Hart Attack

by Cristin Harber

  “We’re good?” he asked.

  “No, no, no. Don’t slow down.”

  “Beth?”

  Shut up. Please just shut up. He could make this physical, make this happen for her. All she had to do was survive her own guilt. “Take me to bed. Right now. Please.” She tried to kiss him, but he pulled his head back.

  “Roman?”

  “Are. We. Good.”

  “I don’t even know what means!”

  His eyes narrowed. “Fuck, sweetheart. This works for me. But you’ve said no. A lot.” The deep rumble from his chest made her shiver. “Look at me, Beth.”

  Shit, nothing, nothing he’d said was please ruin this moment, please open up to me. But that was what she heard. She cringed. “I have to tell you a secret.”

  His jaw flexed. “Am I going to get pissed?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Is it going to make me want to you any less?”

  Her throat tightened. Probably. If she said that sad, pathetic truth out loud, he’d set her down, pat her head, and run like hell. “Maybe.” Without her permission, her eyelids burned as her eyes went watery.

  “Unless you want to stop, keep your secret your secret, party girl.” Two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle surrounded her as Roman bent close and whispered against her skin. His lips tickled her neck, her ear, making her heart stutter. “Tell me later, and I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

  She melted when his tongue traced down her neck. Full lips slowly caressed its slope. Strong arms held her, and she tilted her head, existing in the undeniable tension and letting it flood her senses.

  Guilt warred with excitement, and then she lost control of reason. “The only thing I want to say is I need you so badly I can’t breathe.”

  And to hell with the emotional fallout.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Pinned to the wall, Beth was light in his arms. He liked her in his home, feet from his bedroom. This wasn’t a place he brought women. It was his sanctuary. Everything here meant something to him, and Beth, whether he admitted it or not, was included in that. And Beth proclaiming she couldn’t breathe because of him. Now that meant something.

  “Stop fighting me for a second, and you’ll feel what I feel.”

  She nodded.

  Every layer he peeled back, he wanted more. Somewhere, there was an invisible wound. That was his thing. He was a fixer. A protector. And whatever her secret was, he wanted to be in the know. But not right now. Thank Christ, she’d wised up and kept quiet.

  “Then let’s go, party girl.” He held her to him, arms and legs still locked tight, and made his way to his bedroom.

  A massive bed had housed his recovery. A thick wooden frame and heavenly sheets surrounded him. Each time he’d woken, his mind would slide to her. How sweet she’d taste, how good it’d feel to sink deep into her pussy, pounding until they were sated beyond what he knew possible. His pulse thumped in his neck. Big expectations to live up to. Because…

  She meant something.

  He worked his jaw back and forth and thought about blaming the pain pills for accepting crap that should’ve pissed him off—playing coy, hinting with whispers of secrets—but didn’t. Fucking painkillers. Except he hadn’t taken them all day, trying to clear the fuzz from his head.

  He placed her on the bed. The more he ran his hands into her hair, the wilder her curls got. “Good look on you.”

  She rolled her eyes, trying to stop his screwing up her hair. “It’s messy.”

  “We’re messy.”

  She smiled, and her green eyes fired. “You say that like you don’t care.”

  His fingers traced her jaw then the collar of her shirt. “I care, babe.”

  “I like that.”

  “I care about how you sound.” He leaned into her, ignoring the soreness in his arms. “And how I can make it happen again.”

  “Lots of caring…”

  “True.”

  She watched him watch her, and he slid his hands over the full swell of her breasts to the bottom of her shirt. He tugged it over her head, displaying a green satin bra as vibrant as the color in her eyes. “And I care that you’re here, with me, ignoring whatever is scaring you so that we can just be.”

  Her eyes went watery. He’d gone too deep.

  Feeling her in his chest, he desperately fought to keep it superficial. “Careful.” He smiled quietly until his lips found hers, then he dumped them over together and pinned her to the bed. “I’m injured.”

