ROMAN (Lane Brothers Book 5)

by Kristina Weaver

  I see his eyes narrow when I lift my hips slightly and unzip my skirt, looking up at him as I spread the fabric and allow him a brief glimpse of the matching thong.

  It’s so naughty taunting him this way, and even more dangerous when I consider where we are, but I know the risk is worth it when his lips thin and he pushes upright, watching me predatorily.

  “You want to be fucked?” he asks.

  I nod and prove the point by pushing the skirt down and kicking it away. With my shirt open and hanging off my shoulders, I open my legs and stroke my right hand over my thighs, moaning at the sensation.

  “You missed me too, didn’t you?” he growls, and I know it bugs him that I haven’t said it yet.

  I remain silent and watch him frown slightly.

  “You won’t tell me?”

  I shake my head and run my hands up to cup my bra-covered breasts, trying to recapture the mood. Gregory takes an audible breath, his eyes focusing where my fingers glance over my nipples, and I know I have him back where I want him.

  “God you’re beautiful,” he growls, pausing just feet away, so close and yet far enough that I’m left disappointed.

  “And you’re still dressed and too far away,” I retort, sliding my hand between my breasts and down my belly, pausing at the low-riding waistband of the thong.

  I’m hot and ready and so achy I have to press my thighs together for a small relief.

  “Ah, but you haven’t given me what I want,” he drawls, prowling over and dropping to his knees to insinuate himself between my legs. “Should I tease you, Hannah, darlin’?”

  I moan when he leans in and blows a breath over a nipple.

  “Tell me what I want to hear, darlin’.”

  Another moan escapes when he licks a path from my parted lips down through the valley between my breasts, stopping to dip his tongue into my navel and then pull it down to the edge of the thong.

  I feel his breath there, almost but not quite where I need him, and I push up, groaning when his hands clamp around my hips and hold me in place.

  “Nuh-uh, Hannah, I told you what I want, darlin’. I’ll give you what you want as soon as you surrender.”

  “Please.”

  “I like the sound of that, babe, but it’s not quite what I’m going for.”

  Without warning he dips his head and settles his mouth over me, rubbing at my clit through the lace in a slow swirl of his tongue. I reach my right hand out and spear my fingers though his hair as I bite into my lips.

  “Greg, please.”

  He looks up and holds my eyes, rubbing me just to the point of need and then stopping, his eyes demanding when I still refuse him.

  “You’d better tell me, Han. Tell me, or I’m going to put these clothes back on you and send you back to work,” he warns, closing his teeth gently around my clit. “Tell me, and I’ll make you come.”

  My resistance crumbles, toppling like a stack of cards when he intensifies the pressure and breathes heavily along my folds. I’m so close now, so strung with need I’ll give him whatever he wants if only he’ll take me to that place where nothing exists but him and me and the pleasure we give each other.

  “I…oh, harder…I missed you,” I moan, almost yelling my satisfaction when he grabs my hips and yanks me to the edge of the sofa, burying his face deeper and licking with the force I need.

  “Good girl,” he growls, rubbing and nipping at me until I’m wet and so close to orgasm I’m begging for him to get me there.

  “You’re so beautiful, darlin’, so perfect,” he snarls, lifting his mouth away from me to hook his fingers into the thin band and jerk, ripping my underwear in half.

  His eyes are wild, and yet he’s gentle and teasing when he lowers his head again and licks me from my opening to the edge of my crease, his eyes closing in ecstasy.

  “Jerking off while trying to remember your taste is not satisfying,” he mumbles against my folds, the tickling sensation of his words pushing me closer to the edge.

  “Greg, let me come. Please.”

  My hand is in his hair, pulling as I grind closer. He grunts, and I realize I’ve bonked his head with my cast.

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re really impatient for a woman who wouldn’t tell me she missed me,” he teases, sitting back to stare mockingly at me.

  “I told you I did.”

