it, but seeing him standing before me, feeling the passion that I do, my desire to have him took over.
He doesn’t speak. Neither do I. All I can hear is my heart in my ears as I wait for his answer.
“Lizzie,” he murmurs, framing my face in his massive hands and stroking me all over, “I’ve dreamt of this invitation since the first time I kissed your hand.”
His lips find mine, and I melt into him, my body craving this intimacy with a fury I have never known before.
“I’ve thought about it,” he murmurs, moving his lips to the side of my neck, “when I’ve kissed your lips. Touched your skin. Inhaled your floral perfume.”
I shiver violently as his lips move torturously down my neck. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around his neck, savouring the sensation of his warm breath against my skin.
“I want you,” I whisper. “I need to be with you, Roman.”
“Unlock the door,” he murmurs against my skin.
His mouth finds mine as my hand fumbles in my bag for my keys. I find them and slide my fingers to his lips to separate us. He laughs against my fingertips, and I force myself to turn around and slide the key into the lock. While I do, Roman slips his arms around my waist and begins kissing the nape of my neck. The second I feel his tongue flicker against my skin, I press my back into him, feeling his strong chest as his arms encircle me tighter.
It takes all my focus to get the door open, and when I do, we quickly step inside, shutting it behind us. As soon as it’s closed, our mouths meet. Roman controls the tempo with demanding kisses that make me breathless. Dizzy. I feel wanted by him in a way no man has ever wanted me before.
His hands are in my hair, fumbling with the hairpins and dropping them on the floor as he undoes my messy bun. I relish the feeling of his fingers combing through my hair as his tongue continues to command mine to match his.
My body responds to his touch with a burning urgency. If he wanted to take me on the staircase, he could. On this hallway floor. I jerk his shirt out of his suit trousers, freeing it, and slide my hand up underneath it.
Roman shudders when my hand makes contact with his waist. I gasp. The muscles are hard. I can feel each ridge, every single sculpted cut in his skin. He’s hot to the touch, and as my fingertips explore him, I feel his body go more rigid.
I draw his lower lip between my teeth and take a slight bite. Roman responds by returning the favour, causing me to whimper in ecstasy. My hand grabs his belt buckle, and I pull him forward. He chuckles against my lips, and I smile at the sensation. I walk backwards, guiding him towards the stairs. As soon as I hit the first step, and I become closer to his height, Roman abruptly stops kissing me.
“Lizzie, wait,” he gasps, his face one of alarm.
“What’s wrong?” I reply, trying to catch my breath. “Don’t you want this?”
He appears anguished.
“Roman, please. Have you changed your mind?” I ask, confusion filling me.
He frames my face with his huge hands, his gaze making me feel like he’s penetrating my soul.
“I’ve wanted this since the night you were at my flat,” Roman whispers, his eyes searching mine. “You are the woman I never thought I’d find. I never thought I’d feel this way again. The way I want you, it’s something I’ve never felt. I want to see the way you look at me. I want to hear your laugh. I want to hear your thoughts. I want your body to be mine when I make love to you. But are you sure you want me? I don’t want you to do this and think it’s a mistake. I haven’t been with a woman in years. I… I don’t want to be a regret.”
Tears fill my eyes. Roman is laying out his heart before me, his deepest fear, his confession about not having been with a woman since his ex. His raw vulnerability, his ability to say these words to me, tells me he’s putting his heart in my hands.
As I have put my heart in his.
I peer into his hazel eyes, the ones shimmering with concern, and I know my answer. “I want,” I say, pressing my palm against his cheek, “to hear your chuckle in my ear. I want your hands in mine. I want to see the world through your eyes and share experiences with you.”
Roman’s eyes grow watery from my confession.
“I want you in my bed,” I say, my heart doing all the talking. “I have no doubts, and I know I won’t have any regrets. Not about you. Not about tonight. And not about us.”
Not ever, I think.
I lock my hands around his neck and kiss him. Roman kisses me back slowly this time, gently. There’s a sweetness now to his kiss. His hands cradle my face, making me feel protected. Cherished.
With a jolt, I realise what I feel.
Loved.
Before I can process it, Roman scoops me up into his strong arms.
“Tell me where to go,” he whispers.
My head is spinning as I direct him up the stairs, to my room.
