by R. C. Martin
I open my mouth to speak, but I’m so surprised by her greeting that I don’t know what to say.
“I know you’re here for snuggles. Your husband left about an hour ago. He needed some snuggles, too.”
“Rome was here?” I murmur, stepping inside. “How—how was he?”
“In need of snuggles,” she replies dubiously. “Go. Sit.”
I do as I’m told, draping my coat over the back of the couch. When Daphne comes out a minute later, she hands me a folded blanket to lay over my shoulder to protect my shirt from Caroline’s drool. When my niece is placed in my arms, I feel a little lighter. She’s so warm and heavy with sleep. I stare down at her peaceful face. She looks so much like Trevor, it astounds me; but she got two of the most lovely Holloway features—her mahogany brown hair and pretty brown eyes.
“Okay. You snuggle, you talk. Pay up,” Daphne insists, taking the seat beside me.
I don’t bother looking over at her, knowing that she won’t mind. Instead, I run my fingers through Caroline’s angel soft hair and let out a sigh, trying to figure out what it is that I want to say. A part of me wants to say nothing at all. It’s nice to simply be in a space that isn’t shrouded in my bitchy situation.
“It’s a bitch,” I say softly.
“Yes. I know it’s complicated. Relationships usually are.”
I sigh once more, replaying the events of my early morning. “He’s ruining my favorite version of him.”
“And what version is that?”
A smirk curls my lips when I finally pull my eyes away from my niece and look over at my best friend. “My dirty sailor.”
“Your what?” she asks, her face scrunching up in disgust. I open my mouth to reply but she holds her hands up, signaling for me to stop. “Forget I asked. Fuck, LG. I do not need to know that shit. God—Roman and dirty are not two words that should be friends.”
“Oh, they are the best of friends. You have no idea,” I say with a laugh, amused by her repulsion. It feels really good to laugh, and in this moment, I know that this is exactly what I needed to get me through the rest of my day.
“Stop,” she insists, plugging both of her ears. “Just stop talking. This—this right here is the downside to being best friends with your brother’s wife. You two just need to talk—to each other,” she clarifies, hesitantly bringing her hands to her lap. “Seriously.”
“I’ve tried, Skank. It’s like every word I say goes in one ear and out the other. He has nothing to be concerned about, and yet he’s completely paranoid.”
“LG,” she begins to say, resting her hand on my knee. “He’s a knucklehead when it comes to you. Total caveman. You know this. You just have to keep saying what you need to say until it gets through his thick skull.”
“I just wish I could make him see that working with Judah is not that big of a deal. He’s very professional, when he wants to be. Not to mention—” I gasp when the most obvious counterargument to Roman’s paranoia comes to mind.
I can’t believe it took me this long to think of it.
Good God, his dick really does make me stupid.
“I have to go,” I say, gently lifting Caroline away from my body.
Daphne is quick to scoop her up before she asks, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just—I have to get back to work. I’m going to try and make it to Rome’s last session today, so I need to get some things done.” I stand, slipping into my coat hurriedly. “Thank you for the snuggle. And for listening.” I kiss the top of her head before I hurry for the door.
I’m now a woman on a mission. Tonight, I’m going to prove to my husband that Judah—or anyone else, for that matter—isn’t alluring enough to even scratch the surface of what we have.
I’m surprised to see her when she walks in, just a couple minutes before the last session of the day. I watch her from the front of the room as she heads to the cubbies. She folds her coat and tucks her belongings away before settling in the same spot I did earlier this morning—in the back of the room.
She’s wearing her yoga leggings, the black ones with the pink band around the top, PINK spelled down the side of her thigh. They stop mid-calf, sculpting her toned legs and gripping her tight ass. In spite of the cold weather, she’s wearing a white tank top over her hot pink sports bra, her arms completely bare. She’s piled her hair on top of her head into a messy bun, and she looks amazing. Just—so freaking gorgeous. All I want to do is walk up to her and take her mouth with mine.
