Chapter Six

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Ugh," I groan, reaching toward the bedside table and my phone. My head throbs, and my mouth is completely dry. My stomach roils as I strain to silence the sound coming from my cell way too fucking loudly. My hand lands on the phone, and I pull it toward me, cracking my eyes open to look at the time. It"s after ten in the morning.

Why is it still dark?

I frown, moving my gaze around the room. I"m definitely still in the guestroom at the condo. The teakwood dresser stands against the far wall, and my stuff is scattered all over the place. But the blinds are all shut tight, blocking out the sunlight that usually floods the room in the mornings. I"ve been here for almost a week, and I"ve never closed them. I love the feeling of the sun on my face when I wake up.

"What the hell?" I mumble, trying to remember anything.

Brief flashes trickle through the haze in my mind. I remember waiting for Roman to come home. I remember drinking wine. I grimace when my stomach roils again. Okay, I remember drinking a lot of wine.

I want you to fuck me, Roman.

"Oh my God," I whisper, squeezing my eyes closed. I told him I want to spend the next two weeks with him. He didn"t say no, but he didn"t say yes either. He kissed me. No. That"s not quite right. I asked him to kiss me, after practically throwing myself at him.

He tasted like mint. His lips were hard against mine and then soft, back and forth, until I thought I was going to combust right there. He kissed me like he meant it. Like he wanted to eat me alive.

And then he pulled away and…

And what?

The last thing I remember is listening to the steady thrum of his heart beneath my ear.

He must have carried me to bed.

I lift the covers to find that my shorts are gone. I"m in a t-shirt and my panties. My cheeks burn in mortification at the thought of him having to undress and pour me into bed.

I"m never drinking again.

Taking a deep breath, I look back at my phone to see that I"ve missed two calls: one from Tahani and another from a number I don"t recognize. Whoever it was didn"t leave a voicemail, and neither did Tahani.

I groan and drop the phone onto the comforter, staring up at the ceiling. No part of me wants to get out of the bed and face Roman. I"m mortified that I got so drunk he had to take care of me. I never drink that much. I don"t regret what I said to him, though. I meant every word…I just intended to be more or less sober when I said them.

He probably thinks I"m insane.

"Suck it up," I mutter to myself after wallowing in self-pity for a brief moment. I toss the covers back and sit up. My head spins and pounds before the pain fades into a dull throb. It"s not great, but it"s tolerable. Using the bedside table, I pull myself to my feet, praying I don"t throw up all over the place.

When I"m sure my stomach isn"t going to rebel, I stumble to the bathroom. My heart flutters when I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a mass of wild tangles and looks awful. My skin is flushed, and there"s a crease on my left cheek from the pillow. My eyes are dark underneath like I didn"t get enough sleep. I look like shit, but that"s not what pulls me up short. My lips do. They"re puffy and swollen. I run my fingers over them, remembering the way Roman"s mouth felt against mine.

I"ve never been kissed like that before. He made me feel like he couldn"t get enough of my mouth. Damien never made me feel that way. Not once. Kissing him never set me ablaze, either. But I went up like a freaking forest fire in Roman"s arms.

Forcing the memory of that kiss from my mind, I grab the Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet, shake three out into my hand, and then swallow them down with a glass of water. Once that"s done, I turn on the massive all-glass shower to heat up the water, brush my teeth, and take care of business. Stripping down, I drop my shirt and panties into the laundry basket and then step into the shower.

I let the hot water beat down on me for a long time, letting it ease away the worst of my hangover. When I feel more or less human again, I quickly wash up and get out. As much as I"d like to avoid Roman, I know I can"t. I owe him an apology for throwing myself at him like I did and for forcing him to take care of me. And then…and then I don"t know what happens.

By the time I convince myself to go downstairs to face him, it"s almost noon, and my hangover is pretty much gone. I find him standing in the kitchen, staring out at the beach.

My steps slow and then halt when I see him. He"s shirtless with bare feet, nothing but a pair of gray sweats on his body. They sit so low on his hips; my gaze is drawn to the little dips in his back, right above his ass. And that ass…good grief. He"s got a great ass.

