CHAPTER TWELVE
MILA DIDN’T EXACTLY jump at his offer, and that’s when Roman noticed that she looked a little shaky. He was shaky, too, but he was hoping the beer could help with that. Mila, as well.
“We’re going to have sex?” she asked. Not in a heated “I want you right now” kind of way. There was something in her voice that hadn’t been there at the ranch.
Doubt.
That was good. Roman had wanted to think and rethink this until she either pulled the off switch or jumped him. Whichever way she went, he just wanted her to be sure.
Mila glanced around the store. “Where’s Janeen?”
“She just left a few seconds before you walked in. I’ve only been here a couple of minutes myself. I told her I’d wait here for you and that she could go. She’s got a hot date.”
Mila nodded. “Thanks.” She locked the door, turned the closed sign around and made her way to him. She didn’t sit next to him but rather across from him, and she helped herself to one of the beers. “How’s Tate?”
Roman had been mulling that over in his head, and despite Garrett’s insistence about him drinking, the beer wasn’t helping. “He wants to stay at the ranch even after what happened.”
He thought maybe the breath Mila took was one of relief. “I guess that means you worked things out with your mother.” She paused. “Or did you evict her?”
“I considered eviction,” he admitted. “Dismissed it. Then got pissed about considering it and dismissing it. My relationship with my mother is complicated.”
She smiled a little. “I think we can both say that. I’m glad you didn’t kick Belle out. You would have regretted it, especially since you plan on leaving in a few weeks.” Mila looked at him. “That is still the plan, isn’t it?”
He nodded. At the end of the school year, he wouldn’t ask Tate to pack—Roman would insist on it.
Mila took a tiny sip of her beer, made a face. Obviously, she wasn’t going to be able to get drunk on that. Not that he especially wanted her drunk. He didn’t want to be in that state, either, since he had to leave on a business trip first thing in the morning.
“I drove Arwen home,” Mila continued. “She has a complicated relationship with her family, too.”
So, maybe that’s what had caused Mila to look shaky. Then he remembered her list. Yeah. Waylon didn’t look to be the sort who’d be thrilled about the town finding out he’d made a baby with Vita. From the sound of it, Waylon also wasn’t being a good stepfather to Arwen.
“Is Arwen trying to help Tate or is she a screw-up?” he asked. “And no, I’m not judging her if it’s the latter since I had that label when I was her age.”
Hell, in his mother’s eyes, he still had it.
“I think Arwen’s trying to help,” Mila answered. “She’s gone through something similar, and it appears she’s found a way to cope.”
Roman hadn’t come here expecting that. He’d thought, at best, that Arwen was just looking for sex. But maybe that’s because Roman had had sex on the mind lately.
Like now.
While he was looking at Mila.
He started to bring up her sex offer, but there was something else he needed to get out of the way first. “I talked to Billy Lee, and he did sleep with Vita.”
Judging from the strangled sound of surprise Mila made, he should have eased into that a little better.
“Billy Lee doesn’t know for sure if you’re his daughter or not,” Roman went on, “but he agreed to take a paternity test. He said he’d get the kit right away.” Mila was breathing too fast now. So fast that Roman put his beer aside and went to her. He stooped down, looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to know.”
“I do,” she quickly assured him. “I just hadn’t expected him to say it could be him. God, it could be him. I mean, what are the odds that Vita would have slept with two men around the same time?”
This time, Roman took a moment to try to figure out how to say this. He didn’t want any other shaky looks from Mila and no more of those startled gasps. But even after giving it some thought, Roman didn’t know how to make this sound better.
“Billy Lee said a lot of men thought Vita was attractive when she was in her twenties,” he settled for saying.
“She was. I’ve seen pictures of her, and she was beautiful. She just didn’t age well—” Mila stopped. “The odds might be pretty high that my mom slept with more than one man. Is that what Billy Lee meant?”
Shit. He’d stepped in it, and now he might get Mila riled at Billy Lee. Definitely not something he wanted since the man could turn out to be her father.
“I’m not sure what he meant,” Roman lied. It was one of those little white lies to fix the shit he’d stepped in. He hoped it did, anyway. “But just put that all aside for now and focus on Billy Lee. He’ll take the paternity test, but you’ll need to take one, too, so your DNA can be compared to his.” He took the kit from the bag next to the beer and handed it to her. “I bought this for you at the pharmacy.”
