Hart Attack

by Cristin Harber

  Beth kicked off her shoes, and for the next thirty minutes, she slammed around, looking for bugs and running her high-frequency reader, coming up empty handed. What the bloody hell? She threw the pillows on the floor and stripped the bed.

  Arms crossed, she paced the room. Not a single thing had turned up. Nothing! And he wasn’t checking on her. Very un-Roman-like. She clenched her teeth. No way was she wrong on this one.

  Without thinking, she headed out and slammed her door, storming, raging, toward Roman’s room. It didn’t make sense. Her thoughts. Reactions. How she was acting insane. But she couldn’t control the absolute need to scream in his face. To shake his ass stupid.

  She banged on his door twice. “Open up.”

  It cracked open and, what the motherfucking hell, why didn’t he have a shirt on? Did he just wander around half-dressed all the time, ready to be ogled?

  “Beth?”

  “For God’s sake. Where’s your shirt?”

  He laughed, not all that friendly. “Wasn’t expecting company.” His gaze slid over her. “Where are your shoes?”

  She shoved him with both hands planted against his chest, and his warm flesh set her body on fire. Screw him. “Where are they?”

  “Your shoes?” He chuckled.

  “Tell me.” She pushed into the suite’s foyer.

  His head tilted. “Wanna come in and hang out?”

  “No!”

  “Then why are you here? You could always go for a swim.”

  “Ahh!” She hit his chest again, but he didn’t move from the open door. “I know you have people here—”

  His hand clamped over her mouth. His other arm wrapped around her body. He spun her. Pressing her against the wall, his lips touched her ears. Pinned, Beth cursed her betraying body and arched against his hold.

  “Be very careful of what you say.” His tongue wicked across the shell of her ear, until finally, his mouth sucked the lobe. Just for a second. Just long enough that she was instantly, overwhelming wet for him. “You know better than that.”

  Condescending prick. She jabbed her elbow into the wall of muscle then lifted her arms over her head, grabbing his hair and yanking.

  “Stronger than you look, Beth.” He growled against her neck, half-kissing, half-biting.

  God, enough of him. She spun but only because he’d loosened his hold. “You don’t get to do whatever you want to do.”

  He slammed his mouth to hers, probing with his tongue, kissing as she pulled his hair. When he let her mouth go, she was gasping for more.

  “But I can sure as fuck try, pretty girl.”

  She moved to duck out of his arms, but he rushed her back against the wall. His swollen erection pushed from behind his pants, and she cursed their clothing and her out-of-control want.

  “Stop with the nickname.”

  “No way.” He smiled as he bit her lip. He whispered into her mouth, “No fuckin’ way.”

  She struggled against him, mostly as a bad excuse to feel more.

  Roman’s eyes were piercing. “You are too much fun.”

  “I am not fun.” Her legs hiked up his, and she found some of the friction. But seriously, nowhere near enough.

  “Bull.” His hands ducked under her skirt and panties, squeezing her ass cheeks until they stung. “So much.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “To fuck you hard till I’ve got nothing left.”

  His words almost had her spasming, almost coming from a promise. She nodded, whimpering. “Do it.”

  “Bossy, wanting little Beth.” With her skirt hiked around her hips, he held her against the wall with one arm supporting her ass. Legs around him, she was already spread for him, wet for him. He wasted no time, as his fingers found her and did their worst—or best.

  “Roman,” she moaned, biting his shoulder. “More.”

  Their bodies tangled, and under the onslaught of his hand, she desperately clawed between them, fighting for his belt and receiving zero help.

  She closed her eyes, giving up. The pad of his thumb tortured her clit while his fingers speared her to a dizzying edge. God… her climax ripped her apart. He was a miracle worker. Her muscles clenched, spasmed. She squeezed her eyes tighter, gasping.

  When she opened them again, predatory satisfaction glared at her, making her almost come again.

  “Hot. But not why you stormed my door. What do you need, baby?”

  What did she need? Him inside her. Him in her face, in her memories. Just him.

  “Tell me,” he crooned into her ear.

  “Please just fuck me. Do it until you’ve got nothing left.” She tried for his buckle again. “I need it.”

  “You need me. Not it,” he growled. “Say it, baby.”

  “You. I need you.” Everything about him, she needed. “Please.”

  Still holding her with an arm under her ass, he reached for his wallet.

  “No condom,” she whispered. “I need you. Want to feel you. Just you.” She didn’t even know where that came from. She needed to remember the hot sear of him pushing inside her. “I’m fine. Protected. Promise. If you say you’re fine, I trust you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m fine…”

  Slowly, he abandoned his condom-reach. Beth wrapped her hands around his neck and hung onto him while he unbuckled his pants and kicked them away.

  His hands ran down her back, over her ass, taking her weight again. “You sure?” His bare cock rubbed against her smooth mound then pressed against her entrance.

  She gulped, immediately appreciating the difference between latex and no latex. “Please.”

  “Goddamn,” he murmured as he shifted, inching the crown of his thick shaft into her.

  Perfect soreness resounded as he moved, reminding her of how he’d driven into her yesterday. Slowly thrusting, Roman went deep. Accommodating to his size was her favorite thing. And then he roughly withdrew before rocking into her again. He was stronger, surer. Then that became her favorite thing.