  Beth laughed as he kissed her. “Shut up, Roman.” Her hips flexed, purposefully rolling the V between her legs against his dick.

  “Christ, party girl. You do something bad to me.”

  She put a hand on the side of her pants. For as simple as pants were, they didn’t look like they came off easily. “Hidden zipper. Come on, let’s go.”

  He heard the invisible zipper start to lower. “I swear to God, woman, if you take all the fun out of getting you undressed, I will be pissed.”

  “Have at it.”

  Have at it? “You’re killing me.”

  She had wild hair spread around her head, and her breasts overfilled their silky cups. He took charge of the hard-to-remove pants, found the camouflaged zipper, and slid it down, baring her as he explored the smoothness of her legs. He was lost in the girl before him. Wow, was he lost.

  “Roman…?”

  Hot didn’t describe her. He didn’t know the right word. “What’s better than gorgeous?”

  Her pink lips silently fell open. He dropped her pants off the side of the bed. Matching green panties. Not a thong, which might’ve been the sexiest surprise he’d never expected. Somehow they did something to him that a scrap of lace could never achieve. Her body was tight, strong but soft, and that made perfect sense. Beth’s eyes slowly fell from his face to his chest and stomach then to his erection bulging in his jeans.

  “What?” he asked, unsure of her searching glance.

  “How long have I known you?”

  He shrugged.

  A smile curved her cheeks. “I’ve been missing out, huh?”

  “Yeah you have.” He crawled over her, whispering words against her skin. “Coulda, woulda, shoulda, baby.”

  “Cocky ass.” Her words hitched as his lips skimmed across her.

  Not a kiss. Just a touch. “Yeah.”

  They’d gone from laughing and teasing to whispering, far more intimate than he ever intended. His lips found hers, and he kissed her mouth, testing her tongue with his. With a slow move, he had them on their sides, and his palm ran the length of her back, rounding over the curve of her ass.

  He stayed on his side and let her fall flat on her back. His fingers traced the jut of hip bone, rubbing over her stomach. As slowly as he could stand it, he moved his hand back down the inches of bare skin until he could slide his fingers under the boy shorts and between her legs.

  His heart slammed in his chest. “Christ, Beth.”

  She was aroused and moving under his fingers. Her face flushed as her eyes closed. She couldn’t have been more of a temptation. Until she tilted her head and opened her eyes. Then he was done for. She had no idea what she did to him, because fuck it all, he wasn’t even sure he knew.

  “Roman.” Her quiet voice sounded near pain. “I want…”

  The tip of his finger ran along her bare seam. “I got you.”

  Beth’s eyes melted closed, her swollen breasts heaved, and her legs inched apart as she mewed for his touch. One of her hands cupped her breast, squeezing and making him groan. His cock nearly exploded as her massage intensified. But he’d wait for that tight pussy to hug him.

  “Two hands, sweetheart.”

  Both her hands worked her chest. He slipped off her absurdly sexy panties and spread her legs to him.

  “Eyes open, Beth.”

  She complied but stilled her hands, cupping them over herself.

  Roman pushed her hand away, leaned down, and sucked on one bra-clad nipple. His
fingers teased her open, slipping across her clit and making her arch.

  He bit her nipple through the fabric. “More?”

  Her nod barely registered, but her gasp said definitely.

  “More of this?” He bit again.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  “Or more of this?” He slid two fingers into her.

  “That!”

  “Maybe we’ll just stick with both.”

  “Yes. Both.” Beth writhed as he went back and forth.

  Abandoning her breast, he moved to kiss her lips, still working his hand between her legs. Her eyes locked on him, and they touched something deep in his chest. Something played on her face. Desperate want and absolute terror. He slowed his roll.

  “Beth—”

  “I swear to God…” she gasped. “If you stop, we won’t even be friends.”

  He laughed but focused back on her. “Not trying to be your friend right now.”

