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“Your insatiable,” she says and practically moans.
I laugh as I claim her lips to mine. “Now, that, we can agree on.”
I WATCH INDIE AS SHE sleeps peacefully in my arms. I’ve worn her out. We went for round two and then three in the shower. I wasn’t lying when I told her I couldn’t get enough. I could have gone again; I could have gone all night, but I have exhausted her. Her pussy was swollen from my constant need for her, and even though her sleepy, dreamy eyes begged me for more, I knew she needed rest. The moment I tucked her into my arms, her head heavied on my chest, her breathing evened and slowed, and sleep took her.
Her hair is still damp from our shower, and her skin is still flushed from our fucking. Lips swollen from our kissing, pink and pouty, as she sleeps. She’s magnificent.
A calmness drenches me. A calmness and peace I don’t think I’ve ever felt, and then it dawns on me. This strange feeling that I have deep inside my chest, it’s love. It's pure, genuine love. This is what I have been searching for. This is the reason I pushed marriage and Georgina away. This is what my life has been missing.
I inhale a long-satisfied breath brimmed with so much peace and relief that I fall into the deepest, most restful sleep. One I have not had in a long, long time.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Indie
AS THE MORNING SUN begins to light up the room, regret hits me hard and heavy. I breathe in deeply; the room smells like him. I can hear him breathing behind me, but I dare not turn around. Today could go so many different ways, and each one dances around in my mind, taunting me with the possibilities, the tragedies, and the heartbreak.
I’m not naive enough to know Roman and I are not suited. Roman is certainly not the relationship nor marrying type, yet the way he took me last night was as if he was claiming me. Marking me as his, and if I am totally honest with myself, I liked it. I liked belonging to someone, even if it was just for a night. It felt incredible for once in my life to just think about myself and not look past the moment. To not overthink and damn the consequences. But as I lay here naked in his bed this morning, I’m not so sure if I have the same resolve as I did last night.
“Good morning.” Roman's voice rumbles from behind me. “Sleeping Beauty finally awakes.” His arm snakes around me, pulling me into his chest.
“What time is it?” I roll over to face him, summoning every bit of courage I have. He looks at me with sleepy eyes as though he has just woken himself.
“Seven,” he replies, and suddenly, I feel shy, my nakedness under the sheets making me feel vulnerable and exposed. I swallow thickly as I search his eyes for guilt, apology, regret even, but I find none. Instead, his eyes sparkle with something I’ve never seen in them before... Contentment.
I blink a few times. I don’t know what to say, or how to act. I’ve never had a morning after, especially not with my boss. A million thoughts run through my head. I prepare myself for the whole ‘last night was great but...’ speech I know that is coming.
I’m okay with that. I knew nothing would come out of this, and I certainly didn’t expect anything. I guess, I just know this will complicate things even more. I suddenly wish I had made better choices last night. I don’t regret the sex part. That was the most unbelievable experience of my life. It’s who I had it with that I am questioning. Yet, would it have been the same with someone else? There is no denying we have chemistry, no denying we share a connection. Is that what made it so amazing? Perhaps it was the forbiddingness of it that made it so much more alluring? I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know what to think right now.
“Don’t do that.” He frowns at me, reaching down and tracing his finger over my lip.
“Do what?”
“Punish yourself.” He pauses. “Question yourself. Question me.”
Jesus, how does he read me so well?
“I...” I stop myself. My words fall short because I don’t know what it is I want to say, and God, I can’t focus when he’s looking at me like that. Roman’s hair is dishevelled from sex and sleep, his bare chest looks even more divine in the morning light. His tattoos no longer shadows, but inked masterpieces on his bronzed skin. The artwork entwined with symbols and words that I don’t know the meaning of are perfectly positioned and adds to the mysterious allure of this man. This man that was inside me last night.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of his mouth between my legs, and for the first time in my life, I experienced an orgasm. Correction; multiple. My core pulses under the sheets just from the sheer thought of it. I actually thought I was going to implode, the way I felt so out of control, the absolute bliss, the stars, the fucking stars that floated around me when he took me to that place of utter pleasure.
“I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know how I should feel, or what you feel, or if we’ve just made things harder for ourselves?” I finally divulge.
His brows crease in a frown, but his lips smile at me. “You know what I think?”
I frown back at him, unsure if I really want to know.
“I think we should do it again, and then assess how we feel.” He grins at me so devilishly that I find myself grinning back.
In an instant, he’s on me, kissing me, touching me, devouring me. I laugh from underneath him. It’s the laughter of pure happiness, and I realize that I have not truly laughed like, or felt like, this in a very long time.
I can feel the hard glorious length of him against me as he peppers me with kisses. I’m sore and a little swollen between my legs. All the muscles in my body ache deliciously, reminding me I’m not accustomed to the amount of sex we had in a short period. As he starts to enter me, I wince, letting out a small gasp from the intrusion. He notices and pulls out, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly dips the tip of his cock into my wetness and spreads it up and down my folds. I close my eyes, the sensation overwhelming me. He then enters me again slowly, just his head. He pulls out and drags himself again through my folds, coating himself in my juices, repeating this over and over. Each time he does, he enters me a little deeper, a little further. I relax into the rhythm, feeling every inch of him. There is something so much more intimate about this than last night. Every movement is gentle, deliberate, and perfectly controlled. I open my eyes and find him watching me. His expression tells me he feels every piece of me as I feel him. It’s almost too overwhelming, I almost can’t look at him, but at the same time, I’m entranced in him and can’t look away.
Once he’s all the way inside me, he rests his elbows on either side of my head, kissing me. The kiss is so intense that I feel tears run down my cheeks. They’re not tears of pain or sadness, they are tears of jubilation, tears of belonging. Tears because of how freely I can feel now that my walls have crumbled.
Roman kisses away my tears silently, as if he knows without me telling him, all the while he continues to move slowly in and out of me in a rhythm that beats with my heat. I feel him, taste him, he is all around me. He is not fucking me; he is making love to me. With every movement of his hips, he reassures me that his heart is mine. As he kisses away my tears, he takes so much more with them. My fears, my doubts, my sorrows, and in their place, he fills it with protection, affection, and so many possibilities.
Under his weight, my body tightens, legs rigid, back arching as a symphony of sensations plays within me to the rhythm he strums. Tension crescendos, steadily building. Roman’s gaze remains fixed on mine as we unravel together, synchronized release accompanied by echoing moans filling the room, our breaths harmonizing as one.
