Worth It

by S. M. Shade

And hawt.

  And wet…

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him as he continues to study me, a smirk now on his lips.

  He turns around, giving me a nice view of his ass. Now I know why Emitt’s ass does nothing for me anymore. It’s not Roman’s ass. Damn, that’s a nice ass.

  “It’s a long drive, and my air stopped working about an hour ago.”

  I snap my eyes up, trying to understand his answer. He acts like this was something we planned, and his tone implies it’s perfectly natural for him to be all naked and soapy in my home. Not that I’m complaining, but…

  “Why?” I ask, still reeling.

  “Probably ran out of Freon,” he says.

  I’m so confu—Never mind. I sound like a broken record.

  “I mean why are you here?”

  He shuts the water off, and my mouth dries as he turns back around. I think he’s always hard. The shock of actually seeing him in my home distracted me from that part of his body earlier. But now my eyes are honed in.

  Holy big naked erection.

  He steps out of the shower, his big feet looking so out of place on my “Rocker Chicks Do It Better” pink bathmat. My eyes slither back up, but don’t make it past his waist. I’m just human, after all.

  “You just gonna stare, or could you hand me a towel?”

  Absently, I reach out for the shelf, feel the towel at my fingertips, then grab a wash-cloth from beside it and hand it to him instead.

  His lips twitch.

  I’d like to see him try to use that tiny thing to cover up Thor’s hammer.

  He slowly walks toward me, and my eyes settle on his, watching the predatory gleam in his gaze. Please, for fuck’s sake, let me be the prey.

  He reaches me, and my breaths go shaky as I crane my neck back to keep eye contact. His smirk is in place, along with those devastatingly serious eyes. I got used to him being more carefree and full of laughter, like the sheltered man he is. He’s back to the original Roman right now.

  But intense is still hot on him. Very hot.

  When his arm comes up, I shiver, anticipating his touch, but he reaches around me, not accepting my wash-cloth, and grabs a towel from the shelf instead. His eyes never leave mine, so I take it all in with my peripheral as the wash-cloth finally falls from my hand.

  As he wraps the towel around his waist, his smirk deepens.

  “You’re here,” I finally say, sounding like a breathy sex hussy about to get her orgasm fix.

  Oh, all the orgasms. I want all the orgasms.

  He just continues to smirk that infuriating smirk, not speaking as he walks around me to head into my bedroom. You’d think he’d been here hundreds of times before, given how easily and comfortably he navigates his way. Then again, I have a small living room, a tiny bathroom, a barely-existing bedroom, and a half kitchen in desperate need of updating, so it’s not like there’s much to navigate.

  He uses the trail between boxes, and my eyes narrow as he grabs a bag from the floor and opens it up.

  “You have something to do with all this?” I ask, gesturing around me. “And why did you steal my arm? What was with all those weird pictures of my hand doing things like touching trucker nuts and mannequin boobs?”

  He almost smiles. Almost.

  “I didn’t steal your arm. I retrieved it from the Mulder kids before I left there. Anderson and I had to work together to get the damn thing back in one piece, because those kids are fucking vicious. As for the pictures… Did it piss you off that I sent them and wouldn’t respond when you were texting back?” he muses, his hands going to his towel-clad hips as he studies me.

  “It was annoying. What was the point?”

  “What was the point of sucking me off, then riding my dick like a rodeo champion before putting me in an orgasm-induced coma, then taking off without a word before I woke up?”

  Well, that’s some vivid imagery.

  “I don’t do goodbyes well,” I grumble, picking at an imaginary piece of lint on my shirt, unable to look at him anymore.

  “You suck at wooing,” he sighs, causing me to look back up as my brow pinches together.

  “What?”

  “You suck at wooing,” he repeats. “You were supposed to convince me to come see you after the wedding was over, but instead you chickened out. I expected as much though,” he says with a careless shrug.

  “What are you talking about?”