His body is honestly breathtaking. So is the art littering his skin. A massive eagle is etched into his upper back, its wings spread wide across his shoulder blades. Every time he breathes, it looks as if the eagle moves its massive wings, soaring across his back. Damn near every inch of him is covered in ink just as breathtaking as the eagle. His body is hard everywhere, like he really was sculpted from rock. He looks like a powerful, fierce warrior.

I shiver at the memory of having all that power, all that man, wrapped around me.

"Hey." I blush when he turns around and catches me staring at him.

His eyes rake across me, his expression indecipherable. I want to shift under the intensity of his gaze. It"s like he"s stripping me down to skin and bone.

Eventually, he reaches behind him and then holds a coffee cup out to me, still not saying anything.

"Thanks." I bring the mug to my lips, close my eyes, and breathe in the rich scent. I love coffee. I love the way it smells, I love the way it tastes, I love the way it burns its way down my throat, and I especially love the jolt of caffeine it delivers into my system. I"m addicted.

"Jesus," he mutters.

My eyes spring open to find him staring at me, watching me with those piercing, bright hazel eyes of his. Once again, he looks like he wants to devour me.

I blush at the thought and then stand a little straighter, ready to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. I"ve never been a big fan of dragging things out. I prefer to deal with issues head-on.

"So I"m sorry about last night," I say, holding his gaze, refusing to fidget under its weight. My hand trembles, so I quickly set my coffee cup on the counter and cross my arms. "I never drink that much. I, um, I"m sorry I passed out, and you had to take care of me."

He frowns at me, something shifting through his gaze so quickly that I can"t make it out. He looks…I"m not sure. It"s like I"ve thrown him off balance again, and he suddenly isn"t sure what to expect from me. That little flash of uncertainty gives me the courage I need to finish what I have to say.

"I should probably also apologize for going into your room yesterday. It wasn"t fair of me to invade your privacy like that. You had your door closed for a reason, and I should have respected that."

He stares at me but doesn"t say anything. He does that a lot. Just watches me. Ever since I first met him, he"s watched me like he can"t look away. He looks at me like he knows me inside and out and still hasn"t decided what to do about me. It"s unnerving and hot at the same damn time, and I have no clue what it means.

"You said you should apologize," he finally says.

"Hmm?"

"You said you should apologize." He tips his coffee cup up to his lips and takes a sip, watching me over the rim. Those hazel eyes rove across my face, not missing anything. "You didn"t say you are sorry."

"Oh." I wander toward the fridge, grimacing when my foot throbs.

"Is your foot still bothering you?"

"It"s okay," I say, giving him a partial truth. It"s not too bad, but it feels worse this morning than yesterday. I think it may be getting infected. That"s probably my fault for walking around barefoot all the time, but I like the feel of the floor beneath my feet. I love buying shoes, but I"m not big on actually wearing them.

I squeak when I"m suddenly lifted off my feet. My hands go to Roman"s shoulders, clutching as he swings me up into his arms like I don"t weigh anything. He doesn"t seem to notice my weight at all, actually. It"s honestly kind of hot. Damien was tall and lanky, and he never picked me up. I always felt a little out of place next to him. Or maybe he made me feel out of place beside him. I"m not sure, but Roman doesn"t make me feel that way.

He turns and plops me down on the island. The marble is cold beneath me, and my thin shorts don"t offer much protection. The chill fades quickly when he runs his hand down my bare leg, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. A different kind of shiver rolls through me, and then he"s propping my foot up to examine it, a furrow between his brows. I fight the urge to reach out and smooth that little wrinkle with my fingers.

"You need to keep this bandaged. It"s infected." His fingertip runs across my instep, and then he turns away.

He"s back in seconds, the first aid kit in his hands. He pops it open and rummages through, setting aside various items before he finds what he"s after. I open my mouth to tell him that I"m fine, but he glares at me before I can form the first syllable, so I shut up and sit patiently.

He cleans the cut with gentle hands, swabs ointment onto it, and then wraps a bandage around my foot.

"Thanks," I whisper when he"s finished.

