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

I used to be the rebellious, smart-mouthed woman who tended bar and hung out with society’s “undesirables.” Roman changed me.

“Hey, Mel, baby girl, you want garlic bread or salad with your pasta?”

I almost jump right out of my skin when Roman’s hot breath skitters over my skin and I turn to see him standing behind me with a grin and a glass of wine that is sorely appreciated after a nine-hour shift over at The Drunken Traveler.

I want the wine, but as his lips touch my nape and the smell of his minty breath hits my nose, all I really want after days of trying to ignore my libido is to kiss those full lips and finally know what a rich Boy Scout tastes like.

We’ve lived together for just over a week and I’ve lost whole nights of sleep as lust raged through me. I even had the urge to seek out one of the shirts (as I call Daddy’s goons) for relief.

I toss and turn most nights and I think I’ve reached my limit. So instead of turning away like I usually do, I look up into those bright blue eyes and do the one thing I swore never to do.

I kiss Roman Lane for all I’m worth.

The first touch is soft and I’ve hardly had the reins for a minute before he’s kissing me for real. His tongue swipes over my lips and demands entry, making the rest of my body burn with need.

The sensation is startling and so welcome that I throw my arms around his neck and pull him closer just as he grabs my ass and squeezes, pulling me up and over his thigh for a ride that soon has me panting and gasping into his mouth.

I’ve had sex before—lots of it as I chased that elusive orgasm that so many women speak of—but I have never experienced this before. Not the heat as he controls my hips and grinds my sensitive sex into the hard muscle of his thigh, and not the clenching sensations that overtake my empty sheath, letting me know that whatever is happening, it’s good and may lead to a climax that I’ve been desperate to taste.

He keeps kissing me through it all and I’m almost lightheaded by the time he wrenches back and stands, gazing down at me. I see his mouth is swollen and wet from my own.

His eyes are a darker blue than usual and the way he keeps licking his lips, as if searching for more of my taste, is such a turn-on.

Roman waits till I meet his eyes before speaking words that have no place in my fantasies.

“Mel, baby girl, are you sure you want this?”

Want this? I don’t freaking want this. I need this. I’ve needed this since the first moment I entered high school and laid eyes on the strapping football captain who had more girls vying for his attention than a One Direction band member.

Oh yeah, I’m that girl, the dorky chick who had stars in her eyes for the handsome hunk with more charm than sense. I’d basically had a crush on the guy since I got my braces off and the only way I survived it was by making friends with the “bad seeds” and wearing enough black to blend in at an Ozzy Osbourne concert.

After he left for college, or whatever Mr. Rich and Popular did, I got to move on, finally, and do what I wanted. Namely going steady with Ricky Graham, the ultimate biker boy.

I’ll just say that sex has never been good for me, no matter how hard I tried to get into it. Until now.

I’ve never felt butterflies and clenching and that slide of moisture that lets me know that lube is a moot point. I’ve never felt desperate and needy and a hundred other sensations that all lead to that one place that I’ve come to loathe for its disinterest.

I feel it all now, though, and all I want is to have him take me to that place of freedom where I finally get to feel like a whole woman.

And he’s asking me if I want this.

“Yes.”

I could probably have been more original and verbose, but I’m still trying to dry hump the man’s leg and I feel so desperate between my legs that I’d be satisfied with a quickie if that’s all he wants.

Right after I give my consent I find myself on the living room sofa while Roman lowers his massive body over mine, pushing himself into the cradle of my thighs with a groan I can’t help but echo.

“Christ, I can feel your heat already,” he moans, pushing close enough that I feel the outline of his hardness through both our pants.

I realize just how big he is as he starts a bumping rhythm that puts the head of his erection right over my clit for a grind that starts off slow and rapidly picks up speed until I start gasping and pushing closer.

A tightening is happening deep inside me that’s sending echoes from the swollen flesh of my inner walls all the way to the nub that’s just as swollen and ecstatically primed for whatever is about to happen.

I feel almost pained as he keeps rubbing at me, thrusting hard and adding a twist at the end of every nudge, before I explode.