Over the past few months, I’ve become fixated on Saturdays. Weird, I know, but it’s the one day of the week when I’m guaranteed to see Roman. The one day when neither of us hides behind our work personas or simply avoids the other because our situation demands that we have to.
Since the dinner at my house, he’s kept a very hands-off approach with me. I welcome the space and lack of pressure, but I’d be a fool to say that I don’t miss that sense of closeness we developed that night. Sure, we’re still basically strangers, even though the man has seriously wormed his way into my daughter’s life. She holds him up on this pedestal now, this man who patiently helps her with homework each weekend while I plug away and get caught up at work. At home it’s Roman this and Roman that, but thankfully only once has she broached the subject of my feelings for him, feelings that to this day remain completely undefined. Of course I’m attracted to him—that goes without saying. I’d have to be dead not to be. And I completely admire the ease with which he’s accepted my child into his life, helping her with whatever she asks and generally being a good friend to her in every way.
His behavior toward me? Well, that’s been decidedly reserved, to say the least. I do sometimes catch him looking at me and the raw need in his eyes thrills me to no end. It also scares the hell out of me. What am I, a women with little to no sexual experience, supposed to do with a man like that? Just the idea of us alone, all tangled up in one another, causes sweat to break out across my forehead and a sick feeling to roll in my stomach. I’m so out of my league it’s not funny, and there are times I consider that maybe I need to talk about this with him and let him know I’m really not worth all this time and effort. There’s got to be plenty more women, experienced women, ready, willing, and able to meet his every need.
The whole other issue of us working together has not escaped me, and even though he practically ignores me whenever we pass in the hall, I do still fear what might happen if things between us move forward. I’ve even thought about talking this over with Mia, Cruz’s wife and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. She of all people would understand my predicament since not too long ago she was in my same position.
Jack says that I’ll never know if he’s ‘the one’ if I don’t take a chance, but taking a chance is exactly why I hesitate. I like where we are right now, the sort of friends we’re becoming. I like to watch him interact with my child, being the positive male role model that she’s been missing for so long. Changing things, taking a chance might tip things in a direction that sends me running for the hills. And quite honestly I’m afraid for things to change. I’m afraid if they do, I’ll just end up losing him sooner than I anticipated.
Now that it’s summertime I have a whole new set of challenges to face as a parent. Leaving my teenager alone all day is risky, even for a kid as good as Emmy. I remind myself that she’s still human, she’s still impulsive and will make the same mistakes I did at that age. That being said, we’re only a few weeks into her break and I’m already tearing my hair out and trying not to obsess about calling her every hour on the hour.
In a fit of weakness, I voiced my concerns to Roman, who immediately offered her a job helping him out in the office. I did my fair share of protesting, but when Emmy returned from the restroom and overheard him talking about it, I was quickly outranked.
Monday morning I walk her to his office, where he greets her with a smile and a loud, boisterous “welcome aboard.” The small desk he found for her is shoved into the corner with piles of paperwork on top of it, and while he might have created this job to give my kid something to do, he clearly needs the help.
“We’re good, Mom. You can go now.” Emmy tosses her backpack under the desk and plops down while I share a snicker with Roman.
“You’ll call me if she gets out of line?”
Taking a cue from my daughter, Roman rolls his eyes and gently shoves me toward the door. “We’re fine. I’ve got tons of things for her to do. I’ll be at the site later on, so if she finishes she can come up and help you.”
“You sure Cruz is okay with this?”
Roman shrugs. “Not his decision to make. My department, remember?”
Standing here debating this issue is a waste of time. My daughter is thrilled to have something to do and earn her own money, and I can work knowing I don’t have to worry about her. It’s a win-win no matter how you look at it. “Well, okay. And thank you. For everything.”
He glances at his little helper, sees her eyeing us closely, and nods, taking a step back. “You bet. I’ll see you later.”
By the end of the week she’s accompanying him to the jobsite, jotting down notes in the new iPad he bought for her that he insists is only for work—kind of like the laptop he showed up with yesterday afternoon which sent her jumping around the office in squeals. He’s spoiling her rotten, and even if he doesn’t realize the magnitude of what he’s done for her, and for me really, I will certainly never forget how generous he’s been to both of us.
Because she no longer has homework and is now working forty plus hours each week, Emmy elects to stay home Saturday morning and sleep in while I go into the office for a few hours. The truth is that what I have on my agenda really can wait until Monday, but I’ve gotten so used to seeing him these past eight weeks that I can’t imagine not doing so now.
He makes his appearance right at noon, toting the usual bag from the deli in one hand, bottles of soda in the other. His grin is wide as he glances around and plops down across from me. “Em sleeping in?”
“Oh yeah.”
“That’s good actually … because I wanted to talk to you.”
My stomach rolls nervously as I twist the cap on the soda. “Oh? About what?”
Those dark mocha eyes lock directly on mine. “I wanted to invite you and Emmy out next weekend.”
“Out where?”
“My dad has a boat, a really nice boat actually. During the summer all of us take it out, get some sun and swim a bit. I thought it might be fun if you and Emmy join us.”