  She arched against the wall. Sweat dampened between them. She couldn’t breathe, moaning and gasping. “Roman, baby. Please.”

  “Please. What?” He punctuated each word with quick, deep moves, biting her neck and shoulder.

  “Do your worst.”

  “Goddamn.” He groaned as his body slapped against hers, forcing her to start climbing again.

  “Yes—”

  His mouth found hers, and he kissed her as she ran toward the edge. “Pretty. Fuckin’. Girl.”

  Her clit throbbed, pussy clenched. Again, Roman did this to her. Only Roman. Lightning and firecrackers—they exploded deep inside her, shooting to every limb. Her blood sizzled as he pounded her, moaning her name as he came, deep to the root of him inside her. He strained. Hot spurts of his climax reignited hers.

  Their mouths tangled, biting and kissing. He was harsh and rugged, but she knew he turned soft when only she was looking.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered on her lips.

  She slipped her legs down, and he pulled his pants up. Their foreheads touched, then he carried her from the hallway, through the living area, and into his bedroom, placing her in the middle of the bed as if she were to be handled with care.

  He didn’t say anything, just undressed her completely, pulled the sheets back, and gathered her in his arms. “How much time do we have?”

  “Couple hours.”

  He kissed her temple. “I do want a part of you.”

  What? Why hadn’t he said that earlier? Because she was a crazy bitch. That was why. Her heart melted, but then uncertainty flooded her. His words were something she didn’t know how to believe. She turned away. “You’d like to be my friend.”

  “True. But that’s just an expression, ya know.” His lips stayed against her skin. “I’m trying to figure out how there can be more.”

  “More?”

  “Maybe?”

  Her stomach dropped, and her mind went giddy. Then she considered pulling out of
his arms, administering a self-imposed penance for falling for him—because she had, in a major way. She should embrace the guilt, knowing that it wasn’t fair to her past. But… the guilt wasn’t there. She wasn’t wincing at his words or hating herself for the change he’d built within her. And… she was okay.

  “More…” he repeated.

  “Yeah?” She couldn’t hide her grin.

  He kissed her throat. “I like you underneath me.”

  “You also like me against a wall.”

  Roman pulled back, a seriousness darkened his eyes. “I like marking you as mine.”

  “Yours?”

  “Got a problem with that?”

  “I don’t know what’s happening between us. You think there might be more. I… don’t know what’s happening.”

  “Fuck me, neither do I. But make no mistake, woman. I’ve got you as mine. Whether it’s now or later.”

  “Now or later?” Her jaw fell open. “Doesn’t work that way.”

  “It does, party girl, if you’re falling for the woman that one day you’re gonna love.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Lying in an Abu Dhabi bed with a naked Beth must’ve made him stupid. The crap that had come out of his mouth? A halfway confession to falling in love? What the actual fuck?

  He didn’t need to say it to get laid. Didn’t need to say it to stop a fight.

  And… what he’d said was almost true.

  Not like it was something he could plan for in the future, but falling for the girl was something that was happening now without his permission.

  He would’ve cringed, except he didn’t want to. If he’d thought it out, he would’ve waited until he was in love with the girl. But for whatever reason, realizing that love would happen had happened just then, no matter what plans to close his heart he’d made. Beth was flesh and blood, heart and soul. Practical rules didn’t apply.

  “I don’t know what to say to that,” she whispered.

  “I don’t either, babe. Just is what it is.” He left the bed, shed his pants, and climbed under the covers with her. “Next few hours, just you and me in here. No job. No drama. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  He wrapped her hair around his fingers then committed to spending the time pressed together, as close as he could make them. He kissed her, owning every sigh, every moan as he spread her legs and took her again. And when he’d exhausted himself, wondering how they’d ever make it out of bed and to the auction where they both had to work, he closed his eyes and appreciated how much he enjoyed working with her. Even if he hated the circumstances.

  Beth lay across his chest, fingers locked with his, as the hands on an ornate clock turned. It chimed.

  Never before had he ignored a job. “Up and at ’em, baby.”

  She groaned. “Maybe he wouldn’t notice if I didn’t show up.”

  Roman shifted them up. “Right. Dude has a hard-on for you and needs you tell him how to spend his piles of money.”

  She tugged the sheet around her. “Why do you think the Agency has me on this?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “I think there’s something more to it.”

  “You think?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “Gut instinct is usually right.”

  “So what am I missing?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe you’re not missing anything. Maybe it’s who he meets, what he says. See where he goes afterward, who he talks to privately.”

  She fidgeted. “Don’t get mad.”

  That was never a good opener. “Alright. Not mad.”

  “Technically, I have a date later.”

  “Definitely not mad. But…” Roman’s eyebrows rose as his irritation started on a slow burn. He’d heard the whole conversation go down earlier, but that didn’t mean he was ready to hear about it now. “Don’t like it.”

  She groaned. “You know I have to spend time with him.”

  “You’re leading him on?”

  “Maybe. But obviously nothing more. And…”

  His gut twisted. “Yeah?”

