Chapter Twelve
Twenty minutes later, Brooke was sweating. Hard.
But God, did she feel alive!
Roman had wrapped her hands before putting them inside boxing gloves, then he’d taught her how to position her feet and punch the hell out of the Everest bag in his gym.
It had made her forget about the bad man. About her parents. About her conflicting feelings for Roman and the weird vibes he’d given off upstairs. Whatever had happened with Percy and Melinda had shut down the playful banter and flirting he’d been doing with her. She’d seen the pain behind his eyes. Felt the tension in his body.
His body was loose again now, a somewhat predatory look in his eye as he stalked around her in the ring. He wore protective guards on his hands, holding them up for her to punch. “Left, right, left,” he demanded, and Brooke gave him what he wanted, the sound of leather on leather echoing in the room.
It was a much bigger version of what was in his office. Weights, mirrors, the giant punching bag, a small boxing ring. Framed photos of him at competitions accepting his winner’s belt and trophies lined the south wall. Some showed him in the ring with various opponents. He looked young, rebellious, defiant.
“Light on your feet, Heaton.” He switched direction and started walking her in an opposite circle. “Let’s see that left uppercut.”
The sleeveless tank he’d loaned her was too big, hanging down past her butt, but was soft and smelled like his laundry detergent.
“I can barely hold my arms up.” The tone of her voice was entirely too chipper for the complaint. She couldn’t help it. Her legs shook and her arms were exhausted, but she’d never felt more exhilarated. “I won’t even be able to lift my phone tomorrow.”
“Cry baby.”
She swung, just like he’d taught her, using her core and her hips to power the punch.
“Lightweight,” he taunted, but he was grinning.
And smoldering.
Boxing turned him on.
Works for me!
She grinned back. “Don’t kid yourself. I can do this all night.”
“All night, huh?”
She lowered her fists and took a step back, breathing hard. “Not really. I suck at bluffing as well as the art of seduction, in case you haven’t noticed.”
The grin stayed in place, his own hands lowering as he stopped his predatory pace. He shucked off his guard mitts. “You did good for your first time.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Between shooting practice and this? You’ll definitely be sore tomorrow. I’ll help you with your gloves.”
She stepped forward and playfully punched his rock-hard abs. His tank top’s open sides showed her all of them, making her mouth water. “Why did you quit boxing? You’re so good at it.”
He helped her out of the ring and over to the bench where he made her sit. He kneeled in front of her, bringing them almost face-to-face. “Shoulder injury.”
“That sucks.”
He untied her right glove and gently guided it off her hand. “I was good at boxing, but it was never going to be a long-term career. The injury, and the rehab for it, forced me to look at different avenues for my future. It all worked out for the best.”
The release of the weight from her hand was glorious, even though her fingers were still taped to protect her knuckles. She raised her other hand and let him work on the ties. “Do you miss it?”
“Every day.”
He was alone, his brother was dead, his fiancee had left him. He’d given up a career in a sport he loved, no matter how casual he was about quitting it.
The second glove came off and she rolled her wrists this way and that. “I’d like more lessons.”
He handed her a towel. “Any time.”
Dabbing at the sweat along her hairline, she let him take her hand to cut off the tape. His grasp was firm, holding her steady so he didn’t nick her skin.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” The concentration on his face, his closeness, made her pulse skitter and jump. “About not telling you what I remembered.”
“No pressure. I know you’ll tell me if you think it’s critical to our case.”
Was it? “I don’t think it is, but I’d like to tell you anyway.”
The tape fell away and Roman massaged her hand. His fingers were warm and strong as he kneaded each knuckle and tip. “I owe you an apology as well.”
“For what?”
His gaze, now tentative, rose to hers. “I can’t exactly expect you to share your past if I won’t share mine.”
She stroked a finger over his jaw where the day’s stubble already bloomed. “It’s okay. I understand.”
