Fatal Deception

by April Hunt

  Roman didn’t like walls or confinement, and the open floor plan, bisected only by stylish privacy screens that Zoey and Grace had been adamant he needed, worked for him.

  Isa padded barefoot over toward his wall-length bookshelf and thumbed through his eclectic selection. “Did you actually read all these, or are they just for decoration?”

  “I don’t do decoration, so yeah, I read them.”

  Her lips twitched as she slid one out. “Even Jane Austen?”

  Roman shrugged. “Not much else to do when you’re laid up in a hospital bed.”

  She slipped Pride and Prejudice back into its slot and shifted toward the pictures. He had a lot of them, most of them gifted to him by his mother. There were pics of him and his brothers growing up, of celebrations and parties. Milestones. There were even a few from his time in the Army, before he’d been selected for the special assignment.

  “I like your friends and family.” Isa finally broke the silence as she stopped in front of a group picture that had been taken at Zoey’s welcome home party after her last heart surgery. In it, no one was looking at the camera, and Ryder and Liam were in a heated argument.

  “They’re all family…even my friends.”

  “That’s nice.” Her gaze slid from his framed pictures to him, the tension that had been in the truck filling the larger room even more. “I don’t have much of either. I’m an only child, and I see my parents maybe a weekend a year. I try to visit my grandfather more often, but sometimes life gets in the way.”

  “It does have the habit of doing that.”

  “And I have the bad habit of letting it.” Isabel’s big brown eyes darkened, more expressive than a five-thousand-word essay. Desire and a healthy dose of need swam in their depths and pushed Roman right back to the ledge he’d been teetering on in that back room.

  One small jolt was all his body needed to light up like a live wire—but he’d be damned if he’d make the first move without knowing with one hundred percent certainty that she was completely on board with whatever happened next.

  He could see her heartbeat pulsing at the base of her throat as she turned toward him. “Who’s the real Roman Steele? The man who voluntarily reads Jane Austen and has a dozen family pictures on his bookshelf? Or the broody, arrogant Special Forces operator who dishes out orders like candy to trick-or-treaters?”

  Roman leaned against the end of the large shelving unit. “Honestly? Both. But I’m not real big on letting the first Roman roam free too often.”

  “That’s a shame, because the latter Roman epitomizes everything I’ve told myself I don’t want in a man. No offense.”

  Roman cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that you’re looking for, Dr. Santiago?”

  “What my grandparents had before my grandmother died—comfortable moments of silence and sweet gestures of thoughtfulness.” Her gaze locked on his. “Something cozy and long-lasting.”

  “Are you describing a man or a damn couch?” Roman quipped. “But you’re right. None of that’s me. I’m more into hot, quick, and dirty. Anything else?”

  “I want slow walks and long talks.” Isabel took a small step closer.

  “My motto is run, don’t walk. And I’m sure as hell not a big talker—especially about my feelings.”

  Isabel stepped again, stopping as her bare feet bumped against his boots. She tilted her head back, maintaining eye contact, and her dark hair cascaded down her back like a silken wave. Roman fisted his hands at his sides to avoid reaching out and testing the softness himself.

  Isabel’s attention briefly flickered down to his mouth. “And I want someone to look at me as if they’d steal the moon for me if I asked.”

  “You want an awful lot.”

  “I do.” Isa slid her hands up his chest. “But it just so happens that I also want you.”

  Roman gently captured her wrists before she slid her fingers into his hair. “You should know that everything you just mentioned? You’re not getting it from me, Doc.” Roman’s voice rumbled from his chest like a low growl. “I don’t do sweet. And I don’t do feelings unless you count the orgasms I’ll give you with a good hard fucking.”

  “I know, and I’m okay with that. I just need…this.”

  Roman eased his grip off her wrists and trailed his fingers up her bare arms. “I want you to spell this out for me, Doc. What are you asking for?”

  She shivered, eyes closing on a small sigh before locking on him. “I’m asking for you to fuck me.”

