by S. M. Soto
He works my lips with finesse, his tongue stroking mine so seductively that I feel the effects of it shoot straight down to my core. I can’t get enough of his mouth. The way he tastes, the deep lashes of his tongue. He is unrestrained, but oh, so skilled. There is knowledge in the way he handles me, experience that promises pleasure too heady to resist.
We break apart from each other, both of us heaving for much-needed breath. “I don’t know if I hate how good you are at this, or if I love it.”
His hands trail down my ass, and he lifts. My ankles wrap around him, and before I can inhale another breath, his lips are on mine again. We stumble inside his house, crashing into the walls of the hallway, tumbling onto his bed, all limbs and lips. With frantic hands, I grapple at his shirt, trying to get him to take it off. With the lights on, I get a full glimpse of his body, and a moan reverberates in my chest. I run my hands down the ridges of his abs. He’s perfect, absolutely perfect.
For every article of clothing he sheds, he helps me do the same. I’m so caught up in him and what his touch is doing to my body, I don’t notice him freeze when he rips my shirt and bra off.
“What’s this from?” The pad of his finger lightly traces the ugly scar along my sternum. My hands fly to my chest, trying to cover it, before he can get a better look, but he grips my hand in his, stopping me.
I don’t know how I forgot about this. Hell, I don’t know how he’s just noticing it now. Maybe because the lights are on, maybe because this is the first time we’re taking our time with each other, exploring our bodies while fully naked. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I glance away, avoiding his probing gaze.
There’s no way I can talk myself out of this or ignore him. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it, to come clean about everything, but a startled gasp flies out, instead, when he touches me. With a caress that’s so gentle and soft, so unlike him, he traces it. He runs his finger over the scar, and the effects of his touch, of his hands on me, even if it’s just one finger, have my heart pounding. My blood is rushing through my body, roaring through my ears.
For some unknown reason, tears spring to my eyes.
“Why are you hiding, Olivia?”
Because I like you.
Because if you knew the truth, you’d run. Just like everyone else.
Because I want you to want me.
I don’t say any of those things, though.
“Because the scar is ugly.”
“Embrace your scars. They’re what make you beautiful. They’re what tell your story. And this one?” He leans into me, dipping his head down to rub his lips across the scar. “Is no different.”
I’m speechless, as this man stares up at me through his lashes. Rogue strands of chocolate hair hang down in his face, making him look boyish and painfully handsome. I don’t know what’s happening, but the force between us is tangible. I can taste it. All I want to do is lean up and taste him.
“Heart surgery.” It feels like I swallow my tongue after I say those words. His brows tug down, and for the first time ever, I see worry flit across his features. It’s written there in the bright color of his eyes.
“You’re all good now, right? There’s not—”
I nod, tracing my fingers over his lips, stopping him, before he can finish that thought. I figure it’s not really a lie if I don’t use words. Rome doesn’t need to know that my heart defect won’t ever be one hundred percent healed. I’ll never not have to worry about it. It’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.
I could tell him, but I don’t want to risk him running, just like Reid did. I think it’s why he tried so hard not to get our relationship to work. Because he knew what my odds were. He knew what he was getting into with me, and I was afraid losing him would mean starting over with someone else, who might not be capable of handling it.
And as I stare up at Roman, even though I want him to want me, truth and all, with everything else he already has on his plate, holding the truth from him is as much for his benefit as it is mine.
“Kiss me,” I beg.
And he does. He kisses me until I’m panting. He slides down my body, his tongue showing extra attention to my breasts, drawing moans out of me. His hand dips between my legs, fingers swirling between my wet folds. It’s all so much, the different sensations he’s eliciting, and I can’t keep up with them all.
His tongue flutters over my folds, and a long digit slides inside me. He pumps slowly at first, taking his time with me. Toying with me, he uses his fingers and mouth. My hands fist into his bedsheets, and I writhe on the bed. My stomach dips with the euphoric sensations he evokes in my body. I feel my orgasm looming. I’m on the cusp of coming, just from his tongue alone.
