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Ruby didn’t know. Her thoughts were all a jumble when it came to Roman…
Did she really not know his last name? She thought about it, tried to remember if he’d mentioned it.
But no. She didn’t think so. It hadn’t come up.
Was that weird?
She took a deep breath and reached for the remote, told herself to calm down. She could have something good. She wasallowedto have something good.
She muted the volume on the TV and eased off the sofa.
Olivia mumbled in her sleep, her cheeks pink, and flung a small arm out of the blanket, her fist curled like when she was a baby.
Her baby girl.
Ruby’s heart practically exploded looking at her. Being a parent was exhausting at times.
All-consuming.
But Olivia had taught her what it meant to be alive, to love someone more than she loved herself.
She picked up the plates smeared with chocolate frosting and carried them to the sink, rinsing them and setting them to soak before turning back to the peonies, sitting in all their glory on the table.
Had he chosen red because of her name?
She liked to think so. He was uncommonly thoughtful, and he’d been gentle with her in bed even though she sensed that he’d been holding back. Her old sexual appetites had roared to life, but she was grateful he’d taken it slow because he had the biggest cock she’d ever seen.
She hadn’t had a chance to tell Brooke that part. Not that Brooke would care — she’d had exactly two boyfriends in high school before she’d come out as a lesbian — but Ruby still wouldn’t put it past her sister to hand her a measuring tape and insist on a number.
Despite the fact that she’d given birth to Olivia, Ruby had been worried he would break her, but once she’d adjusted, it had been pure ecstasy. It was one thing to have a giant dick — it was something else to know how to use it.
And Roman definitely knew how to use it.
Her pussy pulsed at the memory of him stroking inside of her, filling her up, the base of his cock rubbing against her clit while he held on to her hips and sucked her tits.
Fuck. She felt sweaty.
Horny.
This was new. She didn’t do horny. Not in years.
There’d been a time when she’d been crazy for sex. She’d even liked to play rough — something Adam loved to throw in her face when she pointed out his abuse, as if choosing to do something for pleasure was the same thing as having someone hurt you without your permission.
But years of his criticism — his abuse — had dampened her sex drive. It wasn’t fun to have sex when it was always an apology or a tool of pacification.
Sex with Roman had been raw and surprisingly uncomplicated. Not because she didn’t like him (she liked him too much already) but because there had been no baggage between them.
No pain, emotional or otherwise.
Was it because they didn’t really know each other? Were relationships — real ones, lasting ones — destined to be complicated because they always involved pain in some form or another?
Or was it possible to truly love someone over the long haul? To nurture and cherish them? To work through problems in a way that didn’t hurt? To still get lost in each other’s bodies when you’d argued over whose turn it was to load the dishwasher?
She didn’t know. Her parents had been married for fifteen years when her mother had died, but Ruby hadn’t been old enough to observe her parents’ relationship as an adult.
She sighed and walked to the sofa to move Olivia to her bed. This was why she hadn’t been interested in dating. Her life was already more complicated since Roman had entered it.
But it was already fuller too, her heart skipping a beat when she saw his name light up her phone, the flush of long-dead desire flooding her body when she remembered what it had been like to fuck him.