  “He specifically said I didn’t need my security detail.”

  Already knew that… “To which you replied that you did.”

  She shook her head, bedhead curls tossing over her shoulders. “I didn’t say that.”

  The muscles in his shoulders bunched again, even though he already knew and had been pissed off before she’d shown up. “Seriously, Beth?”

  “What was I supposed to do? I can be alone with the guy. He’s not dangerous. If anything, he’s borderline too polite, and honestly, I know the CIA says he’s a thousand kinds of a bad guy, but I don’t see it.”

  Tension turned into anger. “He’s a bad guy, Beth. Act like he is. Got me?”

  “Roman.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Not mad. Just don’t fall for his pansy-ass charm.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not letting my guard down. I’m just saying—”

  “You are. I hear it in your voice.”

  “No, Roman. I’m not. Whatever you’re hearing, it’s filtered through your overprotective, always-looking-for-a-bad-seed point of view.”

  He bit back his words, not wanting to upset her before the auction. Whether he agreed with that or not—which he didn’t—she wouldn’t be on her game if she were distracted. And she certainly didn’t need to be aggravated at him when she left for a little one-on-one time with Naydenov. “Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

  Beth smiled, but it was fake. “Thank you.”

  He threaded a hand into her thick hair and pulled her to him. “Go get dressed. Everything will go smoothly.”

  Then he kissed her as if he believed his own words, which he didn’t. Time apart, specifically without security, was his definition of going off plan. Mission-critical decisions had been made without his input. A fuckin’ date? Not cool.

  At least he had eyes all over this hotel and a few friends on Titan’s payroll that could keep eyes on her off site. If the guy made a bold move, Roman would have him hanging by the balls before the douchebag could say Abu Dhabi.

  ***

  Beth savored Roman’s scent on her as she cleaned up and redressed. She wandered around his hotel room, looking for her shoes, before remembering that she’d not worn any when she banged on his door. Classy. But that actually meant something. One layer of her picture-perfect shield had been peeled off.

  Beth glanced over her shoulder. “Do I look okay?” She spun for him after pulling her unyielding curls into a makeshift knot.

  “Perfect.” His voice rumbled, and she hated leaving.

  “Except the shoes.” A quick toe curl into the carpet, and she had no options but to go barefoot.

  He tilted his head. “Guess you should’ve thought about that before you barnstormed the room.”

  “It’s a serious problem.”

  Roman laughed, lounging in bed with the sheet barely covering him. “Alright. Explain.”

  “Greg is the kind of guy you don’t take your shoes off around.” She looked at her toes, painted but still very bare.

  “What does that mean?”

  “He’s just… proper.”

  “Dude’s an asswipe.”

  She leaned over him as he stretched out on the mattress. “Kiss for good luck.”

  “How about a kiss to remind me not to kill the fucker?”

  “Don’t go after him, or I will be furious.”

  His lips twitched, and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into the covers. “A kiss ’cause I want your mouth on mine.”

  God, she loved the taste of him. “Pushy.”

  She untangled herself from him, and he swatted her bottom. “Get it, Tourne.”

  “Always do, Hart.”

  As she headed out, she could again feel his stare, and it made her blush. She was ready for tonight.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  With another quick look, Beth waved good
bye and braved a run to her room. She opened the door, managing not to get caught, and ambled into her hotel room. The phone—phones, because her suite was big enough for several—were ringing. She grabbed the closest one. “Hello?”

  “Beth.” It was Greg.

  “Yes, hi.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She swallowed hard, noting the high pitch in his voice. “Yes. Why?”

  “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

  Shit. “I’m sorry.” She grabbed her cell phone and saw the missed calls. “I took a bath.” She scrolled through all the timestamps. “A very long bath. My neck hurt after the flight.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  She kept from blowing out a sigh of relief. “Did you need something?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “So… you called because?”

  “You didn’t answer. I was worried.”

  Shit, again. “I’m really sorry, Greg.”

  “No worries.” He paused. “You’ll be ready in thirty minutes?”

  She had no choice. “Yes.”

  “Great. I’ll knock on your door.”

  Beth glanced around her torn-up room. Sheets and pillows were everywhere; the furniture had been moved. A chair sat underneath a ceiling-level air vent. He couldn’t see this, and she didn’t have enough time to clean it up. “No, could I…?” She made her voice coy. “Maybe, could I stop by your room?”

  “Of course.” He took what she offered exactly the way she wanted him to.

  “See you.” She hung up and pulled out her clothes. There was no time for a shower. Closing her eyes, she stopped to appreciate her day. Roman was all over her skin, still inside her, even after she’d spent some time in his bathroom. She couldn’t bear to wash him away. At least for the moment.

  After a cool ten minutes of forcing her hair and makeup to look presentable, she used the remaining time unpacking, ironing, and dressing as quickly as she could.

  She buzzed Roman’s room. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  “I’m headed to Greg’s room. Give me a thirty-second lead before you knock on the door.”

  “That wasn’t the plan.” He grumbled and hung up.

  Beth hurried out her door, knowing Roman wouldn’t give her thirty seconds. She walked to Greg’s suite and knocked.