But would she kiss me back? Would she understand that, even after just one day, the distance put between us because of this fight makes me miss her? Or would she think I was objectifying her? Making a statement about who she belongs to?
I’m pulled from my thoughts when a group of giggling girls walks by me, spreading out their mats in the front of the room. It’s time I get started. With Logan here, I hope I can concentrate and do my job.
The next hour passes neither fast, nor slow. As I call out directions, helping where I am needed, I find my gaze drifting back to the farthest mat about every thirty seconds. Logan’s in the zone, her body moving and stretching at my command. I want to touch her, but I try not to think about it. After the way she acted this morning, I’m not sure how to make her interpret my touch the way I mean it.
When my class is over, I’m quickly swept up in the commotion that always follows. As I’m fielding goodbyes and answering questions, I’m anxious to speak to the one woman who hasn’t said a word to me since she arrived. I’m not sure how much time passes before I manage to escape, the last group of girls finally making their exit. Looking around the room, I’m afraid I’ll find it vacant, but then I see her—her feet still bare, her yoga mat slung over her shoulder as she leans against the side wall. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Hey,” I murmur as my eyes lock with her precious green ones.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says in place of hello.
“Okay.”
She looks away from me as she makes her way to the front door. I watch, a little intrigued, a little confused. She spins the deadbolt and then pulls the shades, covering the only window that looks out into the street.
“Logan?”
Her eyes meet mine once more as she begins to make her way toward me. “I was thinking, how would I feel if I were in your shoes? How would I feel if you worked with someone that I didn’t like? You know me when I get jealous,” she says with a smirk. She’s standing right in front of me now and she grabs a fistful of my t-shirt. “I can be quite a bitch. You’ve seen it. We’ve fought about it—kind of like we’re fighting now.”
“Logan,” I begin to say. She shakes her head, pressing a finger to my lips, silencing me.
“I work with one man who looks at me in a way in which you don’t approve. You don’t like him. You don’t trust him. I get it. I don’t trust him either. Judah is a fantastic businessman and an exceptional designer. I admire his work—but his character? It could use a little work. I won’t argue with you about that. Nevertheless, like we’ve discussed—he comes with the job.
“You, on the other hand—you work with not just one, not even a dozen, but a revolving door of women who look at you as if they want to climb you like a tree.”
I jerk my head back, surprised by the direction this conversation is going, and she raises her eyebrows at me as if daring me to disagree. I’m not a complete idiot, so I keep my mouth shut.
“You spend hours in a room full of women with their asses sticking up in the air, their legs crammed into tight pants, and their boobs falling out of their bras. You touch them, adjusting their bodies when they need help—or when they pretend like they need your help.”
“Babe, you know I—”
“You’re mine,” she says, dragging her finger from my lips, over my chin, down my throat, and along my chest. My breath hitches in my throat when her hand slides into my shorts and under my boxers. I’m hard the second she wraps her fingers around my dick.
“Babe,” I breathe.
“I don’t like it anymore than you do, baby. I want to stake my claim every time I walk in here. But I get it—you’re charming and they all love it. You bring in business with your smile, and that voice—my God, your voice when it echoes in this room, Rome…” She groans and I gasp, gripping her hips and pulling her against me.
“Make your point, babe. Make your point before I kiss you and we both forget,” I growl.
“My point is, you’re mine and I know it! I know it, Roman—so when you touch them, when they flirt with you and bat their eyelashes, when they pretend like you’re not wearing a wedding ring, I don’t let it get to me; I stifle my inner bitch and I let you work. I let you work without complaint because you love it! Because, at the end of the day, this cock—” She tightens her grip and I free a groan, bending to rest my forehead against hers. “It’s mine. I know it. You know it—and neither of us has to prove anything otherwise. Are you hearing me?”
