by Julia Bright
Hopelessness had him tugging a duffle from his closet and randomly stuffing the bag full of his clothes. He paid no attention to which shirts he ripped off the hangers, the buttons that went flying under the brute force he used to free those clothes or the one that never actually made it inside the duffle bag.
Nothing in the world mattered anymore.
He didn’t have what it took to correct his past mistakes. He’d ruined his life years ago and would pay the price for the rest of his days.
Why had his parents even shown up? They didn’t give a damn about him. How in the world did they get their hands on a LA-based tabloid magazine?
He furrowed his brow, closing his eyes and wishing he’d never let them inside this house.
What if Maddie had been home?
That made a menacing anger churn in his belly, slicing through all the conflicting self-doubt and loathing. Fuck them and fuck their self-righteous judgment. They’d be privileged to know Presley and should be proud to have such a beautiful grandchild as Madison.
Now, they’d never know that honor.
Standing in the middle of the room, his chest heaving under all the pain, Roan took the duffle by the strap and slammed the bag on to the bed, willing himself to calm down. He took a deep breath, sliding his eyes closed. The smell of fresh-cut lilacs filled his senses. Anger on a whole new level erupted. He shouldn’t even know what that smelled like. Living with a woman had everything in this house smelling good. What the fuck was that even about? Candles and perfumes were everywhere he turned!
He needed out of this house. He couldn’t think straight with all this fragrance assaulting him from every direction.
Roan went for the bag, taking inventory of what he’d managed to pack and saw six button-down shirts and one pair of athletic shorts. He looked back toward the closet and the trail of clothing on the floor. A pained growl erupted from his throat. He couldn’t even pack a fucking bag any more. Presley had him turning every which way but the one he wanted to go. Fury had him ripping at the material of the duffel, tearing the zipper apart then beating the bag up against the mattress until he tossed the bag aside and ripped all the bedding off. He fought with the blankets until they lay limp at his feet.
He’d won the battle of the covers, but that wasn’t enough.
No. He had to win the war. If nothing else, the physical outlet had helped him focus on what he knew to be true.
Presley was his! He just barely resisted the primal urge to beat a fist against his chest as he stared intently at the door.
Every bit of longing and devotion returned.
There was not a person on this planet more devoted to Presley’s happiness than he was.
And the fucked-up thing, he knew she wanted him. He knew it. He’d catch her staring at him. He was so in tune with her that he could sense her attraction. He’d walked around this house with his dick so fucking hard for six solid weeks, watching her watch him. He couldn’t count the times he’d jerked himself off. He was the cleanest guy in the world for all the time he spent in the shower with his dick in his palm, trying for relief, all because she determinedly fought their attraction. The woman just wouldn’t give.
It was time she did.
With a sole focus of cave-manning his way back inside Presley’s heart, Roan flung his door open and started for her room. Halfway there, he abruptly stopped, spinning back around as worry threatened his plan. This was a bad idea. She’d made her position clear. “I need to leave. This is done. I’m done. I tried.”
Back inside his room, he stood in the middle of the mess he’d created. His shoulders slumped as the rage turned to gloom. In his fit of anger and frustration, he’d destroyed the duffle, torn all the sheets off his bed, and the lamp lay askew on his nightstand. This wasn’t him or at least the him he wanted to be. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He’d fought through a dark haze to find himself again, and now he was on that same destructive path as before.
In a much more reasonable, calm tone, he said aloud what he knew was the right decision to make. “I’m done. I’m leaving.”
That made the most sense. He needed to put his life back together. Forget any sort of relationship with Presley and concentrate on his future. Maddie needed him balanced, and she was the most important part of any plan for his life.
Decision made.
Instead of grabbing his keys and heading out, Roan instinctively backtracked to Presley’s bedroom. The door was still slightly ajar, and he stuck his head inside. She wasn’t in the bedroom, but the bathroom door was cracked open. When he started to knock, he thought better of it and pushed open the door to find the shower turned on, Presley nude, and her hand reaching out to check the warmth of the spray.