He took her still-taped hand and began gently removing the binding. “I never talk about it because it’s…”
“Too painful,” she finished for him. All she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and kiss away that pain. “You’re so busy rescuing everyone else, you’ve never let anyone help you.”
“Brooke, I…”
Before he could say anything else, she leaned forward and kissed him.
It was just a soft kiss. One she hoped would convey how much she appreciated his friendship, everything he’d done for her in the past couple days. That she hoped for more…
As per normal, her attempt at seduction was less subtle than she’d planned. The moment her lips touched Roman’s he came up on his knees and cupped the back of her head, moving her backward. His lips demanded a deeper response, his tongue seeking access to her mouth.
She gave it to him, grabbing onto his shoulders, her thighs spreading to allow his body to come closer. He gripped her hips, sliding them toward him while at the same time, he ravaged her mouth.
Just like earlier that day, the chemistry between them ran hot and fast. Brooke’s already warm body ratcheted up another ten degrees. She was tired of cerebral sex—she wanted the real thing, and she wanted it now.
“Brooke,”—Roman drew back, his lips trailing across her jaw, down her neck. “We’re about to cross a line here.”
She laughed, the sound low and husky as it echoed in the training center. “Oh, Roman, we’ve had this conversation, and correct me if I’m wrong, but we crossed that line already. Do you really want to think about it now?”
God knew she didn’t. It wasn’t everyday that a Plain Jane like her got to have sex with her fantasy man. Since that night at the bar, with bullets flying and a hero saving her life, she’d done a one-eighty. Life was too wild, too messy, to hesitate and let an opportunity like this pass her by.
“If you’re okay with it, I am,” he murmured in her ear as his hands grabbed the hem of the tank top and drew it over her head.
His went next and they took turns fervently undressing each other while they snuck in kisses. Somewhere along the line, he produced a condom and she put it on him, enjoying the surprise on his face at her boldness.
Before she knew it, she was in the ring once more, on her back and spread eagle. Roman hovered above her, his eyes roaming over her breasts, her belly, lower. She did the same to him, letting her gaze feast on his incredible body, lingering on his erect cock that made her lick her lips.
Her breath caught as he bent his head and licked each of her nipples, sucking on them, before he dragged wet kisses down her belly. At the apex of her sex, his beautiful eyes looked up at her and his fingers kneaded her thighs.
He was so sexy, so powerful.
“Wait,” she said, her voice ragged. “The first time I come for you, I want you inside me.”
She saw his pupils grow bigger, darker. His nostrils flared and a moment later, he slid up her body once more, taking his time, nipping, licking, tonguing her. Her back arched, shoving her breasts into his hands, his mouth.
Wanton? Shit, she was downright shameless.
Heart kicking inside her chest, she spread her legs farther, loving the feel of his erection, of him. “I need you,” she said, reaching for him. “Now.”
But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her away, lifting the hand up and over her head. Pinning it against the floor of the ring where they’d just been sparring.
He caught her other wrist and did the same, causing her body to arch again, her nipples grazing his chest. “Goddamn, you’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to bury my cock inside you.”
He sounded downright primal. Deadly. Just like he’d looked at the gun range.
Brooke had never felt hotter in her life.
“Then do it,” she challenged him, wrapping her legs around his buttocks and tugging. “Give me what I want.”
He kissed her, hard, and she returned it, sucking his tongue into her mouth. His cock nudged her and she arched her hips up, totally at his mercy and loving every second of it.
She’d never been so exposed to a man. Not just pinned down naked in this manner, but totally exposed emotionally as well. None of her other boyfriends had ever known so much about her. None of them had ever taken care of her the way Roman had.
“Oh, God,” she moaned when he entered her, completely filling and stretching her to the max, inch by sweet inch.
His hips ground against hers, driving him in and out, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing in the room, just like her punches had earlier. Keeping her hands pinned over her head, he lifted his upper body and watched her breasts bounce with every thrust. “Come for me,” he said.
