Cousins: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance(42)

"We just ate you frackin' Neanderthal! You can't possibly be hungry."

"Frackin'?" Roman lets out a thunderous laugh. "Did you just say frackin'?"

"What of it." I say defensively.

"That's a curse word from Battlestar Galactica if I recall. Damn you really are a nerd."

He's laughing so hard now that I swear I just saw a tear roll down the side of his face. He's seriously a jerk. I don't know why I even bother.

"Only another fellow nerd would recognize the term asshole." I say with venom.

"Unless I was fucking a nerd who used to watch the SciFi channel on the weekends, and I picked it up from her."

"And how would a man who doesn't do seconds know what a woman was watching on TV over the weekends?"

"Food Duchess." He says in an obvious effort to avoid that particular question. "I want to eat dinner before we go. Juliette made pot pies."

I grin because I know I won that verbal sparring.

"All right I'll be there in fifteen. Or maybe I won't. Maybe skipping a meal will do wonders for my ass since you seem so concerned about the size of it."

"Missing just one meal isn't going to do the trick cousin," he laughs heartily.

I really want to laugh too, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he's funny. So I do what any immature kid would do, and look for the closest thing I can find (one of my Ugg boots) and throw it as forcefully as I can at Roman's beautiful buzzed-cut head. Not the most effective weapon since they're made out of sheepskin, but it was better than nothing. I would have hit him square between the eyes if he hadn't suddenly blocked it and batted it down like some sort of ninja. Of course he would have quick reflexes. Why wouldn't he? He's built just like a frackin' UFC fighter.

"You missed." He sticks out his tongue at me like the four-year-old I'm learning he can be too.

I roll my eyes at him, and then suddenly something in the air changes.

Without warning Roman strolls inside my room, shuts my door, and sits on the edge of the bed next to me. It was easy to hold my own when he was standing in my doorway, but now that he's literally two inches away from my semi-dressed body, I feel a bit less sure of myself.

He gently touches a few strands of my hair, curls them around his fingers, and uses them to softly brush across his bottom lip. I'm staying stock still. It's the second time that I am able to see his entire tattoo, but this time around, I study it. He's so close to me, I can't help it. It's a beautiful tribal mosaic that swirls and curves around the length and width of his back and travels up the left side of his neck where it ends. You can tell that it was painstakingly designed and executed, and frankly it takes my breath away. That and the fact that he is touching me again.

"What are you doing?" I ask nervously while I quickly sit up straighter and pull my massive head of hair out of his hands and into the neatest top-knot I can. That was a mistake though. When I lift up my arms, the movement raises my breasts up higher and directly in his line of vision. He gazes almost hungrily at my breasts then looks back to my face with a thirst in his eyes that makes me shiver.

"Duchess–"

"Yes?" I immediately respond.

He stops as we both look across at ourselves in the mirror above my dresser. Both of us very still as a moment of silence passes between us. I can no longer hold his stare and am looking away from him when he suddenly pulls my knotted hair free.

"I like your hair down."

My panties are sopping wet now.

He wraps his hand around the base of my throat and uses his thumb to slowly stroke my bottom lip.

Back and forth until my lips part.

He pushes his thumb inside my mouth, and I foolishly shut my eyes and then close my lips around it and suck. I didn't mean to, it was just a natural reaction to the fire he is stoking inside of my body.

"Lie down Duchess." He says closely by my ear.

He picks up my laptop and places it gently on my nightstand. His hand begins to slowly drag down my neck and to my chest where he begins to rub one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. All his movements are painstakingly slow, fluid and careful. He knows a woman's body, and I can tell that he is trying to study mine.

When he moves to the left nipple, the sensation I feel multiplies tenfold because that breast has always been more sensitive than the other. Now my hips start to rise up like they have a mind of their own. Moving. Flexing. Begging for Roman to relieve me of the ache that is snowballing between my legs.

He rolls and tugs, rolls and tugs, until he hears a slight gasp from me. Then his hand continues on its downward path. And I realize immediately that this is the moment right here. The moment where I have a decision to make. If I allow him to slide his hand inside my panties where I know he's headed, there will be no coming back from that.