  Hearing her say the words aloud snapped Roman’s frail control. He dove his fingers into her hair and dragged her mouth to his in a hot, hard kiss that nearly knocked him on his ass. For the last twenty-four hours, he did his damned best to maintain his distance, and now he couldn’t pull her close enough.

  Chapter

  Seven

  An all-consuming need for Roman Steele tossed every ounce of good sense right out of Isa’s head. The man was everything she wasn’t looking for—broody and closed off—and not to mention the owner of a hero complex a few miles wide.

  But she couldn’t deny he made her feel things she hadn’t in a long time. It wasn’t one emotion, but all of them. One minute she’d envision throttling him with her bare hands, and in the next, hugging his hurts away. Thirty seconds later, an egotistical comment would send her right back to plotting his demise…or kissing him mute.

  There was absolutely no rhyme or reason for the draw she felt toward the infuriating man, and the more she tried figuring it out, the more confused she got. The only thing she’d deduced with one hundred percent certainty was that emotions were damn addictive…and she didn’t want it to stop anytime soon.

  She’d gotten way too good at living her life on autopilot, never detouring from the normal route. She’d plateaued, fearful of all the pitfalls that came with risk taking, but if the last few days had taught her anything it was that following the straight path also meant never soaring high above.

  That’s what Isa wanted right now. She wanted to soar…even if it was temporary.

  Shifting her hands beneath Roman’s T-shirt, she trailed her palms up his rock-hard abs and across his chest, her nails catching on his hardening nipples.

  A growl rolled from Roman’s chest. “You’re playing with fire, Doc.”

  “Good.” She pushed his shirt up, and as it hit his shoulders, he took over, ripping it over his head before tossing it aside. Once clear, he dove right back into their kiss as if he hadn’t been able to physically stay away.

  Roman cupped her ass, grinding his hard cock against her stomach. “Legs around my waist.”

  Eager to be closer, she slid a leg up the outside of his thigh and felt the edge of his prosthesis beneath his jeans. “No. Don’t.”

  Roman froze. “Don’t?”

  “Don’t pick me up. Your—”

  “You think I can’t pick you up?” Roman’s dark eyes transformed to near black as he registered her concern. “Is that the only reason you told me to stop, Doc?”

  She nodded, not trusting her words.

  “Good,” Roman growled. “Wrap your legs around my waist. Now.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice. With the support of his large hands on her ass, Isa locked her legs around his waist. The second her feet left the ground, he pinned her against the wall, trailing his mouth down her neck.

  “Please tell me you’re not drunk.” Roman kissed the sensitive patch of skin just below her earlobe, making her groan.

  “I had one beer hours ago, and then nothing but sparkling water since.” Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and nipped his bottom lip. “Most guys wouldn’t take the time to get a drink tally when they had a woman’s legs wrapped around their waist.”

  “I’m not like a lot of other guys,” Roman grumbled.

  Wasn’t that the truth…

  “That’s why I’m exactly where I am right now.” Isa tugged his hair free of its band, and it fell around his shoulders like chocolate silk. She brus
hed her mouth against his once, then twice as she slowly rotated her hips against the large bulge pressing against her mound. “I’m not under the influence, Roman. And I’d very much like you to take me to your bed and fuck me senseless now, if you don’t mind.”

  With a low, sexy growl, Roman walked toward the bed and dropped them onto the mattress, where they worked together to take off her shirt.

  “Pink lace?” Through the sheer fabric, Roman fastened his greedy mouth to a hardening nipple.

  She arched her back, already sensing her body prepping to ignite. “Wait till you see the matching underwear.”

  “I don’t think I can…wait, I mean.”

  She really hoped that was the case.

  With a quick flick of his fingers, Roman unclasped her bra, his mouth ready and eager as her breasts spilled out. Alternating between slow, firm sucks and gentle glides of his tongue, he feasted on every inch of exposed skin.

  She reached for his pants, but his hand stopped her from lowering the zipper. “If they come off now this will be over in a flash.”

