Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
He didn’t look up. “Go back to bed, Effie.”
“Why are you sitting in the dark?”
He barked a laugh. “People like me love the dark.”
I pushed the bottle over and sat on the coffee table in front of him. “People like you?”
He drained the glass of scotch. “People like me,” he repeated, his voice emotionless.
I switched on the light beside him, and Roman cursed and covered his eyes for a moment, then sat back with a sigh. I studied him. He had left earlier wearing a suit. Now he was in a T-shirt and sweats, his hair damp. He’d obviously had a couple of glasses of scotch, if not more. His expression was tormented, his body tense. I wasn’t sure what to do or say, surprised at how intense the need to comfort him was. I slid down onto my knees between his splayed legs and ran my hands over his thighs, wanting him to know I was here.
“Roman,” I murmured. “What is it? Tell me what you need.”
He met my gaze. Torment didn’t begin to cover the expression in his dark green eyes. Fury, agony, distress—they were all there. Plus, a vulnerability I’d never seen before this moment. He was in conflict—at war with an invisible foe I knew nothing about.
Our eyes locked and held, and suddenly he leaned down, cupping my face. His touch was gentle, his thumbs working circles on my skin. He was close enough our lips almost touched. My breathing picked up, and I felt the heat rise between us.
“What do I need, Little Tiger? I need the one thing I can’t have,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
“Which is?”
“You. I fucking need you.”
I swallowed at the desire I heard in his words. “And you hate that.”
“Yes. But it’s true. I fucking need you more than I need to breathe.” He brushed his mouth over mine. “Tell me I can have you. Don’t deny me,” he pleaded, a tone to his voice one I hadn’t expected from him. It tore at my soul, and I couldn’t deny him.
“Yes,” I whispered.
In an instant, he pulled me to his lap, his mouth covering mine. He kissed me like a desperate man needing oxygen and I was the only lifeline. He held me tight, his hands restless, sliding under the shirt I was wearing, roaming over my back, cupping my ass, pressing me close. His cock was a hard ridge between us. He stood in one fluid movement and carried me down the hall, depositing me on the bed, our mouths never separating.
He pulled back, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it away. He pushed his sweats down, then in one rough movement, tore the shirt I was wearing up the middle and fisted my underwear, ripping them off my body. He lifted me to the middle of the bed and stared down at me. He breathed deeply, his chest working fast. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. His cock jutted out, making me whimper in need.
“So. Fucking. Exquisite.”
He crawled up the mattress, and I expected him to attack. To fuck me hard. But once again, Roman Costas surprised me. His mouth gentled, kissing me long and deep, sweeping his tongue in and exploring me. His touches were languid, tender, but no less passionate. He kissed his way down my body, teasing me with his tongue and fingers. He brought me to a shuddering climax with his mouth, then positioned himself over me, our eyes locking as he notched himself inside me.
“Mine,” was all he said.
His movements were slow. Teasing. His thrusts powerful, steady, and intense. He played my body like a violin, and he was the conductor, coaxing noises and responses from me I didn’t know I was capable of. My orgasm was quick, and I cried out. He only smiled and held himself over me, riding it out.
“That, Little Tiger, is only the start.”
ROMAN
I pulled down my shirt sleeves, making sure my cuff links were in place. At the doorway of the closet, I paused, staring at Effie. It was barely seven, and she was asleep, curled up in my bed, her dark hair a mess from my hands, love bites on her neck and shoulders. I knew if the blanket weren’t there, I would find them on her breasts and thighs as well. Something about this sweet woman made me want to mark her. I lost myself in unbridled passion whenever our bodies were close.
I’d had her three times in the night. Twice in the bed and once in the shower. Each time had been incredible—unlike any sex I had ever experienced. It was profound on a level I didn’t understand and didn’t want to delve into at the moment.
I wasn’t sure I would like the things I discovered.
I left quietly, not wanting to disturb her. If she woke up and I kissed her, I wouldn’t leave this room. We needed a conversation, and I wasn’t sure how it would play out. I’d planned on talking to her last night. Instead, I’d made love to her for hours, leaving us both sated and exhausted.