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He growled in her ear and she found herself being hauled into his arms, against his chest. As if she weighed nothing. As if she was some tiny waif he could play with at will.
He crossed the room to the couch that had played host to several presidents and world leaders over the years. Roman dropped her on the antique and moved between her legs, like a general consolidating a victory.
With his hands on her knees, he slowly pushed her thighs apart, watching as her skirt slid up. “It’s not a game. No games this time.”
But everything was a game with Roman. Even when he didn’t know he was playing, there were always possibilities to dissect, moves to be considered and made. Even knowing that, she couldn’t turn him away, not when he was so close. Not when the last few months had been so devoid of joy or pleasure. She’d lost Mad, and now she had so many questions about Zack. She would have to interrogate him, subtly of course.
At some point, she’d have to interrogate Roman about his best friend, too. But not tonight. Now she wanted to believe that it was all a hideous mistake and Roman was exactly the noble—if complicated—man she’d always believed him to be. That he was strong and ruthless but damn loyal. The kind of man who would never hurt his country…or one of his childhood friends.
“I told you I don’t want to talk.” Otherwise, she couldn’t pretend. If they kept talking, she would have to remember why she was in London. And she would have to walk away from this brief moment of heaven.
“Then I’ll have to do something else to keep my mouth occupied, won’t I?” As he gave her a crooked smile, his hands slid farther up her thighs, making her shiver.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He stared at her breasts. His jawline tightened and his eyes went pitch black with desire. Gus could feel her heart thudding against her chest. Every inch of her skin had come alive as he moved with slow, purposeful grace.
She couldn’t look away, could barely breathe. She was half naked in front of the only man she’d ever loved and he was so, so close to touching her where she needed him most.
“You’ll have to tell me what to do, Augustine. If you don’t want me to talk, how can I possibly occupy my mouth?”
She hated her full name. It made her sound like some fainting Victorian heroine. And yet when Roman caressed the syllables with his deep-as-sin voice, she loved it. He made her name sound like sex and need and pure woman.
“You know what I want.” She wanted his mouth on her needy flesh, licking her, sucking her. Making her forget about everything except this man and the pleasure they could share.
“I can do that.” He leaned over and kissed her knee with a soft brush of his lips. “Here?”
Bastard. “No.”
“So you’re going to be picky, are you? I should have known. I can think of a place to put my mouth.” He leaned closer, bracing his hands on either side of her and lifting more of his body over her own.
Then he sucked her nipple into his mouth, and Gus nearly screamed. His tongue rolled around her sensitive peak as he pressed her against the sofa cushions. The hard edge of his teeth nipped her. She gasped, her body flashing hot in an instant. God, she was getting ripe and wet, as though there was a direct line from her nipple straight to her pussy. Each suck and lick and swipe of his tongue made her swell with need.
“This is a good occupation for my mouth.” He kissed his way to her other breast, giving it the same lavish attention. “I’m sure we can find something to do with my hands, too. Tell me where I should touch you, Augustine.”
She lifted her hips to him, moaning as she searched for the relief only he could provide. “Touch my pussy, Roman. Suck my nipples while you fuck me with your fingers.”
“God, you have the filthiest mouth.” For a moment, he tilted up so he could cover her lips with his. His kiss told her that he loved everything about her mouth, including how dirty it could be.
He caressed her with his tongue. She parried back, drowning in the sensation while he shifted to one side and slid his hand between her legs. Gently, he bit her bottom lip, sucking it behind his teeth as his fingers eased under the edge of her barely there thong.
Gus couldn’t move. Roman pinned her legs open with his big body. He’d trapped her arms with the sleeves of her dress. He’d tied her up as neatly as if he’d had a rope. “I want to touch you.”
“You are,” he whispered. “Your lips are touching mine. Give me your tongue again.”
She opened her mouth and drank him in. It wasn’t enough. “I want to touch you with my hands. I want to touch you the way you’re touching me.”