  “Keep the jokes to yourself.” She covered her face with her forearms then dropped them to the bed as he homed in on her clit. “Oh God.”

  He worked her, watching her, and wanted her to come more than he’d ever cared about anything in bed before. Eyes squeezed tight, lips pursed, and cheeks richly pinked, she rocked against him, giving him little ohs that worked like a kiss to his cock.

  “Come for me, pretty girl.” The transition from party girl to pretty girl didn’t do her justice.

  Her head went side to side. Wild, thick curls splayed on the pillow. “I don’t… I can’t…”

  God, yes, she could. She would if it killed him. Beth looked one deep kiss from falling apart. Mouth open, little gasp, and—

  “No.” She shifted away, stilling as though she’d seen a ghost. Her pink cheeks paled.

  No?

  There was a word he’d never heard before, but he knew what to do. As if he’d been trained for it, one little two-letter word made him stop and back up. He almost threw up his arms in surrender. But no didn’t keep confusion from knocking him stupid.

  What had just happened? He could barely handle wanting her, and she had to have been a microsecond away from a climax. “Beth?”

  The blush on her cheeks had morphed into more embarrassed or angry than aroused, and he had no idea what to do.

  “Beth? What… the hell?” Was he angry? Was she okay? Yeah, all of the above. What the fuckin’ hell?

  “I just can’t.” She wouldn’t look up.

  “Can’t what?”

  “Just can’t.” She winced, scooting away and curling to cover up. “Nothing. Never mind. Look, I need to—”

  “So help me God…” He shook his head. “If you say anything about leaving this bed, I will make you explain yourself and your secrets and anything else you feel the need to torture me with.”

  Beth pushed up, acting as though she had on way more clothes than she did. “I shouldn’t be in your bed. I just wanted to check on you. Not jump you.” She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth. “I’m sure you have some doctor’s note to rest.” She tried to slide away.

  He caught her arm. “What the hell is going on with you?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head, chin up and cool collectedness in her eyes, then turned.

  None of this made sense. “You can’t possibly hate me that much.”

  She spun to face him, jaw dropped. “Hate you?”

  “I always thought that one day we’d end up in bed. We had a game. But damn you, I liked it.”

  Her mouth shut. “Not a game. Sorry to bust your bubble.”

  “No, Beth. I’m not saying you’re a game. Fuck.” He pulled her back to the middle of the bed. “What I’m saying is that—fuck. I don’t know what I’m saying.” There was a reason no woman ever made it into his home. His bedroom. He jumped off the mattress, throwing her clothes at her and grabbing his.

  Clothes pressed to her stomach, she seemed to shrink in on herself. “Fine.”

  “Who the hell would rather give the finger to someone than get off? That’s what I mean. That makes no sense unless you hate me, and while I might be a son of a bitch, I’ve never been that way to you.”

  “You think I hate you?”

  “If not hate, then what?” Because she was driving him crazy, and now it was like she’d snatched her orgasm away from him. It was his. He owned it, and the primal asshole inside was pissed. “I don’t even know why I care.” More head shaking. “Actually, I don’t care at all.” Except he did. Damn her.

  “Roman—”

  “See ya. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.” He tugged on a shirt, heading anywhere in his house to avoid her and the mess of bed-head curls. But he turned back, unable to leave without one more look. “What was this, some fun way to teach the cocky SOB a lesson?”

  She bit her lip silently.

  “A tease ain’t a good look on you, party girl.” Though looking at her holding herself on his bed, he ached to tell her she was the prettiest thing he’d ever touched. “I might be a cocky fuckin’ prick, but that makes you—” He balled his fists, shoving them in his pockets. His mind raced. This mix of hurt and possessiveness was about to make him completely lose his cool. More than he already had.

  “Stop it,” she whispered.

  “Just go.”

  Her eyes welled up with tears as she pulled on her shirt, and he paced the length of the bedroom wall because, try as hard as he could, he couldn’t walk away.

