She'd been equally cautious about eating breakfast—washing the dishes, drying them, putting them away, and leaving everything exactly as it had been before. She didn't change the blinds in the study or turn on the lights, because who would have done it if Roan were out with Tristan?
The sounds indicated someone was removing boots and coat. Straining her ears didn't help her determine if it was one person or two. She kept her breathing as quiet as possible, and two or three minutes passed without hearing additional noises.
Muted footsteps approached in the hallway, and Clarissa pretended she was invisible underneath the desk.
“Clarissa?” a voice belonging to Roan and not Tristan asked from the hall. “He's gone.”
She didn't move from the desk, even though she could hear him entering the room. “How sure are you?”
“Pretty sure because I watched him drive away...”
Moving cautiously, she unfolded from under the desk, peeking her eyes over the top. Roan leaned on the open door jamb, his eyes following her emergence with admiration.
Despite having to semi-hide for hours, it warmed her top to bottom. This glorious man found her boring, non-sexy lounging clothes ridiculously sexy, it seemed.
“God.” He crossed the room and kissed her, his deliciously muscular and firm body molding her into him. In these past nine months, she had never tried of the intensity in his amber eyes when they fixed on her. “Where were we?”
His lips plundered hers, and she detected an unfamiliar sweet taste in his mouth. Experimentally, she licked the edge of his lips, making him groan. “Daddy, what have you been drinking?”
“Shooting star mimosas? Like it?” He guided her to straddle him on his desk chair. To position her better, he braced her against the edge of the desk, avoiding her phone and laptop next to his computer.
“I do. Should I be worried you and Tristan had female company while you were on the prowl?” She had no doubts about Roan's faithfulness. However, Tristan had a tendency to invent his own spontaneous fun and rope Roan into it.
“Nope. I'm a rebel. A ronin?” He pushed the camisole straps downward, lowering her neckline a few inches.
She pressed a hand into his chest. “A ronin?”
He lifted her hand, and his next move was to strip off his shirt. Keeping hold of her fingers, he set her hand on the warm sinews of his tattoo. “Yes, a ronin. A masterless samurai. A man alone, no family, no ties, only out for himself. Takes no orders, breaks his own path in the world.”
Since he accompanied the words with a thrust of his hips, she rubbed into his erection and his tattoo. “You can't be mastered and want to master me?”
“Want to more than master you. Want to own you. All mine.” He brought their mouths close together, teasing his breath to hers. “Maybe I should pour one over you and lick it right off this lovely skin that's mine.”
“You should,” she encouraged him. He was allowed to take almost any liberty he wanted, sexually speaking.
Because he was Daddy Roan. Her ronin.
“This'll be a first. Boozed sex,” Roan commented.
“A first? You've already done body shots on me. Several times.” Their June one night stand had involved more than one creative use of alcohol.
“I've never been more buzzed than you,” he pointed out, as he usually prized his control. Which meant he trusted her enough to call him out if he crossed any line.
“How buzzed are you?” She definitely could get used to him using her thoroughly... and a little rough.
Less control wasn't necessarily bad.
“Mostly an F10.929, but not a F10.922.”
She laid her hands on his shoulders, fake-shaking him. “Chief Marin, that is not a direct answer. ICD10 codes are not communication.”
“Intoxication unspecified is 929. Perceptual disturbance skirts 922. I’m only intoxicated. No altered perception,” Roan licked her neck. “Lesson learned. No more drinking with Tank.”
Her phone, as if it heard them, began to vibrate. She twisted around and saw Tristan's phone number. “Why is he calling me? He never calls me.”
Her ronin, not quite as masterless, had the grace to look ashamed. “He found your mitten. I might have implied I was dating your roommate Willow.”
“What?” The phone vibrated again and she opted to answer it in a completely different brighter tone. “Hi there, big stupid brother.”