She took it, glanced at the label. “You’ve been busy.”
“It was just one aisle over from the beer. Of course, the clerk will tell folks that I bought it, but no one’s going to consider it juicy gossip or much of a surprise if I buy a paternity test.” He motioned toward it. “There’s a second kit in the bag for Billy Lee, but I can take it to him if he hasn’t bought one already. You won’t have to see him unless you want to.”
“I don’t want to see him yet.” Mila took the kit and opened it. “Was he...upset?”
“No. Not really.” And if he had been, Roman would have chewed his ass out and given him a safe-sex lecture that would have fallen into the “day late, dollar short” category. It was a lecture Roman had gotten plenty of times from his folks after he’d gotten Valerie pregnant. “He was surprised more than anything.”
Mila made a sound of agreement. She knew a little about feeling surprised over this, as well. Of course, until today Mila hadn’t even known that Billy Lee could be her father whereas Billy Lee had known it was at least a possibility.
She used the swab on the inside of her cheek, slipped it back in the little plastic case and handed it to him.
Roman put it away in the shopping bag. He’d get it to Billy Lee before he went in for his business meetings in San Antonio.
“One more thing,” Roman continued. Best to clear the air before he clouded it with more sex talk. “Billy Lee told me that Lucian put the lawsuit on hold. He seemed to think you had something to do with that.”
She lifted her shoulder. “I asked Dylan to talk to him. Didn’t figure he would, but yes, Billy Lee mentioned things had worked out that way.”
For now they had. That didn’t mean Lucian wouldn’t change his mind down the road. “I don’t want you to feel you have to run interference for me with my cousins.”
“I don’t feel that way.” She huffed and had another sip of beer. Made another face. And her attention slid from his face to his crotch.
Wait.
Not his crotch.
His side.
“Have you healed?” she asked.
He eyed her with some suspicion. “That sounds like a sex question.”
“It is.”
Roman certainly hadn’t expected her to jump right into this, but then again she’d been the one who’d first brought it up at the ranch.
“I’m healed,” he admitted. That was more or less true. “But I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Oh, it’s not.” She laughed. Not a full-out laugh. It was low and a little sultry. If warm brandy could laugh, that’s how it would sound.
Roman tried to push aside the effects of that sultriness and make his point. “Most people don’t jump into something if they know it’s a mistake.”
“Sure they do. Well, many people do, anyway. I’ve spent most of my life trying to avoid mistakes, trying not to be like those other women who took you to their beds. I’ve missed out. They didn’t.”
Roman frowned because she made it sound as if he were some kind of guy who had sex with any woman he met. He didn’t. But he hadn’t exactly qualified for monk status, either.
He geared up to try one more time to talk her out of this or at least have her rethink it, but Mila reached out and put her hand around the back of his neck. Maybe she hadn’t remembered that she was still holding a cold bottle of beer. Emphasis on cold. He made a sound of surprise, or rather he tried to do that, but it got muffled because she put her mouth on his and kissed him.
For days now, he’d been dreaming about kissing Mila. Not one of those friendly pecks, either. A real, full-blown kiss.
And he got it, all right.
Mila might not have experience when it came to sex, but she sure had the kissing down pat. Even with the cold bottle on his neck, Roman felt the heat go from his mouth straight to his groin.
That was the sign of a good kiss.
She wasn’t tentative and she tasted like sin. Not necessarily a good combination for a man who was still trying to figure out how to talk her out of this. Now, thanks to that kiss, he had to talk himself out of it, as well.
With her eyes half-closed and a dreamy look on her face, Mila eased back, gulped in a breath. Finally, he thought. She was going to rethink this.
Or not.
Apparently, that break was just for air because she moved to the edge of the chair. Her grip tightened around the back of his neck, she dragged him closer and she ran her tongue over his bottom lip. When she came back for seconds, she proved that she understood the subtleties of French kissing.
Even with all that, Roman managed to hold back and keep his senses. Hard to do when she continued the dragging. The motion pulled him forward so that he landed on his knees right between her legs.
And she just kept on kissing him.
Kissing, tugging and adjusting their positions as if she was ready to have sex with him right then, right there.
“I knew you would be good at this,” she whispered against his mouth.
He wasn’t doing it. She was. And she was good at it. Of course, that got him thinking that maybe that was so because he suddenly wanted her more than his next breath. That’s why Roman was the one to up the ante. He took hold of her, hauling her against him.