  I need him now, with a desperation that’s eating at my insides, and he wants to tease. God, he’s so frustrating.

  “I think it’s your turn to show me, darlin’. Come on and show me how much you missed me,” he whispers, and I look down to see a strange look in his eyes.

  Need, and something indefinable.

  Uncertainty crashes through me, but I squash it down and sit up, wanting to give him what he needs, wanting to be what he needs. Always.

  “Take off your pants, Greg,” I purr, falling to my knees in front of him and unhooking my bra as he complies.

  When he’s naked, his muscles rippling with every breath, I lean forward and take him in hand, stroking slowly as I reach up and fuse our lips in a kiss that is all tongue and burning desire.

  He’s panting into my mouth and thrusting his hips into my hands, growling softly when I collect the moisture from his tip and use it to stroke him to the edge of ecstasy.

  I’ve gone past need and into a realm of desperation that makes my movements jerky and harder than I would have used on his cock.

  He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and soon his hand is covering mine, squeezing to tighten my grip as he thrusts faster.

  “God, Greg,” I moan, loving the unrestrained look of lust on his face and the growling moans that whisper over my lips. “I need you. Please.”

  “Then take me, darlin’,” he whispers, unfurling my hand and hoisting me up to straddle his hips.

  He pauses and reaches back, coming back with a condom that takes seconds to unwrap and roll on.

  “Take what you need, Hannah. Give me what I want,” he orders.

  I comply with a moan, reaching down to center him as I balance on my knees and lower myself, holding my breath as my sex opens, swallowing him down till every inch fills me.

  We freeze, panting, sharing breaths as we savor the moment before he grips my hips and lifts, pulling back before lowering me slowly.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this.”

  Me too. I’ve lain awake at night thinking about his touch, his kiss, and wanting him so badly I’ve barely slept since he left. He wants this, needs my capitulation and confessions of need.

  I am too breathless to answer at this point, so I use my body instead, clenching around him as I lift up and down, riding him in a desperate rhythm that has me screaming my pleasure scant minutes later.

  My pleasure triggers his own, and he tenses, coming with a groan muffled against my neck.

  “I missed you too, so much.”

  And that scares me because Gregory Lucas has now become more than my lover. He’s a necessity that I can never hope to keep.

  Chapter Twenty

  “This is ridiculous. Just come, Hannah.”

  “No. You said you wouldn’t force me to do this again. You may not feel guilty about a damned thing, but I have a conscience, and I’m not eating dinner with your family and fiancée! And most especially not with Nana in tow.”

  Is he being deliberately obtuse? My nana thinks we’re dating, like boyfriend and girlfriend dating, and now he wants me to go to some dinner with him and reveal my completely immoral lifestyle choices? Not in this goddamned century.

  As far as I’m concerned, what Nana doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Or me.

  “Of course she won’t come with. Josey will remain here with her until we get back.”

  “You want me to leave my nana alone on my birthday?” I ask incredulously, shooting him a look of total indignation.

  Today is my twenty-ninth year of life on this not so great planet, and I’ve been walking on clouds since I woke up. Nana made me a trul
y scary-looking omelette and served me breakfast in bed before presenting me with a pair of shoes that look eerily similar to a pair I already own.

  It’s been wonderful and happy, and I breezed into work with a smile on my face and enough cheer to light up New York. Until now.

  “It’s a business dinner. I want you there in case I have to leave early,” he says stonily, giving me his usual look of command.

  “Greg, be reasonable.”

  Why is it always like this? One minute I am convinced he’s a good guy, and the next he’s showing me how truly awful he can be. I’ve given in recently and admitted to myself that I feel a lot more for him than plain, old-fashioned lust or like.

  Obviously I’ve been sleep-smoking crack cocaine, because I seem to have done the dumbest thing I could and fallen for him. Like, love and babies — yikes — kind of fallen.

  It’s been hard and is getting harder to hide the soft feelings I have, feelings I know he does not share. If anyone ever tells you that love is all you need, kick them in the balls and get running, because it’s bullshit.

