After a moment’s hesitation, she did so, and he immediately dragged her back against him, pulling her to his body for another long, lingering kiss. “I just want you to know that nothing about you is disappointing in the slightest. That was fucking amazing.”
She snuggled against him, feeling a bit more relaxed now that the crisis was over. Really, her entire body was feeling pretty good right about now, though she ached a little between her legs, still, as if she were missing something. It was a good ache, though. “So what do we do now?”
Rome brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “What do you feel like doing?”
His eyes were still that sleepy blue of desire, she noticed, and she thought of that tent in his jeans from earlier. She glanced down at his lap and, sure enough, he was still hard. “Call me crazy, but isn’t the goal of making out usually for both people to get off?”
He shrugged, and his finger traced her jaw. He just liked touching her, it seemed. “We’re taking it slow, remember?”
“That seems . . . really slow for you.”
He laughed. “I’m a patient man.”
“My jeans won’t be dry for a while.”
He curled a lock of her hair around his fingers and gave her another soft smile that made her heart thud. “I don’t mind if you stick around.”
Rome Lozada seemed too good to be true, Elise suspected. He was a gorgeous man with wild piercings, even wilder tattoos, and a killer body. And he didn’t mind when she acted all virginal and silly. So had she scored the jackpot here, or was there more to him that she didn’t know? How could she tell?
He tilted his head, trying to keep eye contact with her. “What are you thinking?”
“Just wondering about you.”
His eyes lit up. “Wondering about touching me?”
Well, no, she hadn’t been, but . . . now that he mentioned it, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Do you want me to?”
“Only if you want to. This is all about you tonight.”
She thought about that earth-shattering orgasm he’d given her earlier, and how unfair it seemed that he didn’t get one in return. But was she ready to just stick her hand in his pants and do to him what he did to her?
Elise wasn’t so sure about that. “I’m feeling a little shy,” she admitted.
“Just do what you like. There’s no pressure.”
“What if I just want to kiss you?”
“That’s fine.” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, the hoop dancing, and she laughed.
“Maybe just a few kisses,” she said, and leaned in to put her arms around his neck. But instead, he pulled her by the waist and dragged her to straddle his lap.
“That’s better,” he said, and his voice held a note of strain.
Elise tensed. Her current position was a vulnerable one. Spread over his lap, she had no choice but to face him, and her sex was spread open wide right over his straining groin.
But . . . gosh, he looked so gorgeous. She couldn’t help but reach out and brush her fingertips down the front of his shirt, then pull it gently open because she wanted to unwrap him like a package.
“Want me to help you with that?” His voice was husky, soft, and delicious.
She nodded.
He sat forward, and his face pressed almost into her breasts as he shrugged off the plaid shirt. She giggled, surprised, and the giggle turned into a gasp when he arched his hips . . . and his cock pressed up against her sex through the fabric.
Then he peeled off the undershirt and tossed it to the side, He sat back against the wall again, and all that tattooed, bare flesh was hers to explore.
Oh. “You look so . . .” Her fingers lightly touched the wing of a bird that curved across his pectorals. It was a hawk, but stylized in a way that looked like Southwestern influences mixed with Maori. It was all geometric lines and angles and suggestions of patterns.
“Busy?” he asked, and there was a wry smile on his face.
“Beautiful.” Her fingers swept down the length of the bird’s wing, then followed the symmetrical feathers down to the extended claws. She touched another tattoo on his shoulder blade, this one of a rather vicious-looking eagle. “Why birds?”
He shrugged. “I like them. They seem free.”
Intriguing answer. She touched her tongue to one tattoo. “I was going to say your tattoos are ‘lovely,’ but that’s the wrong word to use for a man, isn’t it?”
“Any time you’re touching me, Elise, you can call me whatever you want,” Rome said softly, and that hoarse note was back in his throat. His hips bucked against hers again, and she felt that slow, languid throb in her sex once more.
This time, when he raised his hips, though, she rolled hers with him, and was rewarded with his groan of pleasure and the way he threw his head back, as if it was too much for him to take in.
He was stunning. She forgot all about learning him and decided she wanted to touch him very much, instead. Elise leaned forward and her mouth went to his neck, kissing at the Adam’s apple that bobbed and swallowed with every roll of her hips. She was doing it automatically now, riding him with small flexes of her hips and thighs, and feeling him strain against her in return. It was erotic . . . but totally safe because there were all these clothes between them. But Rome’s eyes were closed and she could watch him, fascinated, and kiss him to her heart’s content.
She did, too. She pressed little kisses to his neck, and when she wanted to lick him, she licked him, tasting his warm, tanned skin. He had a tattoo of a raven on his neck, and she lightly bit at that, too, just because he seemed so utterly biteable. Her breasts pressed against his chest and she continued to roll her hips, pressing down against his cock with every little movement and enjoying the way his breath seemed to hitch and relax in juxtaposition to her movements.
Her hands moved to his neck and she laced her fingers behind his head, feeling the soft buzz of the short hair at the base of his neck. She pressed a small kiss to his chin, then brushed her lips over his mouth . . . and took his lower lip between her teeth and tugged gently, mindful of the ring there.