Not the brightest idea he’d ever had.
She tumbled out of the chair, and without breaking the kiss, she kept tumbling, and the impact of her body against his sent them both to the floor. Bottles clanged. Beer spilled, and he hit his head against the leg of a coffee table.
And then there was his side.
Mila’s knee landed there, and while it wasn’t exactly a screaming-out kind of pain, it did hurt and made him rethink if he was physically ready for this. If Mila had been any other woman, he would have said yes. That she could just be on top. But she probably hadn’t planned on having to do all the work on the day she lost her virginity.
That last word flashed in his head.
A reminder of what was at stake here. There was that whole thing about heartbreak and commitment. Things that he was certain he didn’t want, and he would have told her that, too, if she hadn’t kissed him again.
She rolled partially off him, still pinning him to the floor with her upper body while the kissing raged on. Mila adjusted, moving her knee until it was between his legs. Right against his dick. Probably not the best place for it, but it wasn’t the worst, either. At least it wasn’t on his incision.
“Breathe,” she whispered. At first he thought she was talking to him, but he was breathing. She was the one who was struggling with her air intake.
Roman did something about that. He kicked the beer bottles aside and eased her off him and onto her back. He didn’t kiss her mouth. He left that part of her alone for now so she could fix that oxygen issue, and he went after her neck. She clearly liked that because she made a sound of pleasure and stopped grappling for position.
Good.
Less grappling meant less possibility of him getting kicked.
That didn’t stop her hands, though. They were all over his chest, and she was trying to unbutton his shirt. He figured once she got that done, she’d attempt to unzip him next.
That couldn’t happen.
His dick really hated this idea, but Roman knew this couldn’t lead to full-blown sex. However, it could lead to something. Something that would hopefully be a lot more pleasurable for Mila than it would be for him.
First things first, he checked their position, and he did that without breaking the kiss. In fact, he made some progress with that by going lower. He shoved up her shirt and kissed the top of her left breast while he checked the window from the corner of his eye. Anyone walking by would really have to be looking to see them, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
Roman started rolling with her.
He rolled over the beer bottles, one of them digging into his back, the other his butt. Or maybe that was Mila’s hand. She’d apparently gone lower, as well, and was trying to slide her hand into the back of his jeans.
Roman let her keep doing that since it was better than a hand-slide to the front of his jeans, and he rolled a few more times, this time through the spilled beer and across the small carpeted area until they were on the other side of the sofa. Now, they had some privacy. Of course, her office would give them even more of that, but judging from the urgency of Mila’s sounds and gropings, he didn’t have that kind of time.
“I have a condom,” she said.
So did he, but he wasn’t going to need it. He hoped. He just needed to hang on to his willpower and remember that the stakes were sky-high here. After he’d taken the edge off Mila’s need, she might remember that, too, and be thankful they had left their condoms in their wrappers.
Roman levered himself up, pushed down her bra and did some kissing to please himself. Of course, all of this was pleasing to him, but her breasts were especially nice. For one thing, they were real, which meant they were soft. Small. Perfect. Roman kissed them for a while, taking her nipples into his mouth until she started pinching him.
Not to get him to stop, he realized.
She was pinching his arm and leg because she was trying to pull him on top of her. A place he wanted to be, badly. Like small natural breasts, he liked missionary position, too. But there’d be no missionary-ing in his position today.
He unzipped her jeans. She cooperated with that, even lifting her hips to help. Probably because she thought this was going to lead to sex. And it would. Just maybe not the kind of sex she’d envisioned. It sure as hell wasn’t the sex he’d envisioned, either, but it was going to have to do.
While he rid her of her panties—which were white lace and barely there—Roman kept kissing her, kept making his way down. To her lower stomach. Then to her thigh. She clearly hadn’t given up on him being inside her because she was tugging at him. Roman fixed that.
He pushed her legs apart and gave her a kiss she wasn’t likely to forget any time soon. He sure as hell wouldn’t. The taste of her gave him the erection from hell. He was so going to pay for this.
But it was so going to be worth it.
She continued to struggle until her struggle-to-moans-of-pleasure ratio was where he wanted it to be. That’s when he nipped her with his teeth.
That moan was very loud.