All I can think about is the look on Cruz’s face when he sees me with his brother. “Oh, Roman, I really don’t think that would be appropriate.”
He mutters a curse and shoots to his feet. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already told you … fuck appropriate. If Cruz doesn’t like it, he doesn’t have to go.”
“I can’t lose my job. It’s all I have.”
His mouth drops open and pain fills his eyes. “It’s not all you have, babe. You have me.”
Now it’s my turn for the stunned, open-mouth look. I think we both know I don’t have him and I couldn’t even if I really wanted to. And calling me babe … where the heck did that come from? “I don’t have you, Roman, you know that. I have my daughter and rent and bills and a job I desperately rely on to make sure I’m not out on the welfare line. I can’t risk losing that, not even for you.”
The pain in his eyes is quickly replaced by fury as he stops pacing and leans on the edge of the desk. “So what then? You just expect me to walk away? After all these weeks of getting to know one another and spending time together, is that what you want?”
“What I want doesn’t matter. Why can’t you understand that?” Getting to my feet, I bravely move toward the hostile, hurt man who takes up the majority of the space in the small office. “I don’t have choices, Roman. I don’t have the luxury of falling in love with someone and letting them consume me. I have responsibilities and priorities I don’t dare put at risk because I can’t follow the rules.”
“He wouldn’t fire you, Sabrina. He’d fire me first.”
“You think I want that? You think I want you working for a company other than this one? Do you think I could live with myself knowing what you gave up to be with me?” Tears fill my eyes. “I wish I was free to be with you. I want more than anything to spend time with you alone, go out like adults do, and be someone other than Emmy’s mom just for a few hours.” The tears spill over and run in streams down my face. “God, I’m a terrible person for saying that.”
He steps over to me and cups my face in his large hands. “No you’re not. You’re human. You’re a woman. And you’ve spent too many years forgetting that.” His gaze trails down to my lips and beyond. When our eyes meet again, he takes another step closer, pulling me against his body and burying his face in my neck.
I’m surrounded with warm skin, hard muscle, and the subtle, intoxicating scent of cologne filling my senses. My only response can be to melt into his embrace and grip him tightly. This impasse has done nothing but create frustration for both of us, frustration that’s quickly manifesting itself in a deep, intense need that’s centering directly between my legs. His reaction mirrors mine, one hand coming down to press me tightly against his very present erection.
“Do you feel that? Do you feel how much I want you, how much I need you?” A shuddered sigh is my only answer. “Do you think I’d let anything happen to you, or that I’d hurt you?”
“No. Not intentionally.”
Lifting his head, he locks his eyes with mine. “What will it take for you to understand how precious you are to me?”
“Roman … I …” He halts my words by gently laying his lips on mine, catching my doubts and fears with his breath, silencing the protests with his warmth. And even though the kiss is over before it starts, I’m left panting, breathless, and more confused than ever.
“I want this. I want you and Emmy and a life we can make together.”
My head is spinning, shocked and stunned by these crazy turn of events, thinking that maybe I have imagined all of this or dreamed it up somehow. “What are you saying?”
He chuckles and rests his forehead against mine. “I’m saying I want to date you. And if that means the three of us, then so be it. I’m saying I want to build something, and hopefully that something will be a future.” He buries his face against my ear, whispering, “I want to slide deep inside of you and make you come so many times that you can’t remember your name.”
Laughing nervously, I reply, “Is that possible?”
“Want to find out?”
I’m quickly brought right back to reality with the knowledge that I’m clueless when it comes to things like sex and love. Taking a step back and pulling out of his arms, I murmur, “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”
“Okay, so tell me.”
I start to pace. “I haven’t … uh … I haven’t been with a man in a very long time.”
He shrugs. “Okay.”
My gaze shoots to his. “Not okay. You don’t understand. I mean a long, long time. Years.”
“So what you’re telling me is that you’ve forgotten how it works?”
“Yeah. Sorta. Probably.”
He gives my hand a tug and a minute later I’m plopped down on his lap, and he’s holding me tight. “Then explain it to me.”
I can feel my face heating and quickly avert my eyes. “I’ve only been with … uh … Emmy’s father. And that was before she was born.”
His eyes widen. “What? You haven’t had sex in … what … over fifteen years?”
“Yep. That about sums it up.” There’s no way in Hell that I’m telling him about Jack’s little—big—gift or the fact I’ve been using it almost daily to work off some of this sexual frustration caused by him.
“Huh.” I swear there’s smoke coming out of the man’s ears he’s thinking so hard, but all I can do is sit there and marvel at the fact that I’m in his arms, threading my fingers through his hair, and just a minute ago he kissed me for the first time.
