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“Whatever. I don’t care. Down the hall.” Winded, she directs me with the poorest set of directions possible, and I’m flipping lights in the hall looking for the bedroom. I finally find a suitable bed, which I assume is hers because she isn’t protesting, and I toss her gently on the fluffy bedding.
“I care, Abigail. I care a whole damn lot,” I tell her between kisses and pulling clothes from our bodies, but it’s not about the lights or the directions. It’s her and always has been. I yank her pants down with her panties. She pulls my T-shirt up and over my head, running her hands down my chest.
I grab the bandana holding her long hair back only find her golden tresses are… well, they’re gone. I thought they were just wrapped up, but the bandana was merely covering what wasn’t there. Confusion and worry slams into me like surf on rocks. “Abby? What is this?” My fingers run through the shorn locks that now look like fat baby curls haloing her head like a cherub.
“Is it bad? I didn’t want Leah to feel alone since the treatments are so rough. I thought it was something I could share with her.” She grabs my hand and pushes curls off her forehead behind her ears. I assume this is a pretty big deal for her to cut off what probably amounted to pounds of hair. I figure hair is like a girl’s holy grail of some kind. I look at her, running my fingertips over her pale arched brows and brush the curls back. Her eyes dart nervously and she’s biting her lip, unsure.
“It’s beautiful. It’s you.” I kiss her gently and run my fingers through the locks more aware of how important my acceptance of them is to her. I’m not some guy who really gives a shit about a woman’s hair. Did I like it long? Sure I did, but I’m not an asshole to deny my girl her autonomy and the importance of what cutting her hair at a time like this means for her, for her sister, and maybe for both of us.
“You don’t care?” Glassy eyes meet mine and I brush her cheek gently. There’s a fragility in her question I don’t expect from her.
“Never cared much about hair before.” A lie, but a well-meaning one I’d never recant. I certainly don’t care about her hair since it means I have her whole and healthy in my arms. If this is the worst secret we have between us, nothing could tear us apart.
“I donated it to Locks for Love. Leah refused to take it for a wig, so we decided some kids should get it.”
“I’m proud of you, Hollywood.” And I am. She’s not that pop princess I teased her of being.
“I’ve missed this, feeling you, feeling alive.” Abby kisses me again and we struggle to get the rest of our clothes off in a hurried frenzy.
“I don’t want you to feel anything but alive.” We grunt trying to get as close as possible and under each other’s skin, rubbing our bodies together in a delicious friction that heats us from within.
“Roman Winters, I love you,” Abby pants heavily into my ear, biting the lobe with her small sharp teeth.
“I love you more than I thought possible, Abigail Holliday.” I push her back into the mattress and enter her slowly, punishing the absence between us. She whimpers and I thrust unhurriedly again, pulling back and almost leaving her body. Her hips surging upward to keep me close.
Frantically, she tightens her hold on me. “More, not like this. I want more.” She claws my shoulders and I give her more, just enough, but not all I’m holding back. “I know you’re being deliberately obtuse.” She yanks the short hair on the back of my scalp and wraps her legs around my hips, locking her ankles together.
“Be careful what you ask for, counselor,” I tell her, slamming back down, our hips meeting and grinding together. The fullness is acutely sharp and wanting.
“Yes, just like that,” Abby pleads with me, and I’m so far gone I give her everything she demands. Neither of us last long in our first reunion, and I don’t bother to untangle our limbs as we fall into an exhausted slumber.
ABIGAIL
He’s come back to me. Roman actually drove to LA from Gold Beach, just for me like he said he would. A man who keeps his promises is something new for me to experience and shame on me for doubting him in the first place. I have to catch my breath several times before I burst into tears. Loving Roman and keeping a secret from him hurts in equal parts. I want to be with him and keep nothing between us. I fear anything could tip the scale and leave me without him. Guilt and justification have been lonesome bedfellows. The past month was a painful learning experience. Lying amidst the tangled sheets with Roman’s head resting against my breasts, his warm breath tickles me and forces my nipples into hard little points. I run my fingers through his messy hair and sneak a massage of my breast most affected by his puffs of sleeping breaths against my skin.
“Mmmph, mine,” Roman growls, his body vibrates against mine and he pushes my hand away from my breast to kiss the nipple before licking it and covering it with his lips. Sucking until I’m painfully driven and flushed.
“Uhhhh.” I can’t help but moan my excitement and arousal. He sucks me hard, popping the breast from his mouth before leaning up to take the other one in for equal treatment. “Roman.” I grab him by his ears and try to get his face to my lips for a hungry kiss, but he only releases me when he’s good and ready.
“Mine to touch, mine to play with,” he sleepily says before finally kissing me. A knee pushes my legs apart and I feel his cock lengthen against my belly, seeking and pushing forward. He slides against the wetness between my eager thighs in fluid-seeking strokes.
“Yours, only yours,” I assure him and we make lo
ve slowly and reverently—his forehead against mine, fingers threaded in my short hair holding me steady for each pounding thrust of his thick cock. My inner muscles squeeze to hold onto him through the friction. Our eyes lock on each other, not looking away once. I can’t bring myself to close my eyes for fear I’ll miss something. We cry out together and climax on a sweet roller coaster of emotions, riding the high back down to the quiet lull. I’m prepared to give up everything to spend my days with Roman just like this forever.
Spending the day in bed, I text the office manager to say I won’t be coming in. I have an appointment with Oscar Campbell to go over his statement and damn if I just want to forget how deeply sucked in I am to this. Roman is finally here and I want to be greedy and take what I can of our time together. It’s the first day I’ve taken off from my twelve to sixteen hour days since I returned. My billable hours are through the roof working my cases, and I don’t give a shit if the world ends tonight from my momentary lapse. My phone rings off the hook for a bit until Roman picks it up, texting who I can only assume is Lucas before shutting it off and tossing it back on the nightstand to be forgotten.
“Who was it?”
Roman grunts a response before peeling the sheets back, kissing his way down my sensitive stomach. “Were you nice to him?” I query a smirking Roman between my thighs.
“Depends on your definition of nice.” He hugs me tight around my legs and lower, I laugh and wiggle out of his grasp, reaching for a robe to put on.
“Let’s go find some food, sailor.” I slap his butt and he grabs me again, rolling me on the bed.
“I got my sweet breakfast right here.” He tickles me, slipping the robe back off. Loud smacking kisses on my neck and a feast of nipped skin and I am easily relenting into Roman’s embrace.
“Roman!”
