Spoken For (7 page)

15

CONNOR IS REALLY sweet, making a fuss over me I until I reassure him for the hundredth time that I’m right as rain. Roman spends most of the day on the phone, chained to the enormous leather-padded desk in the library.

“Making arrangements for the Lam,” Connor informs us.

Although from the snippets I’ve overheard, it’s not just the car. He’s taking business calls, catching up on some of the slack of these last two days.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Liam groans. “I feel so bad, and he won’t even let me apologise properly.”

“There’s no use fretting,” Connor tells him. “If Roman were upset about it, you’d already know.”

After lunch, Liam and I are half-heartedly considering a hike up the mountain behind Kleighnorm when Connor mentions he has a couple of bikes in the shed.

“Will you join us?”

“Don’t see as why not,” he decides. “You two push on ahead, mind you, if I slow you down.”

The seventy-plus-year old man is more spritely than my twenty-two year old bones. In the end, I’m the one forced to dismount, waving them on as I push my bike up the steeper stretches of the winding road.

The air is dry and crisp, just cold enough to keep me pushing instead of planting myself down on the edge of the mountain to wait for them to collect me on the way down.

My thoughts churn in no particular order.

The ashen pall that hung over Roman for most of yesterday. The depth of his concern. The accident…or more precisely, that weird interlude between myself and…well, myself, because Lucy and Kyle weren’t really there. I don’t know where to start untangling that, but I do recognise the regret.

Now I’m left with an off-kilter feeling that I’ve been playing a sick and twisted game with myself for years. That clinging so desperately to Kyle has more to do with daring myself chicken-style than love. If I can hold on one more day, one more month, one more year... If I can do that, why not forever?

But forever came a little too close for comfort yesterday and now I don’t even know what that’s about.

Love?

Or fear? Fear of falling in love again. Fear of losing everything again.

I don’t need to lock my heart to keep Kyle inside. He’ll always be a part of me. The only reason to lock my heart is too keep everyone else out.

That is what bugs me the most.

I suspect I’ve been lying to myself.

And what happens the next time death comes calling? Do I really want to go out in another blinding flash of regrets?

I haven’t changed my decision about Roman, not exactly, but I’m mulling it over, wondering…

The daylight has already started waning when Liam and Connor come flying down the hill.

“Come on, lazy bones,” Liam shouts as he whizzes past. “Race you to the bottom.”

I’ve no hope of catching them, but I turn my bike around and climb on, release the break and let the winding road take me at a thrilling, reckless speed. The wind slaps my face and bares my lips. Adrenaline rushes my blood and I’m laughing like a child on a sugar-high as I skid the poor bike inside the gates.

That evening, I discover we have a dinner guest.

Roman introduces Graham Bold as a Rocchi employee, come up from London to oversee the team investigating the Lamborghini.

Bold, as the man insists on being called, is tall, dark and buff. He has the same taste in suits as Roman, his skin is tanned much darker, his accent is thicker, and there’s a sharp, constant observation thing going on in his obsidian eyes that gives off a
Bodyguard
vibe. That may be a little extreme, but I’m guessing he doesn’t work in Accounts or Human Resources.

During supper, I sense a personal connection between the two men, and it’s more than their obviously shared Italian heritage.

I can’t resist asking. “So, Mr. Bold, what line of work are you in?”

“It’s just Bold,” he evades smoothly.

“Okay,” I shoot back with a smile. “Bold, what exactly do you do at Rocchi?”

His own smile glazes his eyes a sharper shade of black. “Whatever needs doing, Ms. Lynch.”

“That sounds ominous,” Liam says.

“Does it?” Bold gives a careless shrug. “I’ve always thought it makes me sound like an office lackey.”

Connor grunts a laugh.

“Bold is the head of our security division,” Roman drawls. His gaze directs to me as he adds, “There’s nothing innocuous about his position, I’m afraid.”

My skin heats at the reminder of how adept he is at reading my mind. Or maybe it just heats under the intensity of that look. I’m teetering on the brink of reversing my decision, no doubt about it.

Maybe it’s a good thing we’re leaving tomorrow, returning to reality, and that Roman and Bold disappear after supper.

I want Roman Rocchi.

I won’t deny it.

But tonight I feel raw inside, scraped bare, and I’m not sure I trust myself with anything.

Liam and Connor set up another chess game and I go upstairs to indulge in a long bath. The hot water soaks into my limbs, draining my energy. My eyes are heavy by the time I climb into bed, but sleep eludes me and I eventually drag myself out into the passage when I hear Liam.

He takes one look at me and shakes his head on a smile. “Come here.”

His arm opens and I let him pull me into the room and onto the bed. As I stretch out, I grab a pillow to cuddle.

“Is this about the accident?” Liam rolls onto an elbow, facing me. “Talk to me, Kee.”

And I do.

I tell him everything.

Well, I gloss over some of the details when it comes to me and Roman, but I tell him about my flash-dream of Kyle and Lucy and what I think it means.

Liam doesn’t say much, he never does.

He lets me ramble on and on until I’m empty, and then I feel him pulling a blanket over me as my eyes drift closed.

16

I’M CROSSING THE hallway to the breakfast room when Roman’s voice almost trips me.

“A word, Keegan.”

There’s so much dark intent stamped on his tone, he might as well have said,
Is there a problem, Ms. Lynch?

He’s leaning against the doorjamb of the library, arms folded, his stony gaze boring into me. His chiselled jaw has an extra edge from the tension darkening his expression. He’s not amused, clearly.

My pulse still hitches as my eyes take him in. He’s wearing his faded jeans again and a long-sleeved, ribbed white tee that shrugs his rippled chest.