While I fully expect him to make some lame excuses and run for the hills, what I don’t expect is to feel certain things standing at full attention, right beneath my bottom. “Uh, Roman, I …”
His hand comes up to grip my hair just as his mouth plunders mine. I should have known that the timid, mild kiss from before was nothing compared to the real deal. This time he owns me with his kiss, brands me with the tongue he slides against mine, and makes me completely his with the way he wraps me up in his embrace. The fear and apprehension from earlier slides away and soon my heart is racing furiously. There’s an almost painful ache centered right between my legs. Dampness fills my panties as I squirm against him and try to seek relief from the desperate need that’s suddenly overtaken me. Roman groans deep in his throat, as if he’s in some sort of pain having me perched on top of him. Fingers dig deep into my hips as he shifts slightly, and I’m suddenly very aware of how intense things have gotten for us. The movement sends shots of pleasure right between my legs, a feeling that is both welcoming and tormenting all at once.
He lifts his head slightly and slides his hand between my thighs, growling, “Are you wet for me?”
“Huh? What?”
His eyes sear into mine. “Are. You. Wet. For. Me?” Each word is punctuated by his fingers drifting over my sensitive, jean-covered skin.
As if someone released me from the restraints I’ve kept myself shackled in, I sigh out a “yes,” and this time I take his mouth. He groans again, does some fancy shifting of my body, and a moment later my legs are wrapped around his hips. His hands grip my butt tightly, encouraging me to seek my release from his body, which I do eagerly by rubbing myself against his erection like some horny teenager.
I’m drowning in the feel of him, in his mouth on mine, in the touch of our tongues as they dance together. My head is spinning from the overload of emotions and need, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I consider that we’ve somehow crossed into unchartered territory—no map, no compass, simply wandering aimlessly toward where we believe with all our hearts we should end up. But that’s the thing about believing in something: it requires a whole lot of hope and equal parts trust and faith. And as much as I want this, want him, and may even want us as a couple, I’m not yet certain I believe it would be the best thing for either me or my daughter.
Lifting my mouth from his, I settle my head in the crook of his neck and close my eyes. I can hear his heart beating erratically as one hand slowly strokes up and down my back. He holds me like I’m treasured cargo, safely encased in his embrace, and I have to ask myself why the hell I would ever turn a man like him away. He’s done nothing but take his time with me, he’s exuded patience and kindness, and even when he’s been irritated it’s never been with hateful intent or out-of-control anger.
“Let me talk to Cruz. I’ll make him understand. I’ll make this right for you … for us.”
I take a few deep breaths, breathing in the clean, male scent of his skin, whispering, “Why do you want this? Make me understand how we are a good idea.”
His hands grasp my face as he forces my gaze to his. “You’re the first woman to make me want forever. The first one to make me dream of something more than a few nights, or even a few weeks.” He drops a simple, sweet kiss on my lips. “You’re beautiful, and you don’t even see it. But it’s more than beauty for me. It’s the beauty I see on the inside. It’s the immense love you have for your daughter, the sweet kindness you show those around you, the innocence you show me sometimes when I pop off with something that embarrasses you.” Once more, he grips my hips and pulls me in tight. “Do I want to sleep with you? Damn straight I do. I want to screw you and fuck you and make love to you in every single way possible. More than a few times, actually.”
I grin at him and predictably my face warms. “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
He smirks at me and gives a quick thrust of his hips. “Nah. Just horny as hell, that’s all.”
We share a good, hearty laugh that leaves me with happy tears in my eyes before we settle down, and once more I snuggle against his chest. “You really think Cruz will understand?”
He nods and drops a kiss on my temple. “I’ll make him understand.”
Fear hits me out of nowhere, washing over me as I realize what just happened: I’ve effectively said yes. “Uh, Roman, can we, um … go slow?”
Understanding washes across his face. “Look, I know you’re nervous about all of it, and I completely understand. You’re in control, okay? We go at your pace.”
Lifting my head, I whisper, “You’re sure?”
That earns me one of his full-on dimpled smile. “I’ve been more than sure for a long, long time.” One more soft, simple kiss then he’s lifting me to my feet. “You eat. I’m gonna go talk to Cruz. Can I call you later?”
Worry settles in my gut as I nod. “Yes, please do.”
I’m in his arms the moment he stands next to me and murmurs, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Just set next Saturday aside, though, to go out on the boat. Okay?”
Shoving aside the fear and worry, I nod. “Okay.”
He bestows two more innocent kisses on my lips then with a wave and a smile, he takes his leave. Exhausted from the emotional overload and yes, the sexual frustration too, I sink into my chair and wrap the sandwich up to take home. Appetite now gone, all I can do is wait and worry about what Cruz’s reaction will be.
Rubbing the pad of my thumb across my lips, I close my eyes and smile. Hard to believe that Roman and I have been dancing around one another for so long now and today things have suddenly taken on a new direction. It’s humbling, knowing a man like him, a man that looks like him, would want to spend time with me. He’s so damn sexy the way he struts around in those tattered jeans and T-shirts that outline every rippling muscle. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fantasize about what he looks like without clothes. And today’s little sample of the way he performs sure did give me a sneak peek into what makes him tick. Beneath that suave, beautiful exterior is a man who does everything with passionate intensity. He kisses to mark, touches to warn, and speaks words to promise, not to threaten. I have no doubt that when he finally possesses me in every way, I’ll be left wanting nothing. Needing nothing. Knowing only that belonging to him is a lifetime commitment not only for my heart, but for my soul as well.