  “It’s not like that,” she pleaded as she abandoned his bed. “Just stop.”

  “Then what the fuck is it like?” Without thinking, he slammed his palm against the wall. He stopped, staring at his fingers, ready to rip into the drywall then dropped his head, completely mind-fucked. It was like he needed her to come more than he needed to come himself. Or maybe it was how he needed to make her come.

  “I can’t.” Standing in her shirt and panties, she wouldn’t look in his direction, and her tiniest, saddest whisper was a sucker punch.

  “You can do whatever the hell you want.”

  “No, I can’t… come.”

  Incredulous, he felt his anger and frustration quickly begin to cool. “What? Like… an orgasm?”

  She nodded, still not looking at him.

  “What?” He tried to remember everything he’d just said to her but blanked. “Look. Okay.” He couldn’t register what had just happened. It didn’t matter; her admission was a lie because the girl had been about to buck on his fingers. “Maybe no one ever told you, but you pretty much almost nailed it.”

  For a second, their eyes connected, but she stole hers away and stared at the wall.

  Finally, she shook her head. “I know.”

  “But you… you can.” This would’ve been seriously awkward if he wasn’t pissed and confused.

  “I know.” She wouldn’t bring her gaze back up even when he stepped closer.

  “I don’t get it. I don’t get you.” Or himself, at the moment. He moved within arm’s reach, needing to touch her face, her curls, to lay her back down on his bed, spreading her hair on his pillow. “But you just did.”

  “Not quite,” she said.

  “Because… you stopped it.”

  Beth finally looked up. “Guess we all have a little crazy, huh?”

  He sat on his bed, still keeping an eye on her. The tension in the room was enough that he wanted to leave. That would’ve been the easy route, but he didn’t want anything easy. Not with her. For a long while, they stayed in heavy silence. Neither dressed or talked or moved until he came up with a plan.

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  A shy smile painted her face. “A deal, huh?”

  “I’ll make it happen for you, then you won’t have this hang-up anymore.”

  “That simple?” She laughed, rolling her eyes but still looking embarrassed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Cocky.” She toyed with a strand of hair. “To think you can just fuck my problems away.”

  “You wouldn
’t have it any other way.”

  Her green eyes rose, holding his. “And what do you get out of this arrangement, other than the obvious?”

  Good question… “Don’t worry about me. Deal?”

  Her eyelashes fluttered. A possessive protectiveness surged in his veins. He wanted this as badly as he wanted her. This was a problem he could fix.

  Beth bit her lip. “It’s complicated.”

  “So make it simple.”

  “I’m scared.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because then I’ll forget. And because I don’t deserve it.” Her eyes darted. “Like I said. I should go.”

  She snaked her pants up her legs, leaving him speechless on the bed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Beth’s stinkin’ keys had to be in her purse. She’d gotten there, hadn’t she? If she had to go back into Roman’s house and ask to look for her keys, she would die. No super-special-spy star on the wall for her at the Agency. Death by devastating embarrassment didn’t carry any award-winning honor.

  Beth dumped everything in her purse on the trunk of her Lexus but still came up short. This couldn’t be happening. Just couldn’t.

  She looked up and down the large lots in his neighborhood and at the quiet street. Not exactly the kind of place to expect a bus stop, not that she even knew where to go if she boarded one. Calling a taxi would be an okay solution, except she’d eventually have to get her car. Or Nicola could do it. The girl owed Beth a favor or two, and when Beth promised to deliver on the details of this SNAFU, Nicola wouldn’t be able to resist.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Beth saw his front door open. Furiously, she searched harder for her car keys until she could stare no longer into her purse.

  “What are you doing?” Roman stood on his front porch, cotton T-shirt painted on. And wow, was it a mind-numbing display of the guy’s physique. He crossed his thick arms over his broad chest, making his muscles bulge in a way that wasn’t fair.

  She tore her gaze away. “Nothing.”

  “Just hanging?” he teased.