When he slides a second finger inside me and begins scissoring them, going faster, then slower, my hands fly to his head for support.
“That’s it, baby,” he breathes into my sex, as he fucks me with his mouth and fingers. “Ride my fingers. Just like that, Olivia.”
Colors flash sporadically behind my closed lids, and I groan, my body spasming violently on the bed, as my orgasm rips through me. His movements are so quick that I barely have a moment to catch my breath, before he has me positioned on all fours, and he’s hovering behind me, angling his cock at my entrance.
“Jesus Christ, you look good like this,” he groans, as he slips inside me. Our moans are a chorus around us. The sound of wet flesh slapping and cries of pleasure percolate in the room. With a skill that I’m beginning to both love and loathe, he pounds me into the mattress from behind. I find it so hot when I glance up, looking at the window, and I find our reflection staring back at us. If I look hard enough, I can see into my bedroom, but right now, all I can focus on are the strong sinews of muscles jumping and flexing in Rome’s body, as he fucks me.
“You watching, baby?” he whispers seductively in my ear, pointing at his window. I moan, because yes, I am looking, and I find I can’t look away. Our height difference should be a problem, but like this, the way he towers over me, taking me is so hot. When he lifts my legs, changing the angle of his thrusts, my eyes roll into the back of my head. The tip of his cock is hitting something inside me, and with each thrust, it rubs, building and building, until I feel like I’m going to explode.
“Oh God,” I choke.
“I can see everything from here, Olivia. Even in the dark.” My core clenches violently at his words, because I know what he’s getting at. Jesus. This is messed up. Looking beyond our reflection, I look into my bedroom, and he’s right. I can see everything. Even in the dark. My heart is starting to pound at the realization.
“Every time I was with them, I thought of you. The woman next door I couldn’t have. The one I didn’t deserve to have.”
His words wrap around my heart and squeeze. The effects of it zap me straight in the core.
“So, every time…you saw…?” I pant, trying to force the words past my lips, but with each thrust of his hips, I’m falling apart a little more. I’m falling for him a little more.
He kisses a path down my neck. “Oh, I saw, baby. I watched. I craved you.”
“Roman,” I groan out, his words my undoing.
“That’s it, baby. Come all over my cock.”
I do just that. With each swirl of his fingers over my clit, each pump of his hips, I ride out my orgasm, words and noises falling from my lips that never have before. I collapse onto the bed, and his grip on my hips tightens, as he finishes. He follows, soon after, scooping me into his arms.
We both lie there, staring up at the ceiling, as we work to control our breathing. There’s a sudden howl that’s coming from his hallway, and I glance up at him, laughing under my breath.
“Someone feels left out.”
Rome’s lips quirk. “Horny bastard.”
His fingers trail up and down my spine in featherlight motions, practically lulling me to sleep. I rest my cheek on his chest, relishing in the feel of his warm skin beneath mine. The sound o
f his heart beating, the synchronicity, is a song I didn’t realize I’ve been dying to hear.
“You know, I always wondered what this tattoo said.” I run the pad of my fingers over the script tattoo on his pec.
“Got it a while back. During one of my stints in jail.”
I smile sadly, thinking about the words inked across his flesh.
Learn from yesterday. Live for today. Hope for tomorrow.
“I think one day, when I stop being a chicken, I’ll get one. It’s sort of been at the top of my bucket list, but I’m sure you know how that goes.”
He laughs huskily. “Not really. Didn’t realize people still did bucket lists.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t have one?”
“Nope.”
“Fine, I’ll share mine with you. I mean, it only seems fair.”
His chest rumbles beneath me as he stifles his laughter and it makes me smile. God, I could get used to this.
A thought suddenly strikes me, and even though it might ruin the mood, I need to know.
“Can I ask you something?”