Her walls tightened as he drove into her with a frenzy she tried to match. Desperation scorched her skin. She was so close…
As if he sensed it, he bore down on her, keeping most of his weight on his elbows as he continued to hold her captive, using his immense strength to drive himself deeper and deeper. Faster. Harder.
Brooke cried out. Her pleasure, desperation, the intensity…it was all too much as the orgasm shot her into oblivion.
She writhed against his ministrations, wanting it to never end, needing more of him.
All of him.
Suddenly her hands were free. His strong fingers were on her hips, holding her in place as he grew even bigger inside her.
Clutching his shoulders, she rode the wave. “Your turn,” she murmured in his ear as she thrust her hips up to meet him.
His teeth nipped at the spot on her shoulder where it met her neck. “Fuck me, I can’t…hold back any longer.”
“Then don’t.” She twisted her hands in his hair, kicked his ass with her heels. “Let go.”
His already hard thrusts became harder. She met him with the same intensity, feeling a new orgasm building inside her.
Heat, lust, and desire hit her in waves, bringing her to the edge as he moaned his pleasure near her ear. She cried out as her orgasm struck, her walls milking him into his.
“God…damn.” His body went rigid. He thrust again as deep as he could go.
The pulsing of his release felt so good. So right. As he dropped onto her, she hugged him close, loving his weight, the sweat they’d created. The way they fit together like they were meant for each other.
After a wonderful few minutes of floating, he caressed her face, kissed her lips. “You’re a naughty woman.”
Yes, she was. “Surprising, I know.”
“I love it,” he said, and picked her up and carried her to the bathroom.
In the shower, she enjoyed the warm spray, her legs shaking from the intense lovemaking. Roman joined her as she wet her hair, his hands kneading her breasts. She arched, giving him full access. He’d donned another condom, already hard and ready again. His penis bumped against her stomach. A finger rubbed the sensitive spot between her legs and she moaned.
Another finger joined the first, parting her engorged folds and pushing deeper. She was ready to go again as well. At the same time, he thumbed her clit, making her grasp his shoulders.
But she wanted the pleasure to be about him this time. She wanted her mouth on his cock.
Never had she asked for what she wanted. Never had she honestly craved to perform oral sex on a man. Which says a lot about the men I’ve dated.
But his erection… It captivated her like the rest of his incredible body. She wanted to touch every inch of him, kiss and lick as well.
She caught Roman’s hand and drew it back, hating the loss of his touch. A touch that could bring her to climax in a few simple strokes. But it was time someone took care of him for a change.
And I’m the one to do it.
Kissing away his protests, she wrapped a hand around his enlarged penis and gave a tug before she rolled the condom off.
He sucked in his breath, then captured her by the back of the neck and kissed her hard.
She stroked him, loving the power she seemed to have over him, the water and steam making it feel like a dream. Sliding down his neck, chest, and lower to his abdomen, she finally found what she wanted.
On her knees, she kissed the head, licked the ridged length of him, sliding the tip of her tongue into the slit.
“Jesus,” he swore, his hips bucking. His hands sank into her wet hair as she took him deep, sucking him into the back of her throat.
They moved together in a slow, intense rhythm, Brooke setting her hands on his powerful thighs for balance. As the pace increased, his hands keeping their hold on her head, she felt the shift in his body. The powerful drawing in of his muscles as if he were about to deliver a punch. He took one of her hands and placed it on his balls.
She had much to learn.
Gently massaging his sac, she loved the way he cursed again and pumped into her mouth.
The feel of his muscles contracting told her all she needed to know. One final deep suck and she clenched him to the roof of her mouth with her tongue.
“Fuck!” he yelled, the sound accompanied by his release.
She continued to drink him in, using her tongue, her cheeks, swallowing every last drop of his release.
His hold relaxed and he sagged against the tiles, drawing her off her knees and giving her a heavy-lidded look. “Believe me when I say…”—his chest heaved as he took a deep breath—“you do not need tips in the seduction department.”