I can’t tear my eyes away from his face. The face of a man I feel like I’ve known forever instead of days. The one who makes me feel alive and sexy and confident enough to be my true self. I should question my feelings. I should lay them out and examine them. Be logical and think about how there’s no way I can be falling so hard and so fast in such a short period of time.
It’s a recipe for disaster.
Isn’t it?
Or is the old saying true, that the heart does indeed know what it wants?
Roman brings me into my bedroom and shifts his gaze to meet mine.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, gently placing me down in front of him. He kisses me again, stroking my hair, his fingers combing through the waves that have fallen down the back of my gown.
He gives me a sizzling kiss before turning me around, so my back is facing him. Roman’s mouth finds the back of my neck, and the second his tongue dances across my nape, I gasp in delight. His tongue flickers over my skin for a second before I feel his fingertips at the top of my dress, tugging on the zip.
His moves are deliberate. Slow. My heart pounds with each slow tug of the zip, easing it down until the dress falls open.
“My God,” he whispers, his rough hands skimming over my back and sending ripples of desire through me. “You’re perfection, Lizzie.”
Roman draws me to his chest, and I feel the fabric of his shirt against my skin. His hands reach around to my stomach, stroking it, then moving up towards my breasts, which are covered with a black strapless bra.
“Roman,” I murmur, arching my back against him.
Now his hands are caressing me everywhere, reverent touches that make me feel worshipped by this man. I record every gasp that escapes his lips, the hardness of his body, the warmth of his mouth now moving across my back and shoulders. His hands and lips are exploring, but I want to turn the tables.
I want to touch him. Taste him.
Make love to him.
I turn around and use his tie to pull him back towards my bed. Roman’s mouth recaptures mine, and we tumble backwards, with his body pinning me to the mattress.
“You,” I say, kissing him hard on the mouth, “are wearing way too many pieces of clothing.”
Roman laughs. “Is that so?”
I unknot his tie and throw it aside. He pushes himself up and rips off his suit jacket. He unbuttons his shirt, and my pulse quickens as he reveals the sculpted abs I felt moments ago.
I gasp. My God, he’s glorious. Bronzed and cut abdominals, massive pecs, with a light matting of hair starting from his chest and tailing down to a V-shape waist and the buckle on his suit trousers.
Roman is about to lower himself down on top of me, but I put a hand on his chest and playfully hold him in place.
“I believe your
trousers are still on, sir,” I say, cocking an eyebrow at him. “This won’t do.”
His mouth curves up. “No?”
He slowly undoes his buckle, driving me mad in the process.
“Faster,” I blurt out.
Roman roars with laughter. “Oh, is that a command, Your Royal Highness?”
“Indeed.”
He gets up and strips before me, dropping his trousers to the floor.
Oh. Dear. God.
He’s cut like a sculpture. His legs are huge and muscular, no doubt from all the physical labour he does. He’s muscled and taut and mine tonight.
“You’re glorious,” I whisper, taking him in.
Roman retrieves his wallet from his trousers and throws it on the bed. “I have a condom in there.”
“Good,” I say.
He finishes stripping and moves back over me, his skin against mine. Everything comes alive in me as our bodies entwine together. I stare up at him to find his eyes are locked on mine. God, the way he looks at me! I see desire. Tenderness. I know this man wants not only the physical me but all of me, down to my soul.
“I adore you, Lizzie,” Roman whispers to me. “I adore you.”
As his mouth claims mine, tears of joy swim in my eyes.
“I adore you, too,” I murmur against his lips, my voice thick. “More than you know.”
And as I kiss him, I know Roman will possess more than my body tonight.
Roman Lawler now has my heart.
Most ardently.
I stare at Roman, breathless. His eyes are searching mine with the same expression of wonder. I stroke his face, memorising every feature about him while reliving the intense way we made love. I’ve never felt more cherished and powerful, all in one fell swoop. Cherished by the deliberate way he touched me, brought me to orgasm, getting as much pleasure out of it as I did. I did the same for him, driving him over the edge when I took the lead, making me feel sexy and strong.
Yet the whole time, I felt this emotional connection to Roman that I’ve never had with another man. The way he looked at me, touched me, kissed me, called out my name—it wasn’t merely sex.