  A ghost of a smile flirts with the corners of his lips. “You’re the most fascinating contradiction I’ve ever met. You want to be cold and tough, but really you’re the warmest, gentlest girl there is. You’re confident and mock your insecurities, but really you’re just guarding yourself from anyone using those insecurities against you. You’re competitive and hate losing, but you can also swallow your pride and admit when you’re wrong. You’re strong, bounce back from adversity quickly, and want the best for everyone, but you won’t go after anything you personally want because of the deep-rooted fear of rejection. You’re as fragile as you are tough,” he says, still studying me.

  Is he trying to make me feel naked right now? Because it’s working.

  “It’s as refreshing as it is maddening,” he says on a sigh. “The ultimate contradiction.”

  “And that’s why you took pictures of my prosthetic doing weird things all week?” I ask, trying to follow his logic and get off the seriousness where he’s ripping me open and exposing everything inside.

  “No. I did that because you pissed me off by just leaving without a word, while I was still sleeping off being drained. For at least a few days, I wanted you to feel a fraction of the frustration and craziness you make me feel.” His jaw tics, and I stifle a grin.

  I don’t know why I find it funny when he’s pissed, but I do.

  “I drive you crazy?”

  “Certifiably,” he deadpans.

  “And all this?” I ask, gesturing around the room at the boxes and flowers. There are a lot more flowers than I noticed when I stumbled in here. Like, every type of flower. Roses. Lilies. Tulips—fucking tulips? You name it, it’s in my room. Fairly sure there’s even a Venus Flytrap by my window.

  He opens a box, pulls out a smaller white box, and tosses it to me. I catch it with my right hand, then stare down at the small box. It’s chocolate covered oranges.

  “That’s supposed to get me two orgasms, by the way,” he says, his lips fixed back in that smirk.

  “What?”

  He gestures around. “Did you not read the note?”

  “All the fucking woo?”

  He nods, his cockiness unwavering. “It’s obvious you suck at wooing, so that left it all to me. I know how to woo. You wanted flowers, chocolate covered oranges and strawberries, and you like your weird fucking underwear.”

  He opens another box, and I drop the chocolates—the horror!—to catch a pair of panties he tosses at my head without warning. I laugh when I read the front of them. Clit here. There’s even an arrow pointing to the part of the anatomy most guys need a map to find.

  “You didn’t specify what kind of flowers, so I just got a little bit of everything they had. Full disclosure: Some of the boxes are empty, but I thought it’d have a bigger impact if your place was loaded down with them,” he adds, then looks around. “Didn’t realize they’d take up this much room, though.”

  “It’s a small apartment above a garage. Not a house.”

  He turns his gaze back to me, while I struggle not to let my legs turn to rubber. I’ve never been wooed before.

  “This is crazy,” I say, even though my breath is shaky.

  It’s getting realer by the second.

  “So are you,” he says without an ounce of humor. “Turns out it’s what I’ve been missing in my life.”

  He takes a step toward me, and I feel like gravity is kicking my ass, pushing me toward him as I close the rest of the distance.

  He grabs my hips, gently tugging me closer as I tip my head back to stare up at him.


  “We barely know each other.”

  “Which is why I used some of the insane amount of vacation hours I had to take off every Friday and Monday for the next two months. We’ll have very long weekends to get to know each other and give this a real chance, Kasha.”

  I melt against him, tempted to pinch myself.

  A startled cry escapes me when a sharp pain hits my leg. I look down in disbelief as Jill actually freaking pinches me.

  Roman’s eyebrows raise as I mutter a curse and start stripping out of my harness. Damn smart arm.

  His fingers brush mine, and I look up as he studies the harness, carefully taking over as my hand falls away. With deft fingers, he finishes undoing the straps, and I stare at his face, drinking in the sight of him.

  “Where’d you find the chocolates?” I ask as he removes my arm. I’m now just talking to keep myself from blurting out something stupid, like, “Please give me orgasms now! Or…take me with you when you go!”

  He flashes me a full smile as he twists his body and carefully places Jill on my dresser. His hands come back to my face, cupping it as he says in a very serious tone, “There’s a chocolate delicacy store two blocks from my place.”