With her free hand, she reaches around and grabs my wrist, bringing my hand up until my palm is open against her chest, over her heart. “Yours,” she whispers. She then reaches for my other hand, guiding my fingers underneath the waistband of her yoga pants.
I need no further encouragement, and my hand is cupped around her naked pussy in a second. “Mine,” I grumble.
“Yours,” she moans. “I’m all yours, baby. All yours.”
He crashes his lips against mine and I let him kiss me. I part my lips for him, his tongue sweeping through my mouth as I stroke his cock. I can practically taste his love, his possessiveness, and his dominance; but when he moves the hand that rests against my chest, wrapping it around the back of my neck as he cradles my head, deepening the kiss, I can also taste his understanding and his apology. Then he slips a finger inside of me and I pull away abruptly. His eyes search mine as I take a step back, and I know he’s wondering what I’m up to. The moment I walked into the studio, I knew that tonight was going to be for me.
Tonight, instead of letting him take me, I’m taking him.
Tonight, I’m taking what’s mine.
“It’s my turn to fuck you. It’s my turn to stake my claim. I’m going to take you right here. Right now. You’re going to take off your clothes, I’m going to take off mine, and then I’m going to ride my cock while you watch.” A low growl rumbles from his chest. The sound echoes in the empty room, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps and my pussy to ache with need. “I’m going to make you come inside of me,” I whisper, sliding my hand down my pants and into my thong.
I run my finger over my entrance, soaking the tip before I brush it against my clit. I moan and my man grunts, reaching for his shirt. He rips it off and discards it on the floor. I pull my hand from between my legs and close the distance between us, dipping my middle finger into his mouth so that he can taste my desire for him—only for him.
“I belong to you. Every morning this week, you’ve reminded me that I belong to you. Now I’m going to remind you that you belong to me, too.”
He sucks my finger, hard, griping my hips and pulling me flush against his body—his erection pressing against my stomach. I slowly slide my finger from between his lips before taking a step back.
“Strip,” I order.
As he does what I command, I take the yoga mat from over my shoulder and spread it out on the floor, parallel to the wall to wall mirrors that cover the front of the room. When I look up at him from my crouched position, his body completely naked, my big dick sticking straight out, my stomach flutters with wanton anticipation and my arousal pools between my legs.
“Sit,” I tell him as I stand.
He walks over to me and, instead of sitting, he takes my face in his hands and crushes his lips against mine in a fierce kiss. It lasts only but a moment before he pulls away, licking my bottom lip. “You’re so sexy right now, babe, and I’m so turned on,” he tells me, his voice deep and velvety, filled with lust. “If you don’t hurry up, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
I smirk at him before pressing my hands against his chest. “Sit your ass down, baby. I’m about to get naked.”
As soon as his butt hits the middle of my mat, I start peeling off my clothes—my tank, then my pants; my thong, then my bra. I sink to my knees and crawl in between his before I take him into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the sensitive flesh of his head and he grunts, leaning back to rest on his hands. When I peek up at him, I see him staring at me through hooded eyes.
I smile, because I love seeing him like this—drunk on my affection. Then I gently graze my teeth along his length, knowing just how much that drives him crazy.
“Shit, Logan!” he grunts, bucking his hips.
I giggle as I stand, turning my back to him. I place a foot on either side of his legs before I slowly sink to my knees. I glance at his reflection as I make my descent, pleased to see him staring at my backside until I’m hovering over his lap.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?” he hums, sitting up to free his hands so that he can grab my ass.
I grind my pussy over his hard length and we both moan. “Stick my cock into your pussy, baby.”
He doesn’t hesitate before he grabs himself and lines his dick up with my entrance. I push back, easing my way over him until I’m completely full. His hands slide up my sides before he reaches around and cups my breasts. I arch my back and sigh, allowing him a single moment of control before I take it back.
“Lean back, baby—look at us.” Our eyes meet in the mirror, our gazes locked as his hands pull away from me. He props himself up on his elbows and I wink at him. “Watch me ride you. Don’t look away.”
