“Don’t give me time to reconsider.”
He pulls back and meets my eyes. “No. That’s not how this will be between us. If we’re doing this, it’s real. It’s not some rebound moment or awe’ll pretend it never happenedthing. We won’t do this and divorce from it later. I won’t be your regret. It’s why I didn’t kiss you that night all those years ago.”
I blink at him, but before I can question that, he sits me up and shifts me until my legs are dangling.
The truth is, I want him. I do. I know I do. I want him to fuck me hard. I want him to take me to the edge and push me over it so I can see if I fall or fly. But I’m also scared, and frankly, I need a minute to figure this shit out since it all just kind of came on me quickly. And no, that’s not a pun.
I rise to my feet, and he steps back, knocking the chair and causing it to slide across the tile floor until the back feet catch on the grout line and it stops. I’m completely naked, and he’s very much aware of that as his eyes dip and seek and smolder. I’ve never been shy and I’m not all that self-conscious either, but having Roman’s eyes on me is an experience I wasn’t prepared for, and I can feel my face heating. I take a step forward, but because this is Roman, he doesn’t step back. He’s a wall. Strong, formidable, protective.
I touch his chest, his skin hot and his muscles unyielding. But beneath them is his heart, and there’s something so oddly sexy and human about it that it has me smiling. Pushing him back, I force him to take three steps back until he’s sitting in the chair. He’s quiet—as he often gets when he’s thinking seriously about something—but his gaze casts up to mine.
“What are you doing?”
I shake my head and stand here, waiting on… I don’t know. Something.
A sexy smirk curls up his lips, and he quirks a finger at me. “Come here, kid.”
It’s a weird nickname. He started calling me it after I forced him to watch Casablanca one night.“Here’s looking at you, kid,”he’d said to me, quoting the film, and after that, it stuck. I actually love it. I always have. It makes me feel special. Like his.
With my heart in my throat and my body tingly and filled with nerves, I lower myself to the cold tile floor. It’s about as uncomfortable as the table was, but it also grounds me. I crawl to him, and the effect is immediate. His eyes darken to midnight and his lips part on a silent breath.
“Jesus, Brae. You really know how to get me.”
He sits back in the chair, his hands going to the arms, clutching the wood as he watches me. I reach his thighs and climb up them, my fingers immediately tracking to the band on his boxer briefs.
He brushes some of my curls back from my face. “What are you thinking right now, beautiful?”
“That you got to taste me, and I want to know what you taste like.”
His fingers trickle down my cheek even as he shifts to allow me to remove his briefs. His cock, thick and long and angry-looking, bounces out, the tip gleaming with pre-cum.
“You’re stalling,” he accuses.
“I am now that I see how big you are. No way that’ll fit where you want it to go.”
His lips bounce, but he still gives me a look that tells me he’s waiting for an answer.
“I’m stalling,” I agree while I grip his cock and give it a firm stroke that makes him grunt and his eyes momentarily close. “You know my brain better than I do. Let me do this because it’s what I need right now. I want to do this. I just…”
“I know. Okay.” He swallows and pulls my hair back into a makeshift ponytail. “If I get too rough, raise your hand or tap my thigh twice.”
Holy crap. So much for giving him a simple blow job while I mentally work through the fact that we crossed the line of no return. Though I should have known. Roman isn’t simple. He’s the most complex person I’ve ever known. I’ve heard rumors. The guys joking around with him.
“Do I get a safe word?” I tease.
“Not yet. We’ll get there.”
Oh. Now my heart starts to pound, but a thrill also runs through me like a current, and my empty core clenches. Why is that thought hot?
“Yes, sir,” I quip, but I’ve read it in books, and I like it. The idea of it all.
But before he can respond, I grip his cock tighter and take him all the way down my throat until I gag. He makes a strangled sort of noise and secures his grip in my hair. The fact that I can affect him like this drives me wild. We are talking about Roman Fritz after all. Yes, he’s my best friend, but I’m not stupid or blind. I see the way women follow and track him. Billionaire. Famous chef. Impossible to catch. And let’s not even get into the bad boy boxing thing because the man has groupies he doesn’t even cast a second glance at.
It only adds to the mystery and desire.
“Remember what I said if you need to tap out.”
I won’t tap out. I already know that. My pussy pulses at the thought of him fucking my face. I don’t know where it comes from or even why it turns me on, but it totally freaking does, and it makes me feel bolder. Sexier. Like even though he’s going to be the one in control, it’s actually me who is.