  Oh, I’m going to fall in love.

  I shudder, and he bends, kissing a spot between my neck and shoulder, eliciting a few more tremors. “They also have cakes, and pies, and everything else sweet you can imagine.”

  I moan, and he grins against the spot on my neck.

  “My mother will be furious if I’m in a size eight before Christmas,” I say absently.

  “I’ll help you burn off all the chocolate calories,” he murmurs, and I press into him more, my fingers moving down firm flesh to where his towel is.

  He’s mostly dry now, but I lean over and lick one drop of water from his chest. His grip on me tightens, sending a shot of empowerment through me. I love the way he reacts to me.

  “How will you do that?” I ask, playing along.

  “By letting you practice your blowjob skills until they’re good,” he says, making me… want to freaking slap him.

  I jerk back to see the asshole grinning down at me, his hands sliding over my shoulders.

  “I give the best blowjob ever, and you know it.”

  He rolls his eyes. “There’s that competitiveness. Don’t worry. I’ll keep coaching you until you really are the best.”

  My mouth falls open in indignant outrage. “My name means blowjob in the Urban Dictionary! I can suck a tennis ball through a garden hose, so don’t give me that shit. My head-giving skills are awesome.”

  Something crashes outside my apartment door, and I hear someone coughing and stumbling away. Hope that wasn’t Dad.

  Roman’s lips twitch as he steps back and jerks his towel off. My eyes drop to his very erect appendage that is waving like it’s daring me to prove myself.

  “It’s okay,” Roman says, grinning like the asshole he is. “I’m sure all the guys before me didn’t have this much to work with,” he adds, gesturing down at that waving dick of his. “You’ll get better. Promise.”

  I glare at him, and his smile spreads. I think he loves pissing me off as much as I love pissing him off.

  A slow, evil grin curves my lips. “Since we’re doing the honesty thing about oral skills, I guess I should let you know there’s room for improvement on your end as well. I suppose we’ll coach each other,” I say, patting him on the chest.

  The amusement in his eyes dies as a hard looks comes over his face. “This—” he gestures to his mouth “—is fucking legendary. My skills are fucking epic.”

  I exhale heavily, shaking my head as if in sympathy, even though I’m brutally aware of how good he is with that mouth. It’s not like I can tell him that after he just insulted my awesomeness.

  “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but girls are notorious for faking it.” Just to really drive home my point, I pull out my best porn star girl voice and dump out my theatrical drama. “Oh, Roman! Right there! Yes! Oooohhh. Ahhhh. You’re amazing!”

  I even grip my hair, throw my head back, and give him my best “O” face just to fuck with him.

  My breath leaves in a rush when I’m suddenly lifted into the air and dumped onto the bed. Roman’s eyes are narrowed, and he’s definitely pissed. But I think he’s a little determined too.

  Ah yeah.

  I grin bigger, sliding up on the bed as I continue with my fake orgasm taunts. “Ah! Oooohhhh. You’re the best ever!” I moan and get all breathy, but then a shriek leaves my lips when Roman jerks my shorts off and tosses them away.

  He flips me over, and I giggle as he starts undoing the laces on the back of my shirt. It’s not until a deep rumble of laughter floats out of him that I think about the underwear I’m wearing.

  I groan as he slaps my ass. The ass that says “Fart Loading” with a little loading bar underneath.

  “It’s hard to take you serious when I see shit like this,” he says, that deep, rich laughter still sneaking out of him.

  “Why can’t I be one of those normal girls who wears a string up her ass?” I groan into the pillow. “Those girls are badass, because that shit can’t be comfortable, yet they strut around like rock stars.”

  He leans over me, his hands trailing up the skin of my back as he unclasps my bra with one hand.

  “I wouldn’t be here with you right now if you were normal. I’ve had too much normal,” he says, kissing the side of my neck.

  My body arches back into his as he works my bra over my shoulders, and then he rolls me over again. His body hovers over mine as I shed the shirt and bra completely, and he tugs my underwear off like he can’t get them away fast enough.