I expect him to let me go, but he doesn"t. He looks up at me, his big hand still wrapped around my ankle. He"s so close I can see little flecks of gold in his eyes and smell the coffee and minty toothpaste on his breath. I swallow hard at the heat in his gaze.

"You said you should apologize," he repeats his earlier comment now that he"s done doctoring me up. "Are you sorry?"

"No," I whisper, unable to lie to him. Maybe I should be sorry for invading his privacy or throwing myself at him, but honestly, I think I"d do the same thing all over again. I want him, and I know he wants me, too. Taking big risks and putting myself out there has never really been my thing, but I want to take one this time.

He slides his hand up my calf.

"Are you sorry?" I ask, my gaze locked on the play of emotions across his face. They swirl through his eyes so quickly that I"m not sure where his head is at…what he"s thinking…, or what he wants.

"No." His hand lands against my inner thigh, making me jump. "Easy, baby," he murmurs, placing himself between my spread legs.

"You apologized yesterday," I remind him, trying to ignore the way my stomach flips at the word baby. I love it when he calls me that.

"I lied." His mouth lands against my ear, his breath hot and heavy. "I"m not sorry for a fucking thing, Mila." His teeth clamp down around my earlobe. The sting sends a bolt straight to my clit. "You offered me two weeks," he says against my skin. "Did you mean it?"

"Y-yes."

He nips at my earlobe again like he"s rewarding me for answering him. His hands skim across my thighs and then around to my hips. He grips me hard, holding me in place.

"I hope you"re ready for me, sweetheart," he whispers. "It"s too late to back out now."

Oh my–

Before I can finish that thought, his mouth is on my neck, his tongue against my skin.

A moan rolls from my lips, my fingers clamping down on his shoulders. He grunts as if he likes the feel of my nails digging into his skin. I like it too. His body is rock solid muscle under smooth skin. He"s hard and warm, overwhelming me as he cages me in beneath him, trapping me on top of the island.

"You taste sweet," he murmurs against my neck, still exploring my skin with his tongue. One big hand grips my hip hard to hold me steady, the other strokes up and down my outer thigh, his fingertips teasing against the leg of my shorts.

My body coils tight, anticipating the feel of his hands on my bare skin again, but he doesn"t give it to me. Not right away. He teases me first, never moving below the hem of my shorts or above my hip. I writhe beneath him anyway, trying to get some part of him closer to where I need him. He"s barely even started, and I"m already soaked. My clit aches and pulses like it knows exactly what he"s going to do to me.

"Roman," I groan, turning my head until his mouth meets mine.

He tastes like he smells—like spice, mint, and heat with a hint of coffee. His tongue touches mine. He"s teasing there, too, giving me just a little but not enough—not what I want.

"I want you," I tell him.

"I know." He bites my bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth.

The little sting fades to pleasure in the space of a heartbeat. His body comes down on mine. He"s so big. God, he"s huge. I feel tiny underneath him as the island groans like it might not hold up our combined weight. If he notices, he doesn"t seem to care.

He breaks away from my lips, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down my throat. His stubble scrapes my skin, leaving behind an itch to let me know where he"s been. My hands slip from his shoulders and down his back. I"m not gentle about it either. I scratch and claw.

"Goddamn," he growls in pleasure, bucking his hips into me. His erection presses against my inner thigh. His mouth lands against my right breast.

I cry out when he bites me, sucking my nipple into his mouth through my shirt and bra. The sensation sends another sharp pulse to my clit, like it"s connected directly to my nipples. I"ve never felt that before. My breasts have never been particularly sensitive. I guess they are for him.

He rears back and shoves my shirt up my body. I don"t get a chance to help him before he rips it over my head and flings it away from me. He pauses for a moment, looking down at me. His eyes are blazing, and I know he likes what he sees.

"Jesus Christ, Mila," he breathes, biting his lip like he isn"t sure where he wants to start. And then he"s on me again, yanking the cups of my bra down. Before I even feel the air against my overheated skin, he"s right there. He pushes my breasts together and buries his face in them with a soft groan. "Your tits are fucking perfect," he says.