And she stopped struggling. However, she did grab on to his hair, hard, and she anchored him there right between her legs. Not that he had plans to go anywhere, but Roman appreciated the enthusiastic help.
Her moans stopped. She tensed, and she plowed her fingers all the way to his scalp. That might have had something to do with Roman using his own fingers to go along with his mouth. It must have been the right combination.
Because Mila had herself a big, moaning climax.
* * *
THERE WERE LITTLE gold sparkles behind her eyes. Sparkles in her mouth, too. In fact, Mila thought she might be sparkling all over.
Her body was slack. Every muscle felt puddled on the floor along with the spilled beer, and there was only one thought going through her head.
Amazing.
Simply amazing.
It wasn’t her first orgasm, of course. That had come during a rare make-out session with Tommy Tucker back in tenth grade. She’d dated him long enough for them to have some pretty serious kissing bouts, and one time they’d bumped and grinded against each other enough to finish them both off.
This one with Roman was much, much better.
That probably had everything to do with the fact that Roman had been on the giving end of it. He hadn’t done any receiving, though.
Roman made his way back up her body, kissing her along the way, but instead of unzipping his jeans and getting started with his own “receiving,” he pulled her into his arms to cuddle. One where she was naked from the waist down and her butt was on the beer-soaked rug. Since it seemed as if the cuddling was just getting started, Mila decided to say something to keep moving this along in a sexual direction.
“I know how to put a condom on a man using only my mouth. Sophie and I saw it in a magazine, and we practiced on bananas.”
As expected, that got Roman’s attention. He lifted his head, looked at her, and because his secret man place was against her leg, she felt him harden even more than he already was.
“That was an offer by the way,” she added.
He nodded, eased a couple of inches away from her. “Yeah, I got that. And while it’s a damn good offer, it’s one I’m going to have to turn down. Sorry.”
Well, there went her gold sparkles. Mila sat up, stared at him, and she was certain she was frowning. “When we were talking at the ranch, I offered you sex, not half-sex. I figured if you came here, you must have thought that was a good idea.”
Another nod. “It was. I wanted to be with you. Want to be with you,” he amended. “But I don’t want to fuck up your life.”
Too late. Well, her life had changed, anyway. Mila didn’t see that as particularly bad in a screw-up kind of way. She’d been waiting to get naked with Roman for years, and she’d finally accomplished it. She should have amended that fantasy, though, to include his nakedness, as well. And real sex that involved a condom and him inside her.
“Is this about that three-times rule?” she asked.
He kissed her, picked up her panties and jeans and proceeded to dress her. “It’s about you. I want to give you some time to think this through. I don’t want you hurt.”
It was about that rule. He wasn’t going to budge on that, and Mila wasn’t even sure he wanted to budge. Roman did this sort of thing all the time. Clearly, he had plenty of experience with it, and maybe he just intended to keep on doing it.
With a string of women who would come after her.
If she’d had any sparkles left, that would have dissolved them. A dose of reality came in their place, and it definitely didn’t shine. It made her feel, well, naked and exposed.
Roman was right. She did need to think this through, and it took all of two seconds for Mila to push away that exposed feeling and realize something.
“I’d rather have temporary with you than permanent with someone I would just be settling for,” she said.
There. She thought that might relax his tense forehead, that it might stop him from shimmying on her jeans.
It didn’t.
He kept shimmying. “You deserve better than temporary. You deserve better than me.”
There was nothing better than Roman. He wouldn’t see that, of course. In many ways, he was still that hurt little boy who felt betrayed by his parents.
“I should go,” he said when he finished dressing her. “I need to check on Tate.”
That wasn’t total lip service coming from him, either. After what’d happened with Belle, Roman did indeed need to make sure all was well. Garrett would keep an eye on Tate, but like the offer she’d just made to Roman, that was temporary. The boy needed his dad.
Roman stood, pulled her to her feet and kissed her again. It might have stayed short and sweet, some post-partial-sex gesture. But Mila slipped her arm around his waist and kissed him the right way. The way that he would know there could be more if he wanted it.
He moved into the kiss, then moved away from her. He groaned and cursed. “What the hell am I going to do with you?” he grumbled.
Mila had a couple of suggestions. One involved her putting that condom on him with her mouth. But obviously it wasn’t a question he wanted answered because he headed for the door.
Roman walked out, leaving her to wonder something.
Did that count as one of their three times? Because if it did, she only had two more to go.