The compliment made her grin. She took up the bar of soap and started raising suds. The soap jumped from her hands and she let it fall, running her hands over her breasts and enjoying the way his eyes darkened. He got up, reached out of the shower, and came back with a fresh condom.
Roman sat on the wooden-slatted seat—cypress by the look of it—and wiggled his fingers at her. “Come here.”
“I’m dirty.” She grinned but stayed out of his reach.
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m serious. That boxing stuff made me sweat. So you just sit there and enjoy the show.”
She found the soap and ran the bar over her ankle, calf, and up higher. At the juncture between her thighs, she used it to spread her folds, then turned so he could see her butt and used it to stroke each of her cheeks.
The soap went flying again when Roman came off the seat and grabbed her, forcing her hands to the tiled wall as he bent her forward. Her heavy breasts swayed and he filled his hands with them, pinching her nipples and making her gasp.
He was hard again and had covered himself. She felt the hot length of him slide along her backside as he leaned over and ran his tongue over each vertebrae of her spine.
She spread her feet wider and welcomed the heavy fullness of him as he entered her from behind. One hand tangled in her hair, the other clutched her hip as he began driving himself into her.
Her arms shook as she braced herself against his assault, every nerve in her body sending up a cheer. Deep down, she knew that no matter how much she tried to take care of him, he would always give her twice as much.
Roman whistled as he took the steaks off the grill and slid them onto the platter. Inside Brooke napped on the couch in the den, exhausted after their workout. He liked that he could wipe the worry off her face and put her into a blissful sleep after their long, complicated day.
Positioning a steak and a pile of the grilled vegetables on each of the plates he had set out, he continued to whistle under his breath. Unlike Brooke, he was energized from the three rounds he’d gone with her from the training room to the shower, and damned if he wasn’t ready to go again.
She was killing him. Every word she spoke, every look she gave him. It was all seduction and she didn’t even realize it.
He didn’t want to examine it too hard, but it wasn’t just the physical exercise pumping him up. The sex was hot and he loved every minute of it, glad that Brooke was so unencumbered under her buttoned-up, professional image. Yet it went far beyond that. Beyond his need to protect and keep her safe. She accepted life on its terms like he did. She wasn’t a drama queen, nor did she pry into his psyche, and she had a sense of humor even after all the shit she’d been through. She was tough and smart, kind and funny, all at the same time.
She made him feel better about himself.
A tough job.
He wanted to free her from her pain in return.
Unfortunately, for all his money, skills, and connections, he couldn’t move enough mountains to do that for her.
But if he caught the bastard stalking her, it would be a damn good start.
He’d seen the worst of so many people over the years, it often left him jaded. Combined with his own self-loathing, he could have sunk into a rut he’d never have climbed out of. Luckily, he had a driving need to be the hero, as his brother had accused him of over and over again, and that need wouldn’t let him rest.
The first time he’d seen Brooke, she’d been in front of a group of law enforcement agents talking about a growing terrorist threat in the Pacific Northwest and the group’s deep-seated religious beliefs. He’d felt his world shift. While she had in no way condoned the group’s actions, he’d walked out of the conference understanding them, and what mattered to them, in a way he hadn’t before.
Two weeks later, his taskforce nailed the leader and shut down the cell. He’d experienced a renewed sense of purpose.
And that’s when he’d known he had to have Brooke for himself.
Since he’d formed his DT Taskforce, he’d been through at least a dozen agents and half as many expert consultants that knew their job well but didn’t click with the DTT’s core members. Brooke had earned their respect from the first day and continued to do so.
“Hey.”
She stood in the doorway, makeup free, her damp hair hanging in waves. She wore nothing but one of his button-down shirts. A single button over her breasts held the two sides of the shirt together and she was pantyless. Even though she’d picked up clothes from the store, she seemed to prefer his.
Fine with me.
He loved seeing her in his clothes. Seeing her in his house. His shower, his bed.
My ring.
He had more plans for her inside the boxing ring, and none of them involved gloves.