I don"t get a chance to respond before he latches on, pulling one nipple into his mouth while his rough hand kneads the other. My hand plays through his hair, holding him to me, pulling, scratching…anything to get him to keep doing what he"s doing to me.

The sensations buffeting my body are so strong I think I"m going to come apart at the seams. He hasn"t even gotten me completely naked, and I"m already on the verge of an orgasm. He"s a force of nature raging against me. I"ve never felt anything like him before.

"Take your shorts off," he barks, jerking backward when I try to wrap my legs around his waist. It"s like he knows I"m right there, and he isn"t going to give it to me. He"s playing with me. Punishing me. He isn"t going to let me come until he wants to let me.

That knowledge shouldn"t make me as hot as it does, but it does anyway.

My hands shake as I fumble to undo the button on my shorts. He doesn"t offer to help me. He just watches me, his gaze riveted to my body like he"s got all day to wait. It takes me a minute, but I finally undo the button and jerk the shorts down before kicking them off.

"Now, your panties."

Jesus, that voice. It"s hard and demanding, making it clear that he"s the one in charge here.

I consider denying his request simply because I think he likes being challenged, but I don"t particularly want to deny him anything at the moment.

Deciding to obey him, I hitch my fingers into the sides of my panties and pull them down. Part of me wants to clamp my legs together to hide myself from his gaze. Part of me thinks that"s what I should do, what I"m supposed to do. Some tiny part of me thinks I should be ashamed of my body—I"m too curvy, too thick—but I"m not ashamed. Not with him.

I let my legs fall open, allowing him to look at me.

"Goddamn, baby." The tip of his tongue darts out to play along his bottom lip like he"s trying to taste me on him already. The look in his eyes makes it clear that he likes what he sees. No, he fucking loves what he sees.

I"m so turned on I can"t help but wriggle against the marble beneath my back. I want him on me, in me. I want him everywhere, and I don"t want to wait.

"I knew you"d be soaked for me," he mutters, his gaze flicking up to my face. His eyes lock on mine. "I need you to be honest with me right now, baby. How far have you gone before now?"

"N-not far."

"Oral?"

I shake my head no. "Heavy makeout sessions, mostly. Grinding. Um, he got off a few times that way."

"You never did?"

"He wasn"t very good at it," I say with a shrug and then swallow. "I"ve never been naked with anyone."

"Good," he practically purrs as if this admission satisfies the hell out of him. "That little prick didn"t deserve to look at this perfect body. He damn sure didn"t deserve to put his filthy hands on you. But I"m not him. When you"re with me, you"re going to learn exactly how fucking good you"re supposed to feel."

I lick my lips, nodding. I have a feeling he"s going to teach me things that will knock my world out of orbit.

"Touch your pussy for me, Mila."

I shouldn"t. I shouldn"t be ready to orgasm at the thought of him watching me get myself off, but I am. If this is how the next two weeks start, I"m all in.

My hand trembles as I slide it down my body, over my stomach and hips. I tease him for a minute, letting my hand get so close before I move on across my inner thigh and then up my hip.

He grits his teeth as he watches me, clenching his hands into fists. He rocks forward on the balls of his feet like he"s about to lunge at me and make me obey.

"Fucking do it," he snarls, breathing hard.

I give him what he wants this time.

"Oh God," I moan, sliding my fingers across my clit. I"m so wet my hand slips. I"ve never been this soaked in my life. Not even when I watched him jerk himself off and talk dirty to me. I stroke my clit, opening my legs wider.

He watches me like he can"t look away. His gaze is locked on my pussy, his tongue playing across his bottom lip again. His chest rises and falls in a hard, steady rhythm like he just ran a race.

"Roman, I"m going to come."

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, he"s on me. His mouth lands against my center, his hands against my thighs, shoving my legs far enough apart for him to fit between them. He isn"t slow. He eats me exactly like I imagined he would. Like he can"t get enough. He"s rough and wild, digging his hands into my hips so hard I know I"m going to feel him there tomorrow.

And it"s freaking perfect.

Holy crap. That fucking mouth is a deadly weapon.