  I love a man who not only is getting married to the world’s sweetest socialite, but is so heartless he’s willing to make me go wedding shopping with her.

  And then today he’s decided to add insult to injury and wants to introduce me to his family. Now I know why I’d been so against getting together with him in the first place. I am and will always be nothing more than his mistress, a piece of ass he’s currently interested in but will eventually tire of.

  If miracles happen and he does want me for, say, a year or more, something he’s been hinting at, I will be worse off than I am now. At least now he’s still not married. Very soon though he’ll have a wife, a good woman who deserves more than this, and I will be that woman, the one nobody likes, the one who’s left a broken wreck, waiting for a man she can never own.

  But see, as much as I know this is true, giving him up is not possible. Not as long as I have this useless hope clawing at me. It’s idiotic, but I keep imagining that soon he’ll realize he loves me and he’ll break off his engagement to be with me.

  This is how far I have fallen from the self-respecting woman I was. I am now wishing misery on another woman so that I can have what I want.

  “Hannah?” he barks impatiently, and I focus on him, shaking my miserable doubts back to the back of my mind, where they’ve been for days.

  “No. You can go to that dinner with your fiancée like a decent man,” I snarl, throwing his messages at him. “I may be a goddamned whore, but I’m not a total glutton.”

  I storm out and grab my bag, hightailing it out of the office before Mr Bossy Boots can get hold of me again.

  I need a break, and as far as I’m concerned he can get through lunch without his sycophant mistress hanging on his every word.

  “Oh, hey! You finally coming out of that cave? Good, let’s go grab lunch and talk. I can’t wait to hear what the life of a corporate PA is like. Oh, and happy birthday!”

  Lucy, just what I need right now, I think angrily, forcing a smile to my pinched lips.

  “Hey, Luce, sorry, I can’t make lunch today. I’m going to see Amber.”

  It’s a split second decision, and the moment I make it I know it’s something I need to do. Besides getting my money back, I want to know just what’s going on with the bakery and Gregory’s stake in it. A little late, but at least I’m getting there.

  When I reach her shop, I am shocked at the changes. It’s no longer a dark little hole in the wall, but a bright, swanky place that seems to be doing well, from the number of people I have to squeeze through to get to Amber.

  “Amber!” I yell, getting her attention.

  She looks up and grimaces, waving me to the back as she rings up an order. I enter her office and flop into a seat.

  “So, you here for your money?” she asks, slamming the door forcefully.

  “Yup. I have things to pay, Am. I told you that when you took the loan.”

  Her lip curls and she sneers at me, shocking me with a fury I’ve never seen from her. Amber is spoiled and rude at the best of times, but she’s usually easier to be around than this.

  “You’re such a liar. Your rich boyfriend can take care of anything you need, and you’re trying to suck me dry?”

  What?

  “Am—”

  “No! You’re my sister, the one person I should be able to count on, and instead of helping me you sic your bulldog on me and let him steal my business from me!”

  My own anger explodes and I leap up to confront her, feeling so hurt and mad I can hardly see straight.

  “You mean I’m your bank! The only time I see you is when you need money, and even then you only hang around long enough to insult me and take my money. I ask you one time to help me out with Nana, and you can’t even do that!” I yell, enjoying her shock when I get so up in her face she’s forced to stumble back.

  “I told you what she did.”

  “Excuses. You’re a spoiled goddamned brat who can’t even have enough self-respect not to steal from her own business! Yeah, I know how you’ve been skimming off the top. No wonder you’re always looking for cash to pay your staff,” I sneer, grabbing my bag and heading for the door.

  “Han—”

  “I am so done with you. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself, and I refuse to be treated like a convenience a moment longer. Keep the money, shove it where the sun don’t shine, but never ever again knock on my door when you need something, because this ATM is closed. Oh, and thanks for saying happy birthday!”