Or clothes.
The handcuffs were still an option.
“Hey, yourself. Ready for dinner?”
She walked over to the sliders and peered out at his large deck. “What a lovely view. Can we eat outside?”
The sun was sinking over the water, dozens of boats at the docks far below, bobbing in a peaceful rhythm with the waves.
It wasn’t advisable, seeing as how her stalker could be out there, even though it would be challenging because of the sheer drop off for him to get close. But it wasn’t impossible, and while the stalker didn’t seem the type to take a shot at her from a distance—and he couldn’t get close enough to hurt her any other way—Roman couldn’t take chances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her hand landed on the glass door. “You think he’s out there?”
Didn’t that just kill the mood? “We have to assume he could be.”
“Good.” She unlatched the door lock. “Let’s give him something to see.”
She marched out on the porch.
Roman closed his eyes for a quick moment and blew out a breath. Crazy, gutsy woman.
He carried the plates out and set them on the glass table. She stood at the railing, the wind gently ruffling her bangs and blowing the shirt open. Roman approached her and buttoned a couple more buttons on the shirt. “I really have to advise against this.”
“I know you do, but I’m tired of living in fear. He took so much from me when I was ten, I’ll be damned if I let him do it again.”
Roman scanned the area. It would be difficult for anyone to see her out here, with the way the house had been built against the rocky hill. His closest neighbors actually had better views of the marina, but they were all on different levels of the hill. If Brooke’s stalker was in one of the boats far below with a good set of binoculars, he’d be able to see them when she stood at the railing like this, but what were the odds the bastard had a boat down there?
Roman had seen some bizarre things in his time, least of which were serial killers who would go to any lengths to keep their prey in sight. “Come sit down,” he told Brooke, guiding her back to the table.
She smiled up at him, the setting sun spreading a warm glow over her face. “Ordering me around, boss?”
The term made him smile. “Damn right. Your care and well-being are on my ass right now. Get over here and eat the steak I cooked you.”
She mock-saluted him and he pulled out her chair. He handed her silverware and she inhaled deeply over the steak. “This smells amazing.”
“I’ll get us some drinks.”
He turned to go back in and Brooke slapped him on the ass.
“Don’t be long.”
He grabbed her wrist, heat igniting the air between them. Bringing the tips of her fingers to his lips, he let his tongue do a slow lick over the end of each one.
Her breath hitched and he released her before she launched herself at him again. He was more than happy to take her back inside and ravish her but there was no sense wasting a good cut of meat. They had all night.
“Before I give out any more sexual favors,” she said a few minutes later, around a bite of food, “I want to know about your brother.”
His fork stopped in mid-air. “I don’t talk about him.”
“I know that. I don’t talk about my shit with people either, but I opened up to you.” She raised her wine glass to him. “Remember? Turnabout’s fair play, and as I recall, Dr. Walsh, you told me you were an open book the other day at lunch. You said you’d tell me anything I want to know.”
Busted.
He went back to eating.
She didn’t seem to care. “I’m serious about putting out. You want more sex tonight? Start talking.”
What had brought this on? “That’s a dangerous trick.”
“Is it?”
The smirk on her face didn’t hide the sincere solicitude in her eyes. She seemed to understand how his demons haunted him. That his driving need to take care of her, and all the others, stemmed from them.
“Percy was an Army Ranger. Three tours in the Middle East. A true hero.”
Those facts were easy to recite.
“Heroes always have flaws,” she said.
There was no judgment in it, just simple observation.
A not so simple truth, nevertheless.
Lowering his fork, he wiped his mouth on a napkin. “He came home with a back injury and an addiction to pain killers. Things went downhill from there.”
“Usually does. What happened?”
Dog on a bone. “I got him the help he needed, rehab for both the injury and drugs. Got him clean, helped him get a job. Next thing I know, he’s in deep shit with a major drug dealer here in San Diego. I bailed him out, covered it up so our parents wouldn’t find out, and nearly lost my career over it.”
