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He watched me move to the closet then come out dressed. Not climbing back into bed with him, probably not professing my undying devotion to him was going to require more coffee than likely existed in the Starbucks empire.
“Come back to bed.” His voice had that early morning rasp, the only sign Roman Hawthorne was a mere mortal.
But whether he was a deity or not, the answer had to be a firm no. I shook my very confused head. I needed some clarity—only to be had by the light of day—to figure out what I felt for him.
“I have class.” Besides, just a couple days ago, he’d told me that if I got the third strike, he would kill me?Let’s not find out.Well, he hadn’t said he wouldn’t. What did it say about me that I hadn’t made him take it back? I didn’t want to know, but that was one of the questions that continued making my head ache.
“Not until ten.”
I whipped my head around to glare at him. “Are you keeping track of my schedule now?” I didn’t need a babysitter.
He chuckled and sat up against the headboard. “No. You told me last night you have class at ten. You asked me to set an alarm.” He nodded to his phone beside the bed. “It was memorable.” His smug smirk irritated me on a different level.
“Oh. Well, I have class.” I glanced at the clock. Six-twenty. I’d waited in bed as long as I could, not sleeping, brain churning thoughts on a whole other level of anxious.
“Okay.” He moved down to lie in bed again. “I’m going to stay in bed for another couple hours. So, if you change your mind…” He patted my pillow, then closed his eyes.
I picked up my backpack. This jerk could sleep the day away, but I had things to do that didn’t involve him or his bed or his big stupid house. I had a life outside of Roman fucking Hawthorne.
“I know.” His voice was soft behind me. I must’ve ranted the words aloud. I didn’t turn back to him. “Riley.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “What?”
“I’m glad you’re here.” His voice was low, sultry, husky. The kind of come-hither voice that made my insides purr. “And no pressure, but if you want to come back to bed, I’ll make it worth your time.” This guy knew how to be exactly what I needed every single minute of my day. When I wanted him to be sweet and kind, he was. When I wanted the excitement and adventure, he was beside me. When I wanted danger, he put the gun in my hand. I guessed dealing with him being an asshole about the Society was the price for my admission to that ride.
“Worth my time?” Oh, he definitely knew how to do that. And I considered it. Looked at the bed more than once while I resolved to go to the library and study.
He kicked the blanket down, and his cock lay proud and hard against his belly. To say he was endowed would be an understatement. He was blessed, and I was lucky for it. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft and stroked, the head glistening with moisture. I licked my lips and moaned like I could already taste him.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away, and he watched me watch him. I didn’t want to be the girl who gave in just because this guy had a giant dick and knew how to use it. I wanted to be tough, stay pissed off because he implied that for the Society’s sake, he would kill me.
The return of that thought pushed my lust to the background, and I turned back to stuff my shit into my backpack. He groaned, then grunted, then sighed. But the bastard smiled when I shifted to look at him.
“Satisfied, are you?” I hoped so. Because even though I wasn’t looking, knowing what he was doing set my motor running and now, coming back to bed was more a yearning than just a disposable thought.
He nodded and winked. “I’m pretty fucking good at that.”
I knew exactly what he was good at. Had vivid fucking memories of his particular talents. And there were many.
My panties were already wet, and this train of thought wasn’t helping.
“Can I see you tonight?” The timbre of his voice worked its way through me.
“I live in your house.” And once again, I wondered why.
He stood and walked into the bathroom, naked and glorious, came out, and still, I hadn’t moved, hadn’t slung the backpack over my shoulder. Jesus. I should’ve just taken my clothes off as soon as he asked me to come back to bed. Delaying what we both already knew was going to happen was just stupid.
And it didn’t make me weak. Didn’t make me less of a progressive, modern woman. It made me a woman who appreciated good sex with a hot guy blessed with a massive dick. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And when he walked out of the bathroom to find me naked and lying on the bed, his smile meant he was happy about it, not smug.
He stalked across the floor but didn’t climb into bed with me. Instead, he stood at the edge of the mattress and stared down, branding me with his eyes.
He didn’t speak, didn’t command, simply bent and took my nipple into his mouth as he guided my hips so my legs dangled off the side, one next to each of his thighs as he bent over me, then kissed his way across to my opposite nipple.
My back arched off the bed at the exquisite sting when he nibbled, then soothed with a gentle swirl of his tongue. He moved down my body and knelt between my legs, pulled me to the edge and swiped his tongue over my clit.
I gasped, and he continued licking even as he arranged my legs over his shoulders. He slid his finger inside me, twisted and dragged it out, down to my ass then back again, all the while licking me until I couldn’t do more than gasp his name.