  His lips find mine the second I’m fully naked, and I moan into his mouth, not faking it one bit. Everything about him feels right.

  I didn’t realize how much I missed kissing him until this moment. His lips seek and search, and his tongue dares me to deny its skills as it works to drive me into a grinding frenzy. If he had a leg between mine right now, I’d totally be humping it—shamelessly.

  Each roll of his tongue delivers an electric shiver up my spine that then shoots outwards to the rest of my body, letting every part of me enjoy the same incredible feeling my mouth gets to.

  His hand slides downward, teasing the valley of my breasts on its descent, skating across my lower belly with a barely-there touch, and my entire body quakes when his thumb finds that one spot that controls all women. The pressure he applies is diabolical and calculated, giving me just enough to try and grind again, but pulling back with my arch so that I’m denied the extra pressure needed.

  His lips break apart from mine, and he groans as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, letting that glorious tongue wreak havoc on the sensitive flesh the same way it did in my mouth. I shouldn’t have teased him. Now he’s going to make me pay by teasing me in a more tormenting way.

  “Please,” I rasp, but he ignores me, stopping his thumb just as my orgasm tries to surface. The simmering release fades away at the loss of pressure, the quick retreat replaced by a dull ache. I internally curse the sexy man on top of me.

  The length of his body slides against mine, all hard and dominating, driving me wild. His erection taunts me, pressing into my leg, as he kisses his way down my chest. He palms both of my breasts, squeezing as he kisses around my navel. Weird little sounds escape me as I arch, my little lady seeking his perfect mouth.

  His tongue darts out, giving a teasing lick to that overly sensitive spot, and I jerk in response. Then he seizes my clit, his tongue and teeth working to make me eat all those lies about him being orally challenged.

  Writhing and thrashing beneath him like an unskilled virgin, I grab his hair, holding on like a one-armed lunatic as those sounds leave me in higher pitches. No longer do I sound like a sexy porn star with all my fake moans and chatter. Now I sound like a rabid beast chasing after a bone.

  And I explode embarrassingly fast, crying out his name in
such a shrill pitch that dogs start barking in the distance. Roman comes up fast, his lips still wet with me, but he kisses me deep and hard, and thrusts inside at the same time, as though he’s the one in desperate need.

  My fingers tangle in his hair, while my partial left arm props on his shoulder, deepening the kiss as much as I can as he pulls his hips back and thrusts in again. He groans into my mouth, and I feel every vibration of it inside my body.

  My legs slide up as I rock against him when he goes still.

  “Condom,” he rasps against my lips.

  “Birth control,” I say back, refusing to unlock my legs even as he tries to pry them from his hips.

  I realize that’s not all the talking we need to do on the subject, but I’m too far gone to think rationally. He is too when he moves inside me again, and I fight to hang on.

  The movements cause him to groan once more, and he shudders against me, his lips and teeth carving a trail down my neck, nibbling and kissing.

  Then he thrusts, and all else is forgotten as he returns his lips to mine in a rough kiss that imitates the way he’s fucking me. It’s incredible, and sexy, and oh so freaking perfect.

  When that feeling buds in my core this time, it’s too powerful to even stave off. I break the kiss to keep from biting him, and I’m crying out again as everything contracts inside me. A wave of electric tingles wash over me, and I become a boneless puppet in his arms as he chases his own release.

  He comes with a grunt and a praised curse, and I grin against him as he drops to me, panting.

  “Can’t, breathe,” I say, mocking a strained, breathless tone.

  I can breathe just fine and he knows it, since he’s keeping the bulk of his weight off me.

  “You can’t disappear if I pin you down,” he mumbles against me. “And it sounds like my oral skills aren’t in question anymore.”

  I grin like an idiot, because he reduces me to a goofy grinner with spread-em-wide legs when he’s around.

  “Totally faked it,” I lie, panting for air between words.

  His rumble of laughter makes me grin, and I slide my fingers up his back, kissing his shoulder as he continues to hold me to him. As much as I’d love to skate over the subject, I decide to be serious with him, letting my grin fall.