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“Not a laughing matter, Peyton,” he growls, and rubs his growing erection against my stomach.
“No, not a laughing matter at all,” I say, my voice husky as his lips find mine. “And I suppose we have a few minutes,” I say, stepping back. He reaches for me, but I dodge him.
“What are you doing?”
“I was thinking. We do have about a half hour before our reservation, and if you’re fast—”
“I can be fast,” he says, and I bite my lip to stop my chuckle as my entire body heats up.
I move to the back of the sofa. “I guess if we need to do this quickly, it’s a good thing I don’t have any panties on to get in my way.”
Raw need shimmers around him like an aura. “You’re kidding me.”
“Would I kid about something like that?” I lean over the sofa and lift my dress, exposing my body to him.
“Shit, Peyton. I’ll take over your job every day if it means I get to come home to this.”
I laugh. “Roman?”
I glance at him over my shoulder and my body quakes as he licks his lips, his eyes zeroing in on my sex as I spread my legs. “Yeah?”
“I believe you said something about bending me over a table and burying yourself inside me.” The sound of his zipper releasing curls around me. “This isn’t a table but...” I swallow as his crown breaches my wet sex, and my fingers curl into the fabric of the sofa as he powers into me. “Oh my God.”
He pumps and grips my hips for leverage, burying himself to the hilt. I love the way he loves my body, the impatience in his touch like he can’t get enough of me, like he can’t get deep enough. I know the feeling.
“Jesus, girl, why are you so hot and wet?”
“Maybe because I was thinking about you thrusting into me like this all day.”
He pants and grunts, his hot breath on my flesh as he slams into me. “Were you home touching yourself, wishing it was my cock inside you?”
“I wanted to, but I wanted to save my orgasm for you.”
“You want to come, Peyton. You want to come for me?”
“Uh-huh,” is all I can manage to say as he rides me, fast and hard, blunt strokes meant to get the job done. There’s no choreographed moves with this man, no time for the finesse this afternoon. No, he’s here on a mission, his sole focus on getting us both off. Damned if I don’t like that.
I’m so slick and aroused, he slides in and out of me smoothly, the skin-on-skin friction creating an even deeper intimacy between us. After the night we forgot to use a condom, there was no sense going back.
“Yes,” he groans, his body all muscle and power as he takes me hard and fast. He slides a hand around me and touches me where I need it most. I jerk against his probing fingers, and a groan tumbles from my throat. “You like that, babe? You like when I take you from behind like this?”
“Yessss,” I hiss.
“Tonight, when we go out, you’re going to sit there all sweet and prim but we’ll both know you’ll still be feeling me inside you.”
“Roman,” I cry out, and he leans in and digs his teeth into my neck. The second he does, I feel myself lose all control, chanting his name over and over as I come.
“Oh shit,” he moans against my flesh, and his hands go back to my hips. With each hard thrust we work toward his orgasm now, and I move with him, my sex muscles clenching and unclenching around his hardness. His breath catches, his fingers bruise my hips, and I let loose a cry as he fills me with his hot release. He pulses inside me, his muscles hard against my soft flesh as he rides out the bliss. As I revel in the pleasure coursing through me, he falls over my back.
“Peyton, Jesus,” he says as he pants against my flesh. “I loved coming home to this,” he adds, and nibbles my ear.
“I loved it, too,” I say, my heart hitching, warning me to be careful here, not to let this man into sealed-off places, even though it’s too late for that. I’m in big trouble here.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Roman
I GLANCE AROUND the cozy Italian restaurant in the middle of downtown St. Julian’s. “You picked my favorite restaurant, you know.”