His answer is a gruff, “Yeah,” that I feel vibrate beneath my head.
“How many women…?” I pause, trying to figure out a way to phrase the question. “Since I’ve moved in, how many women have you slept with?” I feel the muscles in his chest tighten, and I jump to add, “I only ask, because of all the women I saw coming and going.”
He’s silent. Far too silent. I start to wonder if maybe I pissed him off somehow or took it too far, by asking a question like this. But when I hear him chuckle, I nudge him in the ribs, my own lips twisting ruefully.
“Two. Both of them were to purge you from my mind, and everyone else I tried with, it just…”
My heart is beating rapidly at his admission. “Just what?”
“Just didn’t happen. I couldn’t do it. Especially not when I was thinking about all the ways I wanted to be fucking you instead.”
Glitter bursts in my chest, and my breath catches. Hearing this news shouldn’t make me as happy as it does, but Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I can’t help the relieved breath that escapes. It’s empowering to know I held so much space in his head that he couldn’t sleep with anyone else, because he was thinking of me. I’d like to say I’m not the jealous type, but that would be a lie. The idea of Rome sleeping with hordes of women makes me sick to my stomach. His admission has tamped down that swell of jealousy. I find myself burrowing deeper into his embrace, relishing in the feel of his skin against mine.
Since I asked him something deeply personal, seems he is doing the same. “Now it’s my turn.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“How long ago did you have heart surgery?”
I tense at the question. I should’ve known he wouldn’t let me leave it at that.
“I was just a kid, Rome. It was so long ago.”
He’s silent. Processing. “What caused it?”
I swallow thickly, wishing he would change the subject. Wishing I didn’t have that goddamn scar on my chest. I’d be able to avoid all of this. I’m not ready to tell him. I’m not ready for him to look at me any differently than he does now.
“I was born with a heart defect. By the time I was five, I had already undergone three open-heart surgeries. This scar, in particular, is from a valve replacement.”
“Does it affect everyday life for you? Do you see the doctor regularly?”
I heave a deep sigh. He sounds too worried. This was the last thing I wanted. “I told you I’m fine now.” Lie. “I take my medication. I have a doctor. I have it all under control.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”
Guilt slams into my chest as he searches my gaze. There’s so much worry there. I can’t stand it.
I press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I will.”
Another lie.
“Your dad’s questions make a whole lot more sense now.”
My brows tug low. “I didn’t know he asked you about me. What did he say?”
Roman lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “He just asked if you were taking care of yourself. I didn’t know there was anything that needed to be taken care of, so I didn’t exactly have an answer for him. He also said they worry about you, being here all on your own.”
I roll my eyes. Yeah, that definitely sounds like my parents. “They coddle me. It was one of the main reasons I left.” I sigh. “I’ve always wanted to be independent, but with their constant hovering, I never really could.”
“Do you miss it there?”
I think about Long Beach, my old apartment, my ex. A wave of contentment rolls through me.
“I don’t actually. There isn’t a single thing in Long Beach I miss.”
His grip tightens around me. Using this opportunity to steer the topic away from me, I put the spotlight on him, instead.
“So, I know this is new, and I may be overstepping my bounds, but those women who would come here…” I make a face, even thinking about Roman with anyone else. “Were they your girlfriends?”
A laugh bubbles in his chest, vibrating beneath my ear. “No. Relationships weren’t my thing. Those were just women I fucked.”
“That’s kind of shitty, Rome.”
He shrugs. I lift my head, popping my chin on my hands, and stare up at him. “It’s the truth.”
“What about me? What am I to you? Just someone you’re fucking?”
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, letting the tips of his fingers graze my cheek in the process. “You’re much more than that.”
My heart skitters in my chest. “Why?”
“I wish I knew. All I know is, when I’m with you, Sunshine, heaven feels a whole hell of a lot closer.”
