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“Don’t even ask me if it’s okay if you stay. I already told you I wasn’t going to let you leave.”
A thrill travels up my spine, and I glance down to hide how much those words affect me. They shouldn’t, butgods.Why do I like it when he’s demanding and aggressive? Why can I think of nothing else but how I’d like to see more of how dark I know he can be?
Iask to use his shower, and Roman directs me to the ensuite off his bedroom.
The marble walls, floors, and countertops are all spotless and polished, the stone so smooth it’s almost reflective. Fluffy, white towels hang from a rack next to the shower, and the fresh scent of shampoo and conditioner; a pine fragrance fills the air.
Gods—I could die here and be perfectly content.
I cross to the walk-in shower, shedding my clothes as I go. The tiled floor is cool under my bare feet but warms quickly as I turn on the water and steam fills the bathroom.
I step under the spray of the shower head and sigh as warm water pours over me, massaging the tension from my tight muscles. I didn’t realize until this moment how right Roman was—I was stressed.
Reaching for the nearest bottle on the built-in shelf, I tip some body wash into my palm. The smell of pine and eucalyptus fills my nose and my heart pounds against my ribs. I run my hands over my body, covering myself in Roman’s strong, masculine scent.
I wonder what he’s doing in the next room. Is he thinking about me? Thinking about me naked and wet in every possible sense of the word. What would happen if I asked him to come in here with me? Excitement mixes with anxiety, and my hands are still on my stomach.
Although we’ve fooled around some, come close enough to sex that I know we’ll get there eventually—possibly even tonight—everything we’ve done so far has been under the guise of “practice.” It’s a flimsy excuse, I know, but I’m self-aware enough to realize the deniability is making this all easier to process. I can’t find a way to justify shower sex within the context of my own made up, paper-thin guidelines and I don’t know if I’m willing to put myself out there without the barrier between us.
As I’m contemplating this, my eyes pop open at the sound of the door opening. My breath catches, and instinctively I cross my arms, trying to cover myself as a dark shadow appears outside the steamy shower wall. “What—”
The shower door opens, and I shiver slightly as the steam escapes in a woosh, and Roman steps inside.
I guess that answers the question of if he was thinking about me.
Roman closes the door behind him and turns to face me, his gaze raking over me. For a moment, I’m self-conscious, wondering what he thinks of my body. Wondering if I’m too curvy, or my tummy is too soft. But as his eyes graze over me, his eyes flashing with hunger, my anxiety dissipates.
Then, I take a moment to really process what I’m seeing…and holy shit.
I’ve never seen his fully naked body, and while it’s been clear, even under sweaters and jackets, that the man has muscles, I was not at all prepared to see the real thing. He looks like a statue. Or an Instagram model, at the very least. My mouth somehow goes dry and waters simultaneously, and I choke.
Roman laughs, his eyebrow ticking up in what can only be a challenge. “You okay, good girl?”
I shake my head, as surprised by his laughter as his presence. He’s not really a laughing kind of guy—yet right now, he seems oddly…light. “Yeah,” I stammer. “W-what are you doing?”
He takes a step forward, and I’m forced to back up into the wall. “Why do you do that?”
“What?”
The water pours over Roman’s head as he leans forward, looming over me, but he barely seems to notice. “Ask questions you know the answer to.”
My heartbeat pounds in my core, my clit pulsing with anticipation. I run my tongue over my lips. “Maybe I want to hear you say it.”
His eyes flash with heat, “Yeah? You want to hear how hard I was waiting for you? Imagining you in here, just out of reach.” Roman reaches down, spreading my legs apart with one hand and I quiver all over as he rubs soft, gentle circles over my clit. “Or maybe you want to hear all the ways I’m going to make you come? All the ways I can make sure you never forget who owns you.”
I moan, pushing my hips up harder into his hand. “Owns me?”
“Of course, good girl.” He buries his nose in my neck as he whispers in my ear. “Or, I could just show you.”
My mouth falls open in an O. I know it’s a challenge as much as a promise, but something doesn’t sit right. I know what I want instead…part of me is embarrassed to demand anything—to say any of these filthy things out loud, but another part of me wants to own it, and just say what I want—something that, for whatever reason, I only seem to be able to do with Roman.
I lean up on my tip toes, skimming my lips over his collarbone at the same time as I reach out, wrapping my fingers around his shaft. “As long as I get to own you too.”
He jerks, his eyes going wide and serious as he looks down at me. “You already do.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and Roman reaches down, gripping me by the backs of my thighs. He lifts me, pinning my back to the wall, and I twine my legs around his waist. For once, we’re almost nose to nose, and the urge to kiss him is almost unbearable—but that’s one line I can’t cross. Not yet at least. Even though I know it’s as pointless as flapping your arms when falling without a parachute, I need to cling to some shred of hope that I might come out of this alive.
Instead, I press my mouth to his neck, just below his ear. He growls in the back of his throat, reaching between us to line himself up with my entrance. I feel the head of his cock pushing against me as his thumb slides over my clit, and then I gasp.