His head almost exploded at the scene before him; it was too much. As if in slow motion, Presley turned to him. Their gazes connected. She didn’t move or cover herself.
Instinctively—and to hell with any well-thought-out plan—Roan entered while tugging his polo shirt over his head. He stalked toward her, and dear God, she turned fully toward him, letting him have his fill. Her red, swollen eyes looked resigned, and she took a step in his direction.
Reason surfaced, halting Roan momentarily. This had always been their problem. They had sex before they talked things through. As she took another step, he knew today would be no different. Her fresh scent assaulted his senses as Roan wrapped both arms around her waist, and she threaded her arms behind his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair.
“You love me?” she whispered as he bent his head toward her.
“I’ve always loved you,” he said, inches from her mouth.
“I’m scared,” she confessed so sweetly. Those words probably the only thing that could make him move the fraction of an inch away from her mouth. His gaze didn’t falter, staring her straight in the eyes as he declared himself and his intentions to her.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that you have nothing to fear from me.”
Presley gave a small smile then an ugly sniffle followed by a tears-induced hiccup. The tears were dry, but the impact of such a cry still lingered as he gently, almost reverently, pressed his lips to hers. He tightened his arms around her body, lifting her as she opened and swept her tongue inside his mouth.
He carried her through the bathroom into the bedroom in that awkward hold, never breaking from the kiss until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. Careful to maintain the kiss, he began to lower her to the bed, only rising enough to release the button and zipper to his shorts. They fell to the floor as he put a knee on the mattress between her spread thighs. With an arm anchored around her back, he hoisted her higher on the bed, still never breaking from the sensual sweep of his tongue over hers. He pushed his boxers low, and his jutting cock sprang free.
Presley tore her mouth from his, using her hands to shove at his biceps then push at his shoulders. It took a second for him to realize she wanted free.
No! No… She couldn’t have second thoughts. Her shifts from passion to panic were too much. He wasn’t walking away this time. He couldn’t seem to let her go and found himself holding her tighter, fighting her need to break free. “Give me a chance, Pres. Please. I need this.”
The insistence crossing her face turned to humor. “I don’t want to rush, Roan. I want to suck you.”
The words took a second to decipher. His head might have had a hard time keeping up, but his dick was right on board, and his hips rolled involuntarily, trying to get closer to her lovely mouth. She shimmied from his hold, pushing him to his back as she reached for his needy cock. His dick was exactly where it wanted to be. Presley’s fingers curled around his shaft as she pushed her hair out of the way with her other hand. Seconds before those beautiful lips opened to take his broad head into her mouth, she stopped and turned, looking him straight in the eyes. “I haven’t ever done this before.”
He wasn’t certain he’d heard her right. For some unknown reason, when she started to lo
wer, he lifted a hand to her chin, keeping her from taking his dick to her mouth. The words made no sense and he tried hard to understand. “Haven’t done what, beautiful?
“This.” Instead of explaining further, Presley gave his dick a toe-curling base to tip tug, and his dick wept in appreciation. He hissed out a breath and reached for Presley’s hair, pushing the long strands back so he could see her. The meaning of her statement faded. All he cared about were those lips on his cock, and he wanted to see the exact moment she took him in her mouth. “So tell me when I do something wrong.”
His hand lifted to her chin again, knowing that his dick was ready to explode in all its eagerness. An internal battle waged within him as he lifted his head, trying to make sense of her words.
“How many men have you been with?”
What the hell had he just asked? His dick lost some of its eagerness. Why had he even asked that? A question almost as effective as a bucket of cold water dumping on his head. He wanted to rewind time and eat those disastrous words. What the hell was wrong with him?