He groaned, the sound rough, and then his hands were pressing to her thighs, her hips, and he began to push against her urgently, with more force. She followed his lead, returning his movements with a rolling of her hips. His eyes slid open, just a crack, and she was entranced by the hot desire she saw there, the raw need on his face. And she kissed him again, her tongue sliding into his mouth.
Rome sucked on it, even as he pushed her harder and harder, until she was bouncing on his jeans-covered cock, and the thin cotton boxers she wore didn’t seem like much of a barrier, and she was getting excited all over again, the roll of her hips and the press of his need against her making her breathless.
But then his eyes squeezed shut, and his face contorted as if in agony, and she froze. His kiss became desperate, his breathing raspy, and she realized . . . he’d just come, too. Elise sucked in a breath, surprised.
Rome heaved a long, satisfied breath, holding her close against him. Then he kissed her mouth and said, “Now both of us have come in our pants tonight.”
And what could she do but laugh?
SEVEN
Well, damn.
Rome held a sleeping Elise against his chest and stared up at the ceiling of his small log cabin. Despite the late hour, he was wide awake. His mind was whirling with all kinds of thoughts about that evening, and most of them were about the woman at his side.
There was no doubt in his mind that Elise was just as sheltered as she claimed—maybe even more so. The way she’d reacted when she’d come told him she wasn’t as familiar with her body as she thought.
Of course, he’d been fucking elated. When she’d confessed that she was a virgin, he thought he’d have to go extra slow. Elise was skittish as hell, and when she got intimidated or scared—which was often—she shut down. But when he’d felt how wet she was, how totally turned on, the game had changed. This wasn’t a woman terrified of sex
who he’d have to gently ease into lovemaking. This was an erotic woman just waiting to be freed from her own restraints.
And she was completely into his touch; she couldn’t fake that kind of wetness coming from her pussy, nor could she fake the way she’d squirted when she came.
He’d never had a squirter before. Hell, he hated the term because it sounded disgusting, and he’d been as shocked as she was when it had happened . . . but damn if it hadn’t been amazing. He’d made her squirt.
That did amazing things for his ego, he had to admit. And more than that, he wanted to see if he could get her to do it again. To see if she lost control so totally every time she had sex, or if that was just a lot of pent-up arousal breaking free. He was willing to bet that she went wild every time she was touched.
It was like Elise Markham was a gift, wrapped in a pretty, incredibly shy package.
He didn’t get it, either. That cheek of hers was barely noticeable. Heck, he didn’t think he’d have seen it at all if she hadn’t pointed it out. He might have just attributed it to a trick of the light. He’d caught a glimpse of the long scar on her spine when she’d jumped from bed, and wondered about it, but he didn’t ask. She was clearly sensitive about that sort of thing.
He hadn’t teased her about the granny panties hanging on his shower bar, though he’d desperately wanted to. Elise wasn’t quite ready for teasing, he suspected. She was still sensitive and fragile.
And yet . . . she slept in his arms like a baby. Even now her cheek rested on his shoulder, her arm thrown over his waist as if she’d slept next to men all her life. Her bare leg was tangled with his, and he loved the press of her body against his own. Just the feel of her was reminding him of the way she’d ridden his cock while sitting atop him, kissing him until he’d come in his pants.
That had been incredibly erotic, so erotic that his intentions on getting her off again had fallen to the wayside in lieu of his own pleasure. His hand stroked through her hair again, thinking about her. She deserved better than a guy like him.
Way better.
A girl like Elise was a treasure. She was smart, classy, and had wonderful sparks of humor under all that shyness. She was eager in bed, and starved for attention. Even now, she clung to him.
She’d make some guy a great girlfriend.
Unfortunately for him, it couldn’t be Rome. It wasn’t just the fact that her brother was just looking for an excuse to can his ass. Rome was pretty much living on borrowed time. It was a matter of days, maybe weeks, before someone got suspicious, ran a background check on him, and found out his past.
Then Grant wouldn’t need an excuse to fire him.
Then Elise would stop looking at him with those soft, reverent eyes.
He’d be nothing but shit beneath their feet, and it’d be time to move on once again.
Rome dragged his hand through Elise’s silky hair again, admiring the way it glided and fell through his fingers like water.
If he was a nice guy, he’d cut a nice girl like Elise loose before she got her feelings hurt. He’d tell her that it was wrong for him to fool around with her, and that she deserved someone better than him. She’d be wounded for a few days, but she’d get over it and they’d go their separate ways.
It was too bad he wasn’t a nice guy, because he wasn’t about to let her go. Right now, Elise Markham was the most fascinating thing in Rome’s life, and he intended to pursue her and monopolize her until she blew him off. She would, eventually. It was just a matter of time.
But until then? Ah, being with her would be sweet.
• • •
He woke her up early, before the sun rose in the skies. She was lovely in her sleep, her dark hair all tumbled and mussed, her eyelids heavy, and he hated to rouse her. In sleep, her expression was so open, so peaceful, completely unguarded. But he knew she’d want to be out of his cabin before the day began, so he gently ran a knuckle along her jaw, pleased when she turned toward the gesture.
