He cracked a smile, tugging on his jeans with his thumbs, probably to relieve the strain of his towering dick against the denim. “I told you I'm sorry for the shit that came down before. I'm making it right. I'm gonna build this family into something real, damn it, and I'll spend every waking minute fucking the shit outta you if that's what it takes.”
“You can't control me with sex,” I snapped. “I don't want anything to do with you like that right now.”
But my body does, I thought, pinching my legs together and feeling the wetness his touch had left behind.
So strange to be annoyed and a little turned on by his brash words. Then again, contrasts were the norm with Roman. The sooner I learned to deal with them without losing my sanity, the better.
“You think I want control? You think I wanna drag you to my cave and fuck you without any say?” He stepped toward me, not stopping until my nipples brushed the hungry bear tattooed on his chest again. “You're flat out wrong, babe. Having you like a dead fish won't do shit for me. I want you to fucking want this 'til your heart stops. I want you to beg for my come again, Sally. If you're not ready for this shit, fine. I'll put a leash on my dick and keep teasing 'til you are.”
Hot sweat beaded on my skin. I ripped myself away from him, ducking to get away, before my body mutinied and I spread my legs wide open for him on the counter like he'd wanted.
“Roman.” I looked up, forcing myself to meet his dark brown eyes. “Don't. We can't do this. We can't make another big mistake. Not when I barely even know who the hell you are.”
The arrogant smirk on his face melted. “What, you don't have a fucking clue?”
“You know what I mean. We had a few summer weeks of sex and road trips two years ago. We've lived together exactly one day. I don't care if your name's already burned into my skin because you forced it there. You're a walking mystery, and I'm not going to throw myself at you when I don't have a clue if you really mean any of this.”
For a second, his jaw tensed up. I thought he'd explode, maybe reach into the cabinets and start shattering the dishes I'd just spent over an hour neatly organizing. Instead, he looked at the floor and headed for the table, jerking out a chair so fast it screeched across the tile.
“Let's just eat some grub. We've got all day to sort this bullshit out before the club bash this weekend. Everybody'll expect to see you acting like an old lady there. Here, right now, I don't give a fuck.”
That last part drove deep in my chest like a knife. Whatever he'd said about not caring, the sharp tone in his voice said otherwise. With a sigh, I gathered our plates, pushing his toward him.
“What the hell's that supposed to mean, anyway?” He pointed his fork at me. “You think I'm a 'walking mystery?'”
“I don't even know why you went behind bars. Let's start there,” I said, nervously stabbing at my eggs. “And I swear to God, if I hear the words 'club business,' I'm going to –“
“I was covering somebody else's ass, babe. It was a bad run,” he said slowly.
I blinked, struggling to shake off my disbelief as I realized he was actually telling me something.
“The club was running arms, special shit we picked up at the start of our beef with the cartel. That bastard Fang, the old Prez, ran the armory too low. He'd spread us thin, fighting other clubs, leaving us in no condition to deal with a threat as big as the Mexicans.
“We were desperate to replenish our shit, get our ducks in a row to fight. The convoy stopped in Redding after pickup north, and I was on escort down to San Diego. We stopped along the way at this biker bar. Some of the other numbnuts got into it with a rival crew there, this club from Texas, passing through our territory.
“They raised a fuck of a commotion, and the local sheriff came roaring in before we could hit the road. Somebody had to stay behind, throw them a fucking bone, make the cops think they hadn't missed half a dozen trucks filled to the gills with illegal guns. I took full responsibility for damaging the bar, fucking up ten guys. Really, I only beat the shit outta five. Some of the boys on that run were bastards, and I'm glad they're gone now, but I did it for the part of the club worth saving. I did it to fight the cartel.”
My heart pounded. I could barely remember to eat. Slowly, I reached across the table, grabbing his hand, running my fingers through his.
“They threw the book at me over the fight, and for finding a couple grenades and magnums with their serial numbers filed off in my saddlebag. I did two years for a brotherhood that was fucked up 'til I got out. I wasn't sure about the club then, but I was damned sure the cartel was worse. I couldn't let 'em have an open path to Redding. If they'd gotten up here sooner, they would've fucked up your ranch that much faster, and I wouldn't have been around to help.”