  “Then we’ll have time to do this all over again. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since I’ve had sex, Roman. I don’t want slow and easy. I want you inside me fifteen minutes ago.”

  He waited a beat.

  “Fifteen minutes and ten seconds.”

  “And you accuse me of being bossy.” Roman chuckled as he trailed his mouth from her breast down the center of her torso. They worked in tandem to ease her jeans—and lace panties—down her legs…and then there wasn’t an inch of her body that he didn’t let his eyes feast on. “That is one hell of a gorgeous sight.”

  He ran his nose along the inside of her leg. “Beautiful.”

  Isa’s knees would’ve buckled if she’d been standing.

  He flicked his tongue against her already swollen folds. “Fucking delicious.”

  Isa whimpered. “Roman, please.”

  “No need to beg, Doc,” Roman murmured less than an inch from her mound. “It’s my pleasure…and soon it’ll be yours.”

  As his tongue came into contact with her mound, Isa’s body bowed off the mattress. Her fingers dug into his hair as she held him closer. Not that she needed to. Pleasure rippled through her as his tongue rolled over her aching clit in soft, slow circles, again and again, with no sign of stopping.

  “Whoa boy.” Her eyes drifted closed before she wrestled them open to watch the greedy man between her legs.

  And Roman was greedy. He licked and nibbled, and as she panted to keep from losing consciousness, she registered the slow rub of his fingers…never entering, only caressing.

  Teasing.

  “Let go.” Reaching one large hand up to her breast, Roman brushed his thumb over her already deliciously aching nipple and continued to feast. “Come on my tongue, Doc. I want to taste everything you have to give me.”

  And that’s just what she did. The pleasure coiled low in her abdomen crested in one huge wave, rolling its way through her entire body. Roman stayed with her through it all, his mouth caressing her until her orgasm dimmed to a warm, dull throb.

  Roman crawled his way back up her body, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. “Enjoy that, did you?”

  “Most definitely.” Smirking, she reached for the button of his jeans. “And now that you took the edge off, these jeans need to disappear.”

  * * *

  No matter how bad he wanted to be inside Isa, Roman needed a breather or this would end before it even got started. As she dealt with his zipper, he reached into his bedside table for the unopened box of condoms and inconspicuously checked out the expiration date. Still good.

  Isabel wasn’t the only one who’d had a long sexual hiatus.

  Her small hand wrapped around his aching cock and squeezed.

  “Fuck.” He fumbled with the condoms, dropping a strand of rubbers on the bed.

  Isa chuckled. “Was it something I did?”

  “You didn’t strike me as a tease, Doc.”

  “It’s only teasing if I don’t plan on following through—which I do.” She pushed him onto his back. Her bare body hovered over him as she worked his jeans down his legs.

  His prosthetic came into view. “Leave the jeans on.”

  Isa’s eyes shifted up to him. “Why?”

  Because the number of sexual partners—post-amputation—could be counted on one hand, and none of them had been particularly comfortable experiences, never mind sexually satisfying.

  “Makes it easier to believe it’s still there,” Roman answered gruffly. “Some women get a little freaked out when they realize there’s not as many appendages in the bed as there should be.”

  Keeping her eyes locked on his, Isabel’s hand deftly worked the straps of his prosthetic. “Just like you’re not like most guys, Roman Steele, I’m not like most women.”

  She sure as hell wasn’t.

  Isabel’s long hair brushed against his already tingling skin. Having her on top of him, naked, hadn’t diminished his desire one damn bit, but as he eased his stump sock off and set his prosthetic on the floor, he watched her for any sign she’d changed her mind.

  But Isabel didn’t bat a single dark eyelash as she shifted over his legs, her fingertips brushing over his scars and up his thighs. Roman sucked in a breath and her hooded brown eyes drifted up to him.

  “Is this okay?” she asked.

  His gaze flickered down to his growing erection. “Does it look like it’s okay?”

  Isabel’s little pink tongue flicked out, wetting her bottom lip as she plucked a condom from his fingers. “Let me.”