She swirled the wine in her glass, nodded, but didn’t offer platitudes.
He appreciated that. He tossed the napkin on the table and took a deep breath. Talking to her was as easy as fucking her. It was a first for him. “It took time initially, but I brought him here, cleaned him up, insisted he fess up to the entire family. He wasn’t going to get better hiding his addiction. At first, he was adamant that no one find out. After a year in Narcotics Anonymous and a lot of heart-to-hearts with me, he finally agreed he had to come clean. I thought he’d turned a corner.”
He chugged the last half of his beer and still she offered no comment. Her gaze was fixed on the distant view of the water and she waited, letting him take his time.
“He was going to explain everything to the family at a birthday party my mom was having for him a few weeks before my wedding. She insists on celebrating our birthdays every year and this was a biggie. His thirtieth. He’d missed a lot of them while on his tours and she was really looking forward to it. We all were. That morning, he was found in an alley, dead from multiple stab wounds. Another man, a low level drug dealer, was also dead, his neck broken. A drug deal gone bad. The cops believed Percy met with the guy, killed him, and then was killed himself by another gang member.”
She shook her head. “Damn.”
“My parents were shocked, beside themselves and devastated that I had withheld the truth from them. My sisters, my fiancee…they all felt betrayed and for good reason.”
“They would rather you had betrayed Percy’s trust and confidence?”
“Percy was an addict, and I’m one too, just not with drugs. I’m addicted to rescuing people. At least that’s what I was told. I was accused of having an ego so big I thought I could save him on my own. Maybe they’re right. I don’t know anymore. At the time, I was just trying to help my big brother stay afloat. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Looking back, would you change your actions in any way?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Saying it was a relief. Percy had wanted to suffer alone, and Roman had made sure he had the help available to overcome his injury and addiction. There was more to the story, but that he couldn’t share.
“I’ve got news for you.” Brooke ran a finger around the rim of her wine glass. “Doing the right thing usually pisses people off, especially those who love you. Few of us who are true to our inner code of ethics get through life without offending people we care about.”
“I can’t argue that.”
“Of course not. It’s true.” She started eating again, peppering him with questions about his boxing career, which was easier to talk about. Soon, they were laughing over work stories, including some of her adventures at various anthropology digs.
He brought up her book and how it had made fossils cool to a whole new generation of people. “I tried,” she said, “but the book and media tour wasn’t the highlight of my career so far. There was a small dig in New Mexico where we uncovered a mass grave from the Anasazi area. I believe they had a serial killer among them and may never have realized it. That’s the kind of stuff that fascinates me.”
The love for her work showed on her face. As she finished off the last bite of steak, she wiped the corners of her mouth and sat back. “I haven’t eaten this well in years.”
“Doesn’t the Smithsonian feed you on your adventures?”
“We’re typically in the middle of nowhere with little access to anything, and it’s up to us to supply our meals. Plus, I rarely work for the Smith. Usually, it’s a private group, the government, or a University, and none of them have bottomless funds so stipends are next to nothing. I’d love to be able to fund my own digs, but that’s never going to happen. The expenses are astronomical.”
The sun gave up its struggle against the night, the last bars of peach and purple slipping below the horizon. Above them, stars began to make an appearance. The deck lights flickered on one by one.
Brooke sighed and sipped her wine. “I love it here. It’s so peaceful. I’m rethinking coming after you for your money. I mean, the sex is amazing, but this view and the house? They are pretty damn sweet too.”
He kicked back in his chair, watching her guileless face betray her words. “So you’re going to take me to the cleaners then?”
She sent a cocky smile his way. Her bare toes touched his leg and inched up his calf. “I’ll keep putting out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Reaching over, he took her wine glass and set it on the table, then drew her to him across the arm of her chair. “I just might take you up on that, Doc.”
The kiss started out sweet and slow, then like always, went sonic. What was it about her? He had no control, everything going from 0 to 60 in seconds.