He slipped the pad of one finger over her clit. “Later. If you touch me now, I might come in your hand, and that’s not how I see this evening ending. Tell me you don’t want this.”
He rubbed her, his fingers moving easily over her sensitive button because she was wetter than she’d been in forever. He sank one finger inside her, teasing her inner walls while his thumb on her clit did terrible, destructive things to her self-control.
“You know I do.” She couldn’t lie about that. Later, she could make up some excuse about not having sex in forever, but right now she couldn’t turn him away. “Are you going to give it to me, Roman?”
She didn’t merely want it. She needed it, had to have it. If he pulled away now, she would freaking scream in frustration. She might lose her mind.
“Fuck, yes. I’m going to give it to you. Then you’re going to give me something.” He kissed her again, their mouths merging in a hot dance.
With perfect precision, he shifted his hand. He added another finger, fucking deep inside her and hooking up to find her sweet spot. He pressed down on her clitoris. Sensations clawed. Gus couldn’t catch her breath. God, she’d been waiting for this—for him—for half a lifetime. And when he rubbed her insistently, silently demanding she surrender her pleasure to him, she could do nothing but close her eyes, give in to him, and hurtle over the sharp, sweet edge.
Gus let the orgasm crash through her system. Her body pulsed. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as the release overtook her, wracking her, undoing her.
This was what she needed. Not simply the sex, but the overwhelming dominance Roman brought to the bedroom. She didn’t have to think, just follow his lead. No one else in the world gave her that. In everyone else’s bed, she’d always been the leader. In their work lives, Gus would never even think about giving in to Roman, but in his arms? Here she could just let go and take the pleasure he gave her. All she had to do in return was give him everything he wanted.
She was beyond ready.
“Fuck, Augustine. Oh, you feel so good. You’re so damn hot. Gorgeous. Look at you,” he whispered. “Give me more. Give me what I want. Scream for me all night.”
She was too far gone to reply, much less argue. She wasn’t going to send him to bed alone, not when she could be with him. His fingers had provided relief, but she knew that climax would be nothing compared to the heights his glorious cock could take her. She ached to spend the rest of the night underneath him, his body working over hers, connecting them in a way they hadn’t been for too many years. “I will, Roman. You know I can.”
“Good,” he said slowly, his hand still gently working over all her tingling spots, creating pleasurable aftershocks. “Don’t talk to that Secret Service agent again. Tell me you’ll stay away from him ent
irely and you’ll keep Liz out of trouble.”
His soft words washed over her like a bucket of freezing water. She turned them over again in her head. Had he just used her desire against her to get something he wanted out of bed? “What?”
He nuzzled her neck, his tone still low and seductive. “That’s all I want. You and Liz safe and out of trouble. You don’t need to hang out with Kemp. Keep your distance from him and I’ll take care of you whenever you need something.”
When she needed sex.
Damn it. She’d been naive to assume that Roman could—or would—put aside his scheming simply to be with her. Bitterness welled. She knew the sort of man he was, but the minute he’d touched her, her brain had flown out the door. She’d let herself become his pawn.
Stupid.
“Get off me.” What had felt like a decadent, wonderful miracle moments ago had become a chilling reminder of all the ways Roman could exploit her—if she let him. She struggled to wriggle her arms free from her sleeves so she could push the bastard away.
Roman’s head lifted, his stare zeroing in on her. “Come on, Augustine. I’m not asking for much. Stay away from that asshole and watch over Liz. How does that make me the bad guy?”
She struggled harder. She heard the dress tear, but it didn’t matter. At least she now could put her hands on his shoulders and force some distance between them. “I forgot that everything is transactional with you, Mr. Calder. I thought our exchange here was mere pleasure, but you’re far too cold for that, aren’t you?”
His jaw formed a stubborn line, his eyes hardening. “You think I’m not hot right now? What the hell do you call this?”