“I’ve only been with you. I dated a couple of times, but never got that far. It’s only been you, Roan.” Her feather-soft voice caressed his senses like a nice sensual rub. Instantly rigidly hard again, his chest constricted, and he dropped his head on the mattress, his hand going to his crazily beating heart. No fucking way she’d remained chaste all these years. It was too much to consider. “Tell me, okay?”
He managed a thumbs-up and did in fact miss the minute her tongue flicked across his tip, licking up those droplets, but he lifted in enough time to watch as she took him slowly inside her warm, moist mouth, barely registering his surprise at how far she made it on her first try. When she raised her head, using her tongue to slide up the underside, her fist following along the wet trail, Roan dropped his head back, wrinkled his brow, and concentrated on breathing while trying everything to steady his fucking pulse. If not, he was going to have a coronary right there. This time, Presley’s fingers trailed up his inner thigh, to his sac, playing with his balls as his cock slid farther in this time.
Roan lost his mind.
He’d explore all the possibilities of her flawless mouth later, but for now, he reached down for her, one hand tangling in her silky hair, the other grabbing her shoulder. He dragged her forward, rolling her to her back. He assaulted her mouth, turning feral when he tasted the hints of his own pre-come still lingering on Presley’s tongue. There would be no more waiting. Roan grabbed his cock as he moved between her thighs and swiped his tip along her soaking wet center. She was primed and ready. Sucking him had turned her on, and the knowledge was earth shattering. Presley tried to jerk away from his mouth, but his hand clamped on her jaw, keeping her in place. His voice was gravelly and laced with need as all his dominance and possession came through in his tone. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“We need a condom, Roan. We have to do this right.”
“No fucking way. Not ever again. I want a baseball team with you.”
Presley grinned at what he hoped looked like determination crossing his features. She lifted a hand to caress his cheek. With his tip at her entrance, she arched her hips, bringing him inside her. Roan shifted. In one mind-blowing thrust, he seated himself in the snug confides of her clenching core. Presley’s body had the same healing powers as always. She felt like home, and Roan’s head went to the crook of her neck. He kissed the bare skin there as she arched her body into his, wrapping herself around him. Presley gave a gratifying throaty moan as he reared back and thrust forward again. The toe-curling sensations had Roan tensing. He locked his hips in place, buried balls deep, exactly where he always wanted to be. She eased all his worry and settled his heart. She was his magic.
“It feels so good,” Presley whispered, all raspy and sensual, her breath ghosting across his heated skin. He fisted a hand in her long dark hair, holding her head in place, driving his tongue deep inside her mouth as he began to move with purpose. He wanted to brand himself on her, like she had done to him. He found his rhythm, sensually moving his hips back and forth in zero rush to speed this along. Roan reverently made love to his woman, guiding her along to orgasm, loving the small sounds she made as she encouraged him toward completion. He kissed her, greedily taking everything as he moved on top of her, his palm reaching for her breast, his thumb circling and caressing her tightened nipple. He prayed that he conveyed just how much he cherished her.
When her back arched to his touch, her body thrust forward, and he matched her move, grinding his hips into hers. He squeezed and pinched the hard bud, raising enough to look down at the swell. He said nothing, just watched the bounce of her breasts as he rocked his cock in and out of her intoxicatingly sexy body. Her hands came to his cheeks, lifting his face. Everything he ever wanted from her was reflected in the honesty of her gaze. Her palm lowered to cover his heart.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
She started to respond, but stopped herself. He watched Presley swallow the words she’d almost said, and he wanted her to speak her truth more than he wanted anything else in the world.
“You’re my life…” he said truthfully and kissed the corner of her mouth.
“Roan,” she said, covering his lips with her fingers, but he wouldn’t be stopped. Not now, not ever again.