“Babe, I won’t even blink.”
Balancing on my hands and knees, I pull away from him until he’s almost all the way out before I push myself over him once more. I start slow, admiring our reflection—in love with the way we look as he stretches me open. He fits. “Mmmm, Roman, you fit. Only you fit inside of me. Only you make me feel this way.” I start to speed up, the warmth that builds between us increasing my need for more friction.
“You’re so beautiful, babe. Look at you—my gorgeous girl,” he murmurs. When he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, I know he’s holding back—practicing restraint as he keeps his hips from thrusting up into me. He’s giving me this moment, surrendering to my need to be in control, and it makes me love him more. Right here, right now, I forgive him for the way he’s made me feel this week. The truth is, I love every bit of him—need every part of him—even his stubborn jealous side. He’s my Roman, and I wouldn't want him any other way.
I moan, rocking back and forth with a growing sense of urgency. I need to come. I need him to come. I want to get us there together.
“Oh, Rome, fuck, you feel so good.” I slide the hand closest to the mirror up my stomach, grabbing hold of my boob and squeezing my nipple.
“Hell, yeah, babe.” He groans, leaning on one elbow as he runs a hand up my thigh and grips my hip. “So hot. So sexy when you touch yourself.”
“Yeah? You like that, baby?” I murmur, dragging my hand down my torso and in-between my legs. When my fingers make contact with my clit, I push back against him harder, gasping for air as I inch my way closer and closer to my release.
“Fuck, babe,” he grinds out. His grip around my hip tightens. It almost hurts, and I know I’ll have a bruise there tomorrow, but I don’t care. I don’t care at all. He’s close and I can feel it.
“Baby—baby, I’m gonna come. Oh—Roman—Roman!” I try holding on, my eyes locked with his in the mirror, but I can’t. As my orgasm rips through my body, I throw my head back, whimpering with every backwards thrust. Then I feel Roman’s grip around both of my hips and he roars as he spills his release inside of me. He slowly guides me forward and back when I no longer have the energy, and then stops as he presses a kiss onto the middle of my back.
“I fucking love you so much,” he whispers, his breath hot against my
skin. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ve been a jerk and I—I’m sorry.”
I draw in a few deep breaths before I ease my way off of him and turn to kneel between his legs. I run my fingers through his hair, cupping my hands around the nape of his neck as I rest my forehead against his. “I fucking love you so much, too.” I finally say in reply.
“Logan…I just wish—I just wish you didn’t have to put up with him. I just wish you didn’t have to be on guard around him. I just—I wish I could, I don’t know.”
I smile, brushing my lips against his when his words suddenly take on new meaning. “You can’t fight all my battles for me, baby. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t my white knight.”
He sighs resolutely, offering me a nod.
“It’s been a long day. A long week. I’m hungry—why don’t we pick up some Thai takeout and some wine and spend the rest of the night in bed?”
He kisses me before he pulls away, a grin lighting up his incredible, pretty brown eyes. “That sounds perfect.”
SHE LAUGHS, PICKING UP her glass of water, and I fight a grimace.
I fucking love the sound of that laugh.
The client speaks, but I don’t listen to what he is saying. He’s not talking to me anyway. His attention is completely wrapped up in the frustratingly perfect creature who sits between us. The details of our contract were discussed before lunch was served, and we consumed our meal going over the vision of the project that he has hired us to begin next week. It’s a big account, one that will require countless hours of work, and I should be grateful that Logan and Mr. Helix are getting along so well.
Should being the operative word.
Christ, must she be so damn charming?
It’s been almost six weeks since I started my tenure in the Fort Collins office. The transition has been smooth, as I expected; the work has been invigorating, as I always love a new challenge; and I’ve been welcomed with all the respect that I’ve earned. However, working with Logan is worse than I ever imagined.
