Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
"Jesus Christ," he mutters, leaning up to rip his shirt off over his head.
I writhe beneath him, riding out the waves.
The doorbell rings.
Roman swears loudly, whipping his head around. He glances at the door and then back down at me, his expression feral. "Do not fucking move," he mutters to me before pulling himself to his feet and then stomping toward the front door. He doesn't put his shirt back on.
I hear him shuffling around, probably looking out the peephole, and then he curses again, disarms the alarm, and yanks the door open. I don't even try to cover myself. Whoever is out there can't see me unless they come inside the house, and I'm completely blissed out. I'm still gasping for breath as electric shocks continue to ping through my body. I've never come so quickly or so easily before. It feels amazing.
I close my eyes, smiling as Roman talks to whoever's at the door. His deep voice is hard and irritated. I don't think he's thrilled about being interrupted. He says something else and then another male voice responds, talking so quietly I can't make out what he says either.
I just lay there, letting Roman's deep voice roll over me. There's an edge of irritation in his tone as he growls at whoever interrupted us. I love the way he talks. His voice is dark and rumbling, reminding me a little bit of the way wild animals grumble and growl. He can be downright intense sometimes, but he's playful and sweet at other times. Regardless of his mood, that voice is sexy as hell.
Tahani used to tell me that he's just a big teddy bear. She's kind of right.
Crap. Tahani.
What am I going to do about her? Should I go see her when I'm in Sacramento next week? Should I leave it alone and let her come to me when she's ready to talk? Is she ever going to talk to me again? Or to her dad?
My stomach roils again, nausea creeping back in as questions rapidly fire through my mind. I pop my eyes open and stare up at the ceiling, worrying my bottom lip as I try to decide what to do. The truth is…I'm terrified that she's never going to forgive me for being with Roman.
"Thanks," Roman says, his tone still hard, and then the door closes. He flips the lock and then calls out to me.
I sit up and peek over the back of the couch at him.
"Dinner's here, baby." His gaze sweeps over me, his eyes still dark and heated. He bites his lip and then shakes his head, his expression soft. "So fucking sexy," he mutters under his breath. "Come to the kitchen so I can feed you."
My stomach churns at the thought of food, but I drag myself up off the couch, adjust my top, pull my skirt back down over my ass, and then follow behind him.
By the time I get to the kitchen, he's already pulling containers of Chinese food out of the bags and setting them on the counter-high oak table. The thing is huge, but it looks like an ordinary table beside him.
I go to the fridge and get him a beer and a bottle of water for me before grabbing plates and making my way to him.
When I hold his beer out to him, he pulls me up against him and kisses the side of my head. I wrap an arm around his waist and squeeze before climbing up into my chair and surveying the containers spread across the table. It looks like he ordered one of everything on the menu. My stomach still churns, and the strong smells make it worse.
I scoop out a little fried rice and an eggroll.
Roman heaps his plate full before digging in.
I take a few bites, and then push the rice around on my plate, still thinking about Tahani.
What am I going to do?
"Mila."
"Hmm?"
I glance up to find Roman frowning at me. His plate is empty, as are about half the containers strewn around the table. I look at the clock on the stove to find that it's fifteen until seven, and we've been sitting at the table for almost an hour.
"What's going on, baby?" he asks, reaching out to drag my chair closer to his. It screeches loudly across the tile, but he ignores the sound until I'm right in front of him, one of his hands against my cheek. His somber expression and the obvious worry in his hazel eyes make it clear that he's not going to let me distract him this time.
"I have to go to Sacramento on Sunday," I whisper, watching his face as he studies me as intently as always. "There's a conference my boss wants me to attend with them. I'll be there until Wednesday morning."