My heart does something strange at that moment. His words wrap around the organ and squeeze. I feel emotion tug at my tear ducts, but I refuse to cry over such sweet words. I search his warm gaze, falling into the swirl of blues and grays there. “Are we…?” He quirks a brow, waiting for me to finish that sentence. I chicken out, deciding to take the easier way out. “Are we exclusive? I mean, how will this work?”
His brows draw together, and heat enters his molten gaze. “You’re crazy if you think you’re going to be fucking anyone else but me.”
A laugh bursts from my chest. “Well, gee. Way to turn up the romance.”
He’s still frowning. “I’m serious. We’re exclusive. Monogamous. Whatever damn label you want to put on it. You’re mine. And I don’t share what’s mine, Olivia.”
Despite his alpha-asshole spiel, a smile breaks across my face. “I prefer the term ‘girlfriend.’”
He rolls his eyes, but I see the amusement there, along with the smirk he’s failing to hide. “Fine. If that’s what you want to call it.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of an asshole?”
A softness enters his eyes, and the effect of it has warmth spiraling through my chest and a hoard of angry bees swarming through my stomach. The buzzing radiating from there is almost too distracting. Almost. He traces my lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Taking my chin between his fingers, he tugs me toward him, ever so gently, pressing his lips against mine.
“Too often to count, babe.”
“All Night”—Beyoncé
After spending the weekend alternating between my bed and Rome’s bed, I wake up Monday morning to the rude awakening of work. I’ve had a blissful weekend, where I didn’t have to deal with Travis, but that small reprieve ends today.
When I hear the honking from outside, I grab my purse and a breakfast bar, before I lock up. I asked Kassandra to give me a ride to and from work this week, since I’m still carless. Roman promised he would give me updates on what’s happening, once they get the new part in. It was kind of comical. After spending an entire weekend having sex and exploring each other’s bodies, we’d only exchanged phone numbers this morning, before he left for work at the garage.
He didn
’t seem all that enthused that I’d be heading back to work today with Travis, but I assured him I’d come up with a solution for his advances. I didn’t tell him, yet, that that solution still wasn’t having a discussion with Samuel. The last thing I want to do is piss Samuel off, or his son, and be out of a job.
Jobless.
Carless.
Neither of those things sound appealing.
“Olivia, can I speak to you before your shift begins?” Samuel says, popping his head out of his office. My stomach cramps. Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I nod, forcing a smile, as I follow him into his office.
He blows out a weary sigh, dropping his glasses on his desk. “About the other day, with Travis. I wanted to make sure…did he corner you?”
My eyes widen with surprise.
I wasn’t expecting this.
I was expecting him to take his son’s side and fire me.
Pressing my lips together, I war with myself and mull my options over. Even if I do tell him about what happened with Travis, that’s his son, so what is he really going to do? There’s no doubt in my mind I’ll have to be let go and the people in the office will gossip, and I’ll be the problem.
Even though it physically pains me to do so, I shake my head. “No. It was just a misunderstanding. That’s all. I’m fine.” The words are acid on my tongue.
Samuel searches my gaze. It’s as if he’s waiting for me to change my story, but I square my shoulders, determined to leave it in the past. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he nods.
“You’re free to go. I just wanted to check in on you, Olivia.”
“Thank you, Samuel. I appreciate it.”
I’m able to avoid Travis throughout most of my shift. After my conversation with his father, I’m all the more determined to keep my distance. That is, until after lunch. We have a dog in for a clean break, an open wound near the ribs and what looks to be a shattered jaw. Travis needs all hands-on deck and that includes me, much to his chagrin.
It’s obvious he’s been purposely choosing everyone else for help over me. It’s spiteful and petty, because he knows how much I love healing animals. Hell, he used to compliment me on how good I was at all of this. Now, he has me second-guessing myself and my abilities. Was he only saying those things because he wanted in my pants, or did he really mean them? Chances are, he didn’t. That would explain why, instead, he’d have me clean up and not join in on any of the action.