“You’re the love of my life, Presley. I’ll never let you be hurt again. I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes at her hopelessly loving gaze. Even if she wouldn’t say the words, he’d seen them reflected back to him and lowered his forehead to hers. The orgasm tingling along his spine, the one he’d been holding off, would no longer be contained. Roan’s hips broke the rhythm he’d created and began pistoning in and out of her delicious body, pumping, thrusting, moving her across the mattress while heat built in his veins. He willed her to come along with him before it was too late. Presley dug her heels into the mattress and worked at matching him thrust for thrust. Her body tensed and her hands circled his biceps while her fingernails dug into the skin of his arms. He hadn’t even needed to touch her center. Presley called out his name, tossing her head backward as he jackhammered his hips and just held on. Roan pitched his hips forward, locked himself in place, and came on a possessive roar. She was his. Nothing else mattered.
Maybe as much as a minute passed before Roan collapsed on top of Presley, gathering her in his arms. He hugged her tight, loving that her arms went around his waist, holding him just as tightly to her. He relished their closeness. Roan steadied the pounding of his heart and allowed his breathing to slow. Presley’s scent filled him, and he nuzzled his face into the silky strands of her hair, letting her heal any lingering traces of doubt. She was perfect. So perfect, and he tucked his arms under her body, squeezing her closer to him.
He moved his face to somewhere around her ear and whispered, “I’m not trying to do the gift horse thing, but what happened?”
“I can’t breathe.” Presley was trying to suck in air, and for the first time, her hands on his chest weren’t caressing, instead, they were pushing at him. He chuckled as he immediately rolled off her, taking her with him, sprawling her small body across his.
“Answer my question now,” he said, pushing her hair away from her face while keeping her locked there against his chest. When she didn’t respond right away, he used a hand to lift her face by the chin as he waited.
“No,” she finally replied, making him give a hearty laugh this time.
“Okay, but you gotta give me something to build on, Pres.” He dropped his head back down to the mattress. It was too much effort to keep looking at her in that position. He fought his fuzzy brain, that sated, relaxed, after-sex thing had started to take over.
She lowered her head and lay there so long he didn’t think she planned to answer. When she finally did, her warm breath caressed across his skin, much like her words to his heart. “You just opened the door and looked so sad and something in me snapped. All this tension we’ve had then your paren
ts were so ugly and you stood up to them for Maddie and for me. That had to be hard.” Presley stopped speaking, lifting her head as he did too. She laid a hand on his chest, resting her chin there. She stared at him, and he waited, sensing she wasn’t finished. “And because no other guy has ever lived up to my image of you. Even through the hard times, I never truly believed it was your fault. I knew I’d let you down in some way. I don’t know if that makes sense. It’s just always been you.”
“It’s always been you, too, Presley.” Not fully understanding her explanation, he still nodded his agreement to her last sentence. Roan rubbed a hand down her hair before reaching for a pillow, and stuffing it under his head.
“No matter what’s to blame, I can’t go through what I did before, Roan,” she said honestly.
“I’ll never voluntarily leave again. No matter what happens, I’m here.”
“It seems like you are.” She moved her hand and pressed her lips to his chest before startling then looking over her shoulder. He followed her gaze, seeing the bedroom door open, but Maddie was gone for the afternoon, so that shouldn’t have startled her. Seconds later, Presley pushed out of his arms. “Crap. The shower’s on.”
She scurried off the mattress, and Roan watched her naked ass run across the bedroom. It took him all of about thirty seconds to realize she was running toward the water.
“It’s still hot. How is it still hot?” she called out from the bathroom.
With a groan, Roan shoved off the bed, heading toward her. “It’s a tankless water heater.”
Some hot shower sex seemed right up his alley.
Hours later, Presley wrapped the terry cloth towel around her body, covering herself, putting a barrier between her and Roan, even if it were something as simple as a towel. She was starving and needed nourishment before she could go another round, and she’d made that position clear two rounds ago.
She began finger combing her wet hair as she reached for her comb. The long strands were an absolute tangled mess, made even more knotted by the hours of love making and multiple showers throughout the afternoon.
