Roman-1(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(43)

I don’t stop. I keep sucking and licking at him till I feel the wet slide of my juices coating my thighs and he goes tense beneath me. I’m still enjoying the heck out of myself when he suddenly pulls me up and beneath him and pushes home with one mighty thrust that fills me in a single stroke.

“I love you, Melissa Dobson.”

Then he really starts moving above me, and I know that no matter what I decided, Roman Lane will always be the man for me.

***

“I need to go to work, Roman.”

“No.”

He goes back to his computer, cursing and scowling when he doesn’t get the results he’s looking for.

I’ve been trapped here in the house either tooling around aimlessly or being dogged by his shadow at every turn, and it’s starting to make me nuts.

I hate being idle and I really hate knowing that I’m a hostage here. Again. Just like I was at the cabin before I decided to go against His Highness’s orders.

It’s been three freaking days since I moved into his suite of rooms, and I’m starting to get cabin fever like you wouldn’t believe.

Now the bar is no hotspot of social byplay, but at least there I don’t have every Lane family member watching my every move with their alert eyes and coddling ways.

Even my Roman is starting to smother me, and that’s not something I ever thought he’d do.

He’s been this overprotective Neanderthal, and I’m about ready to start sniffing out a gun if he doesn’t quit it.

“I need to go to work, Roman. Being cooped up here is not healthy. Why, Tracy told me that Ellie actually used to be normal before your brother locked her away in her golden tower, and even Tracy is starting to ask about openings at the bar. This is too much.”

I see his shoulders tense before he turns and levels me with a steady gaze that has my nerves firing in all directions.

“You want to go to work?”

“Yes. Please. You know it’s safe there. I have my shotgun under the bar and Will watches me every second.”

That gets him riled and I roll my eyes with a curse.

“You know Will is like a brother. Or a weird cousin. Whatever. He’s family and he’ll keep me safe. And before you start digging your own grave, do not even think of saying that’s your job, because it isn’t. It’s mine and I aim to do my job well since I’m pregnant. Just please—”

“Fine. I’ll take you in and work from the bar. Just don’t say I didn’t try to warn you, Mel. If Will Sparrow starts flirting with you again—”

“You’ll ignore it because you’re my friend,” I hiss at him with narrowed eyes.

My words earn me a death glare and I hear him mutter beneath his breath about stubborn-ass females and the evils of pregnancy.

“Oh no, sugar, this,” I say, indicating my fine self, “is all me. You knew that before we got together and you know it now, so don’t go blaming the baby juice for my nasty tongue. Now come on, I’m going to be late.”

We get to the bar a good ten minutes late and I hear him make a vile reference to blonds when I walk in and Will starts smiling like a loon.

“Darlin’, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. Come on over here and give me some sugar,” he coos, opening his arms wide for a hug.

“If by sugar you mean a kick to the gonads, I am so there, William,” I coo back, enjoying Roman’s evil chuckle and the sound of Will’s disgruntled sighing.

“Fine then. Oh hey, Lane. Good to see you again, man.”

Roman grunts for the millionths time since we left the house and I feel my eye twitch when he gives me a pointed look and turns to Will.

“The feeling could be mutual, Sparrow, if you keep your nasty ass away from my…friend,” he warns.

“Huh?”

“Oh for God’s sake. William, stay on your side of the bar and leave Roman alone, and Roman, you just simmer down or I’ll have Lonnie take you out back for a good hose down. Now stop standing around like two gorillas and take a seat, gentlemen. I have a job to pretend to do and I don’t want another fight or I’m loading that shotgun for real this time.”





Chapter Fourteen


Roman

The woman is back in full swing after the last few days of enforced isolation, a plan I played to perfection when she woke up the morning after the best sex of my life, looking like someone pissed in her milk.

I hate that fucking look she gets and I hate even more when she can’t tell me what she’s feeling because she’s so new to this sharing stuff that she can’t quite name or place her emotions.

All I know is that when Mel is happy, she’s the most insulting goddess I ever met. When she isn’t she’s practically mute. So I did the only thing I could think of to get her out of her funk. I pissed her off.