  Roman flexed his grip on her hips and prayed he didn’t embarrass himself as she rolled it onto his shaft. The second it was rolled right up to his base, he tugged her on top of him and took her mouth with his.

  “Oh, now you’re Mr. Eager,” Isabel teased, her tongue playing with his.

  “I’ve never not been eager to get inside you.”

  “Good. Then we’re on the same page.” She rubbed her wet slit over his cock twice before he couldn’t take it anymore. Gripping her waist, he flipped her to her back, and then he sunk into her in one hard thrust.

  They groaned simultaneously.

  “Yes. More.” Isabel’s hands dug into his back, urging him on, and that’s what he did.

  Hiking her left leg high over his hip and palming her ass, he thrust again.

  “Don’t stop.” Isabel panted. “Harder, Roman.”

  He groaned. “You’re killing me here, sweetheart.”

  But he obeyed, dropping his mouth onto hers as they worked themselves into a hard, quick rhythm that had sweat dripping off their bodies. His cocked throbbed, and his balls, begging for release, tightened against his body…but no way was he coming without her.

  Slipping a hand between them, he brushed his thumb against her clit. Once. Twice.

  Isabel screamed his name, her pussy squeezing his cock. The pulse of her body fueled his own climax and Roman erupted. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over them both until he dropped next to her, sweaty and out of breath.

  “Now that’s how every sexual hiatus should be shattered.” Isabel sighed.

  He half expected her to give him her back, or hell, kick him out of his own bed. Instead, she hooked her thigh over his right leg and nestled into the crook of his arm.

  Roman froze.

  He never snuggled—not once in his thirty-two years. Just the idea of it had always sent him running for the hills or, at the very least, out for a jog. But that wasn’t the case now. Unwilling to move to even hit the bathroom, he dealt with the condom one-handed and curled his other arm around Isabel’s shoulders.

  Her sleepy sigh wrapped around him, as did a warm feeling of contentment.

  Dropping his chin to the top of her head, Roman was too damn exhausted—and physically satisfied—to worry about how right it felt.

  Chapter

  Eight

  Isabel’s brain slowly woke up, as did the
rest of her body. Lifting her arms above her head, she savored the warm stretch of muscles that had been well used. This time it wasn’t because she’d run a few laps around Constitution Gardens.

  She’d done a few rounds with Roman.

  No one could regret sex like that. She’d shut off her overactive mind and just reacted, each decision made based on the heat of the moment. Figuratively and literally. Her only concern was what happened next, because the second they found her virus and the people responsible, Roman Steele would be out of her life.

  She could enjoy his sexual prowess until then. As a matter of fact, she really hoped that’s what he had planned, too. If last night showed her anything—other than multiple orgasms—it was that she’d closed herself off to people for way too long.

  It was what came next that concerned her, because that feeling of freedom was addictive, and Roman still wasn’t the type of man she envisioned herself with for more than anything than he did last night.

  He was camo when she saw a suit. He was an Uzi when she saw a briefcase. Roman Steele was an unpredictable, wild, carefree spirit when all she hoped for was steadfast, safe, and dependable. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind he wasn’t the perfect guy for someone…but she wasn’t an FBI profiler like Grace, or a crime scene investigator like Zoey.

  She was just her. Yeah, she’d served her country in the Army, but she’d spent more time behind the microscope than she did a battlefield. Roman needed his own Grace, or Zoey, or even Jaz.

  Scents of coffee and frying bacon permeated the air and coaxed Isa from bed and back into her panties. She tugged Roman’s discarded T-shirt over her head and padded barefoot toward the mouthwatering smell. Instead, she found a mouthwatering sight.

  Shirtless in front of the stove, Roman turned bacon with one hand while flipping pancakes with the other. Drawstring shorts hung low on his hips, showcasing the abs she’d spent a lot of time tasting last night.

  This was the first time he’d had his prosthetic on display other than that first morning in the gym, and she wondered if that had been accidental or on purpose. Her belief that nothing could rattle the former Special Forces soldier had been proven wrong last night.