“Mmm,” she said softly, smiling up at him, the shyness back in her face. “What time is it?”
“Before dawn. We should get you home before anyone notices you’re missing.”
“Oh.” She sat up abruptly. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”
He watched her backside sashay as she headed to the bathroom. She filled out his boxers rather well, Rome thought, and made a mental note to take her someplace and get her some naughty underthings. After he got paid, of course.
Rome tugged on a shirt and a new pair of jeans, since he’d made a mess of his old ones last night while fooling around with Elise. Considering he only had two pairs of jeans, that meant today was laundry day.
Elise reappeared a few minutes later, her hair pulled into a messy knot atop her head that made her look even more well-fucked than before, and her hands smoothed down her wrinkled jeans. “They’re a little wet still, but not too bad.”
He finished pulling on his boots and laced them up. “You want to go get breakfast somewhere? My treat.” He only had a few bucks in his bank account, but hey, he’d buy his girl some coffee if she asked for it.
She shook her head shyly. “I’m fine. I think I’ll just go home and shower.” Her cheeks pinked again.
“All right.” He couldn’t tell if she was blowing him off. Was she regretting last night? It was hard to tell with Elise—everything seemed to rattle her. He didn’t like the thought of her pushing him away, though. “When did you want to get together again?”
She shrugged, silent.
That . . . definitely felt like a blowoff. Was it because she was embarrassed? Or because in the light of day she realized he was just some shitty loser with tats and she could do better?
He didn’t like not knowing, so he couldn’t resist pushing just a bit more. “You still want to do that photo shoot?”
This time, her eyes lit up. “You want to do it?”
“For you? Yeah.”
The look she gave him was meltingly sweet. “I’d love to. When is good for you?”
He pocketed his keys, then looked over at her. “I’m off today and then work days until we open the paintball course. How about you?”
“Today might not be good,” she said, nibbling on a long fingernail. “I haven’t seen Grant in a few days, so I need to spend some time with him. Maybe tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, that’s fine with me.” He’d clear all the time in his schedule she needed.
She practically beamed. “Wonderful. You want to meet at the salon after work? I’ll bring food again.”
“I’m not one to turn down a free meal,” he told her with a grin.
She ducked her head shyly.
“Hey,” he said, touching her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “You’re not feeling weird about last night, are you?”
Elise bit her lip and gave him a small, hesitant smile. “Just wondering why you’d spend your free time with me, is all, really. I can’t be fun company.”
“You’re the best company I’ve had in a long time,” he told her honestly. “And I’d spend every minute with you if I could.”
At least until she started looking at him with loathing.
• • •
When he returned from dropping Elise off at the bed-and-breakfast, Rome’s mood grew foul the moment he spotted the new motorcycle in the parking lot.
The owner of the bike was seated on it, arms crossed, enjoying a cigarette. He looked over at Rome as his bike pulled up.
His brother. God damn it.
Rome parked his bike next to Jericho’s but didn’t turn it off. “What are you doing here?”
Jericho tossed his cigarette on the ground and gave Rome a familiar smile. “Thought I’d come say hi. Check out the new digs.” He nodded at the row of cozy cabins. “You camping or something?”
“I don’t want to talk to you here, so either leave or let’s go somewhere else.”
“Breakfast? There’s a Waffle House down the highway.”
He gave a
jerky nod and backed his bike out of the parking space, taking off and not bothering to see if Jericho was going to follow him. He was furious. If Jericho knew where he was, that meant his mother and father weren’t far behind. They’d show up with all their issues, and he’d be drawn back in again.
And then his life would be fucked-up all over once more.
Rome seethed all the way to the Waffle House. He was still seething when he parked his bike and stomped into the diner, practically flinging himself at the first booth he saw. He knew the waitress was giving him odd looks, but he didn’t much care. He didn’t want to eat half as much as he just wanted to get this over with.
Jericho sauntered in, smiling at everyone. That was his brother—all easy grins designed to put people at ease despite his leather-clad, tattooed body. For some reason, Jericho never let anything bother him. Laid-back to a fault, that was J.
Rome couldn’t act the same, though. Too much shit didn’t roll off his back.
Jericho casually sat across from him and picked up a menu card. “So. Long time, no see.”
“Not long enough,” Rome said, arms crossed. “How’d you find me?”
“You made the mistake of picking a small town,” Jericho said, shrugging. He smiled as the waitress brought him a coffee without him having ordered one, and Rome wondered if Jericho was here often. “I was passing through and someone saw my bike and asked if I knew the new guy that worked at the wilderness school. You know people think that everyone who owns a Harley knows each other. Funny thing is, though, in this case, they were right.”
It was his own fault. Damn it. He should have picked a bigger town than Bluebonnet, just kept on passing through until he found someplace he could be totally anonymous. He’d just have to up and leave again, like he always did.
For the first time, though, that bothered him. He thought of Elise’s softly smiling face, the way she clung to him when she slept, and for the first time Rome didn’t want to just pack up and skip town. Anger burned in his belly. “So what is it you want?”
Jericho raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Rome’s cold tone. “Wanted to say hi to my brother. That so wrong?”
The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving Page 11