  By the time I’ve walked a block back to work I’ve cooled down enough to realize what I’ve done. Sure, Amber deserved some of what I said, but I know that I have taken my heartbroken frustration out on her instead of where it belongs.

  Gregory Lucas.

  As I walk it dawns on me that I can no longer do this. I’ve painted myself into a corner where he’s concerned, and there’s no way to get out without fucking up the paint job and getting myself plenty messy.

  What I have been avoiding for weeks since our doomed sex night is now staring me in the face, and there’s nothing to do but get messy and then clean myself up afterward.

  By the time I reach the office I am determined and resolute. This thing is over, done, and before this day is out I will be free of this constant ache I’ve been carrying around.

  He’s not in his office when I peep inside, so I sit down and type out my resignation, effective immediately, and drop it onto his desk before grabbing my bag and walking out.

  I know how cowardly this is, believe me, and I cringe to know what his reaction will be, but as I sit on the train home with nothing but a single dried up rose to show for my recent adventures, I know it’s the only option I have.

  He’d never let me go any other way, and I need this. For myself and my life and whatever future I can have, I need to let go and move on before there’s nothing left but a shell.

  He’ll hate me though, of this I am confident, because my threats in that letter are clear and leave him no room to move. I will tell Selena Jeffries and anyone I need to what we’ve been doing if he doesn’t let me go peacefully.

  As far as I’m concerned, this is a good thing. I just wish my aching chest would get with the program.

  Chapter Twenty One

  “You can’t do this.”

  Of course I can. I can do just about anything I want to right now, considering how crappy I’ve felt the last month.

  “Chris, you know I love you, and that being my best friend gives you a lot more liberty into my life than anyone else, but give it a goddamned rest already.”

  I’m scanning the classifieds and plotting the best detergent to scrub the toilet with as she hovers at my elbow, her red hair swirling when she twists in a circle before throwing her hands up with a growl.

  “You can’t keep hiding out in here when you’re not going to that crappy job or getting Nana to her doctor’s appointment. Geez
, Han, the last time I saw you go this mental…wait, scratch that, I’ve always known you were a little weird, but this…”

  I know what she’s looking at, and I refrain from replying, not wanting the monumental argument that always ensues. She’s pissed at me for becoming a hermit in the month since I’d broken off the affair and left my job.

  Okay, so I have to admit that despite being functional enough to find a receptionist job in a dentist’s office and looking after Nana, I’ve become slightly worse about my OCD control issues than I had previously been.

  I know it’s weird and wrong and unhealthy, but at the moment, with my heart still feeling like bloody ground beef, all I want is to establish a bit of the control I’d lost with Greg.

  To that end, I’ve deep cleaned the apartment — seven times — and rearranged the sofa — only four times — and, okay, maybe I’d gone Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the bathroom. In my defense, it wasn’t as white as I’d wanted it, and the bleach was doing me a disservice.

  “Chris, I’ve been single for like two point five seconds here. Just give me a little breathing room, and when I feel up to it, I swear, I will start going out a little more,” I beg.

  It’s hard getting over a man when he drives past your apartment every night and has some beefy, wrestler-looking type follow you everywhere.

  It’s especially hard when he calls at bedtime to say goodnight and asks me to come back to work with every call.

  I don’t answer the phone — home or cell — at night anymore because I’m still on that shaky ground where I know that if he coaxes just a little harder, I’ll give in and go running back for whatever scraps he’ll give me. Pathetic, but true.

  Now I let the machine get it and jump in the shower so I don’t hear the messages he leaves. Nana, however, plays them back for me at the oddest times and glowers at me.

  She, of course, doesn’t know why I left ‘dearest Gregory’ to begin with, so I forgive her the traitorous attitude and just try not to bleed too much when I hear his husky voice telling me I still have options.

  A knock at the door brings me out of my thoughts, and I realize Chris has been standing there the whole time, waiting…a sly and altogether frightening smile curving her lips.