"Oh God!" I cry out as an orgasm rips through me so fast it knocks me breathless. A thousand explosions ignite inside me, striking all at once. They rip through my veins like fire, melting me into nothing but pleasure and sensation. I try to push him off. It"s too much. Way too much.

"No," he snarls against my pussy, releasing my hips to still my hands. He holds them down, containing them, caging me in. He doesn"t stop what he"s doing. He devours me, his filthy sounds and mine ringing in my ears as he gorges himself on me.

He doesn"t stop until he"s satisfied. Until I"m begging because I can"t take any more.

My body goes limp against the countertop as he jerks away from me. My juices are all over him, practically dripping down his chin onto his chest. It"s so fucking hot, I moan loudly.

"Are you on birth control?" he asks, jerking down his sweats.

I try to say yes, I take it to regulate my cycle, but I"m not sure if my mouth actually opens or not. All I can focus on is the sight of his cock. He"s so hard, so thick. He"s going to tear me in two. Pre-cum drips from the tip as he wraps a hand around himself and squeezes like he"s trying to keep himself from coming.

Either he hears me, or he"s too far gone to care because he stalks toward me. One hand slides around my hip. The other slides between my breasts and then up to my throat. He holds me tightly, lifting my head up and making me watch him.

"I don"t want to hurt you, but I don"t know if I can be gentle. I still taste you," he growls. "I don"t know how to be soft and sweet and all the shit you deserve for your first time."

My heart flutters that he"s even thought about what I deserve for my first time. "I didn"t ask for soft and sweet, Roman. I asked for you to fuck me. You won"t hurt me. I"m not breakable. Besides, I"ve used toys before."

I may be a virgin, but I"m not a prude. A girl has needs. And I"ve had a whole lot of them since meeting this man. My hymen is long gone.

His eyes glitter with lust. "Often?"

"Yes."

"Did you think about me when you used them, Mila?"

"Y-yes," I whisper, not lying. Maybe I should, but we"re past that now.

My confession pushes him over the edge.

In all the porn I"ve ever watched, most guys take it slow on that first thrust. They ease in, letting you get used to the feel of them. Not Roman. He thrusts in hard, not stopping until the tip of his cock hits my cervix, and he"s buried balls deep. Then and only then does he pause, letting me adjust to the feel of him inside me. His head kicks back, a loud growl of pleasure ripping from his lips.

He"s so big that he brings tears to my eyes. Pain and pleasure twine so tightly together that I can"t tell where one ends and the other begins. It feels so good. So fucking good.

I think I say that out loud, chanting it over and over as I writhe beneath him, lost in an ocean of ecstasy.

Had I known it"d be like this, I"d have thrown myself at him years ago, and damn the consequences.

And then he"s moving again, fucking me so hard the island rattles beneath me. He leans forward, his mouth landing against mine. I expect him to kiss me hard, but he"s sweet and gentle. His kiss is so at odds with the way he"s fucking me. He takes me like he hates me, knocking me breathless over and over again. He"s hard and rough and exactly how I always knew he would be.

I love every minute of it.

"Four fucking years, Mila," he growls against my lips. "Four fucking years, I"ve thought about taking you like this." He lifts my leg, hitching it around his hip. The change in position lets him slide in even deeper.

My nails claw across his back as I writhe and contort beneath him. I"m lost in him, as out of control and wild as he is, taking everything he gives me and demanding more, more, more. His teeth find my throat. His hand finds my nipple. He"s all over me as he bites me, fucks me, and plays with my body like he owns it. And it"s too much.

"Say it," he snarls when my inner muscles start to clamp down on him.

"Roman," I cry out, clawing again, trying to push him away and pull him closer at the same time.

"Say it," he says again, and I know that"s not what he wants to hear. Not this time.

So I say it. I scream it so loudly my throat hurts.

"Mr. Gregory."

"Mila," he roars, holding me down as he comes, his fingers digging into my hips and his mouth against my throat.

Another orgasm slams into me, hitting me so hard I think I"m going to explode into tiny pieces. I forget to breathe, forget I even know how to breathe as it rips me savagely apart while he spills into me, filling me full of him and of what we just did.