My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring.
“That’s not funny, Roman. Don’t make jokes when you’ve just completely shattered the last shred of sanity I was clinging to,” I shot back, trying to regain my composure.
He leaned casually against the nightstand, unfazed. “You’re still talking, so I’m guessing that sanity wasn’t all that solid to begin with.”
My eyes narrowed, frustration bubbling up. “God, you are so smug.”
“Only when I’m right,” he replied smoothly, sauntering toward me as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re not mad because I caught you. You’re mad because you liked what you saw.”
“I didn’t.”
He tilted his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “You’re blushing all over, Sav.”
“Out of shock,” I retorted, crossing my arms defensively.
“Sure,” he said, amusement dancing in his voice. “You sounded really shocked earlier when you clenched around me.”
I huffed, turning my back to him in exasperation. “You’re impossible.”
He climbed into the bed, laughter bubbling up as I scooted away from him, trying to put distance between us. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I shot back.
Roman pulled back the covers and slid in beside me, as if he owned the space. “Run to the edge like it didn’t mean something.”
“I’m literally just trying to keep your body heat from ruining my life,” I muttered, half-joking.
“Too late for that,” he replied with a smirk.
With a resigned sigh, I allowed him to draw closer, turning my back to him. His arm wrapped possessively around my waist almost instantly.
“Roman-“
“Shh. Just sleep,” he murmured, his grip firm and reassuring.
He pulled me gently against him, the warmth of his body seeping into mine. The familiar scent of my shampoo lingered on his skin, creating an intoxicating blend of comfort and desire.
I stiffened as I felt him, hard and pressing against me. His breath was warm against my ear as he nestled into the curve of my neck.
Then came the kiss. It was soft, lingering, starting at the base of my neck and trailing down to my shoulder.
Panic surged within me, uncertainty gnawing at my thoughts.
“Roman…” My voice came out almost like a moan, betraying my vulnerability.
“Relax,” he whispered, his tone soothing. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”
I loathed how my body reacted, how safe I felt in that moment, and I despised that my voice faltered as I whispered, “Would you want to… fuck me again?”
He paused, the stillness of his breath creating a tense silence that enveloped us.
“Yes,” he finally replied, his lips brushing against my skin once more. “But only if you want me to.”
And God help me, I did.
As dawn broke, I lay in bed, feigning slumber, though the truth was far more complicated. The reason for my charade? A massive, plush teddy bear nestled against my back, holding me close as if he had no intention of ever letting go. Roman was wide awake, I could sense it in the rhythm of his breath-slow, steady, and deliberate.
How was I supposed to face him after the audacious question I had posed the night before? The weight of that moment hung heavily in the air, and I felt an inexplicable mix of anxiety and anticipation.
“I know you’re awake,” he murmured, his warm breath grazing my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
I fought the instinct to flinch at his closeness. Instead, I kept my body perfectly still, my breathing soft and measured, as if I were still lost in a dream.
A low, dangerous chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against my back and igniting a thousand tiny sparks across my skin.
“So that’s how you want to play it?” His voice dripped with playful heat. “Then let the game begin, love.”
My heart raced, and I instinctively gripped the mattress, bracing myself for whatever was to come. But to my surprise, he remained motionless, just holding me-close, warm, and intoxicatingly safe.
Time stretched out in those moments. A few seconds turned into a full minute, and still, he simply cradled me, his presence a comforting weight against my back. Just as I began to relax, his hand glided over my chest, settling gently on one breast, a touch both tender and possessive.
His fingers moved slowly, deliberately, as if he were savoring every moment, gauging my reaction, waiting for me to flinch or gasp. But I held my ground.
Yet, when his thumb brushed over my nipple with a lazy caress, I felt my body betray me, a wave of heat pooling at my core, my toes curling instinctively into the sheets.
Still, I fought to maintain my facade, my breath shaky yet controlled, as if I were still lost in the depths of sleep.
“Still asleep, love?” he teased, his laughter low and dark, filled with amusement. He was fully aware of the effect he had on me.
He kneaded me gently, his large palm enveloping my breast with a slow, deliberate pressure. There was no rush, no frantic urgency-just a possessive claiming, as if he had all the time in the world to memorize the way I felt beneath his touch.
I remained frozen, unable to move, caught in the web of his seduction.
Roman chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Guess I’ll take that as a yes.”
My breath hitched involuntarily, and I cursed myself for the way my body was responding, still pretending to be asleep, barely managing to keep up the act.
Then, oh God, his hand slipped lower, past my stomach, beneath the waistband of my sleep shorts, and below my lace panties.
His fingers found the heat-wet heat.
For a moment, he froze, and then a sound escaped him, smug and wickedly male, that nearly shattered my resolve.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.