The next thing Roman knew, Brooke straddled his lap and his hands found their way to her heavy breasts under the shirt.
He’d been hard the moment she’d mentioned sex and her toes had touched his calf. As she slid a hand past the waistband of his shorts, his cocked bobbed up to meet it.
She kissed him thoroughly, her hand working him over. A minute later, she was sliding off his lap to replace her hand with her mouth.
Damn, she loved giving oral sex. He loved that she loved it.
But it was her turn to experience that pleasure.
Lifting her from her knees, he cradled her in his arms, a soft cry of surprise parting her lips. He carried her into the house, her laughter trailing after them.
The fireplace gave off a warm glow in the den, lighting his way. He laid her on the rug in front of it, his shirt riding up over her hips and revealing exactly what he wanted.
She reached for him and he pinned her wrists to the floor, hovering over her for a moment as he watched the flickering light skim her face, neck, and bare legs. Like him, it too wanted to kiss her everywhere.
Her eyes watched him as he took his time scanning her body. They were filled with happiness, lust, something else he couldn’t name and didn’t want to. As long as she wanted him, he was deliriously happy himself.
He unbuttoned the shirt, revealing her breasts fully to the light and his touch. He filled his hands with them and she arched as he tweaked the already tight nipples. Lowering his head, he sucked a breast into his mouth, tonguing the erect nipple.
So hard. So perfect.
Her fingers plunged into his hair, holding him there.
But not for long. He couldn’t get enough of her breasts, but he had another target in mind.
He pinned down her hips, letting his lips trail lower over her ribs, running his tongue along each ridge before dropping to kiss her flat stomach, her hip bones.
He kissed her mound, slipping his tongue in between the folds. She gasped at the intrusion, but she was wet, ready.
Her knees fell open, baring her sensitive flesh more fully and he took advantage, gliding his tongue lower, deeper, making her arch even higher and moan.
“Oh my…god…Roman.”
The sound of his name on her lips, raw, sexy, needy, echoed in his head, and a strange sensation hit his solar plexus so hard, he had to focus on breathing for a moment.
Because goddamn, he wanted to hear that come out of her mouth every day, every night.
Her body was primed, calling for him. His dick banged against his shorts, begging to get out and answer.
“Please…”
The whispered word was so faint, his pulse beating so loud in his ears, he wondered if he’d actually heard it.
He knew what she craved, but he wanted to hear her say it. He raised his head, his eyes locking with hers over her arching, naked body. “What do you want, Brooke?”
Her head moved from side to side, long hair splayed out in generous waves. A mewing sound escaped her lips. She licked them, rocking her hips as if that were her answer.
“Say it.” He licked her inner thigh. “Say you want my tongue inside your sweet, tender pussy right now. You want me to fuck you with it and make you scream from the pleasure.”
“Yes…”
“Say it.” Her hands reached for him, but he snagged her wrists and held them. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want…you.”
The good doctor didn’t talk dirty, but the words she did say—I want you—ripped through him, pressing against his solar plexus again, making it hard to breathe in the most exquisite way ever.
Going down on her, he found her nub with his tongue, circled it a few times, then dropped to her entrance. She moaned and squirmed under his assault, her ankles digging in to his back.
Her scent filled his nostrils, her trembling thighs vibrating against his arms that pinned them open. He had her where he wanted her.
Mine.
He drove into her opening, lapped, withdrew and flicked up to her bud again. Repeated the sequence, creating a rhythm with her rocking hips.
As he felt her drawing close to release, he concentrated on circling, sucking, building the cadence she needed until…
“Roman!”
No whisper this time, her cry rang in the shadowed rafters, her body bucking under his imposed restraints and grinding against his mouth.
She was so fucking beautiful. So…
Mine.
In the aftermath, he tongued her gently, squeezing out the last of her pleasure. Then he released her and drew her boneless body to him, tucking her inside the protection of his arms as the fireplace continued to crackle and throw its light across both their bodies.