“I, um…” I wet my lips. “I’m just on my way to breakfast.”

My nipple tingles at the prospect of his special brand of attention, but I’m in an odd mood this morning. A
good
mood, and I’m not ready for another prematurely aborted lesson to kill my buzz.

He steps away from the doorjamb, gesturing me inside. “This won’t take long.”

“That’s the problem,” I mutter under my breath as I slip past him.

The door clicks closed, no latch locking.

I scoot across the room, nowhere near the fireplace.

“You weren’t in your room this morning,” he says, his measured stride slowly bringing him closer. “Your bed hadn’t been slept in.”

“It’s not what you think,” I sigh. “I fell asleep on Liam’s bed, but nothing happened.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, Keegan.” The scowl eases from his brow, but his eyes and voice still judge me for bad, bad behaviour.

The accusation irks me.

Roman doesn’t own me.

He hasn’t even kissed me.

My chin nudges high on irritation. “I’m sure it breaks ground rule one-hundred and something—”

“There’s only one rule you have to remember,” he cuts in with a low growl. “If you want me to fuck you, you stay out of other men’s beds.”

The breath whooshes from my lungs.

Did he just say—?

He leans in, his gaze heating into me. “I have no problem with your friendship, Keegan, but that’s a firm line for me. I don’t give a damn how platonic or innocent it is, I won’t tolerate you in his bed.”

My eyes dip to his sternly drawn mouth. His kisses won’t be tender. He’ll crush my lips, plunge his tongue inside me, ravish my mouth while his hands go all over me. Oh, God. My bones turn leaden with desire.

“Think about that while we’re at breakfast.” He straightens, the heat blanking from his gaze. “Come.”

What?

The smallest, grimmest smile hooks the corner of his mouth as he turns from me and walks out.

I can’t believe he’s done it again.

He’s gotten me hot and bothered and all he’s offering is breakfast.

I’m not the least bit hungry anymore, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how he’s worked me up so I follow out into the hallway and around the corner leading to the cosy breakfast room.

Roman pauses on the bend, falling into step with me just before we reach the door.

“If you want this,” he says quietly, “then go directly up to my bedroom after breakfast. Turn right at the top of the stairs, it’s the room at the very end. I want you naked, stripped and perched on the edge of my bed like an unwrapped gift, waiting for me. Do you understand?”

My stomach clenches.

Hard.

I don’t know if it’s desire, disbelief or anger.

Roman pulls ahead, murmuring a greeting to whoever’s already there.

My feet are frozen.

I have no intention of entering, but then Roman calls out, “Keegan? Coffee?”

Damn the man.

I pop my head in and see both Connor and Bold seated at the table. “Morning.”

Bold inclines his head at me.

“Morning, Keegan,” Connor beams a smile at me. “Maggie’ll be bringing in a fresh batch of eggs in a bit.”

“Actually, I think I’ll skip breakfast.” I manage to return a weak smile at Connor.

Roman brings two mugs over to the table and slides into a chair. “In a hurry to be somewhere?”

His eyes glint silver as he looks at me.

The bastard.

I pop back out before the flush of heat reaches my cheeks to embarrass me.

My feet carry me through to the hallway, then stall as I’m faced with two choices. Two sets of stairs.

Blast the man.

Why does he always have to make it so difficult? Why couldn’t he just drag me up to his bedroom in a fit of passion?

And there, of course, lies my answer.

Roman is all about control.

Complete domination.

If I come to him, it will be a deliberate, conscious decision on my part. He’s making me walk into his bedroom alone, with plenty of opportunities to change my mind.

If I come to him, it will be on his terms.

I want you naked, stripped and perched on the edge of my bed like an unwrapped gift, waiting for me

Warms shivers roll down my spine.

This isn’t another lesson. Another frustrating tease.

My eyes go to the unfamiliar staircase across from the guest wing. If I go up there, this is really happening. Roman will throw me on the bed and fuck me.

My core melts at the thought.

I can’t resist.

My legs are trembling by the time I reach his bedroom at the end of the upstairs passage. I push inside, close the door and then lean against it as my gaze sweeps his private domain.

The curtains are drawn open and daylight spills in over the plush carpet and chunky mahogany furnishing. There’s no personal touches, though. The décor is shades of dark blues, all very masculine and stark. The bed is enormous, the headboard carved from the same wood as the room’s furnishings.

I blow a shallow, nervous breath out.

Okay, I’m doing this.

Unwrapping myself.

My skin overheats as I shred my layers. Shoes. Jeans. Cardigan. Tee. I stack my clothes neatly on top of the chest of drawers and then I stand there in my bra and panties, hesitating.

I’ve never done anything like this before.

The few times I’ve had sex all started with mutual groping, pulling each other’s clothes off in the heat of the moment.

But what if Roman expects full compliance?

What if this is a test to determine if I’m truly ready to be initiated into his playground?

My pulse quivering, I unclasp my bra and take it off. Then I slide my panties down and place my underwear on the stack with the rest of my clothes.

I walk around the bed, tempted to close the curtains and darken the room. The heating is turned up, the temperature moderate, and yet I feel a chill as the air brushes my skin.

This is another first for me.

I don’t walk around naked. I’ve been naked plenty of times, of course, but usually only in transition before I wrap a towel around me or slip into the bath, or change from set of clothes into another.

I feel awkward, too exposed. But there’s excitement, too. I want this. I want the thrill, to be pushed beyond my usual comfort zone. I’ve wanted this from the moment I set eyes on Roman Rocchi.

Leave the curtains.

God, how long has it been?

How long does Roman intend to keep me waiting?

My lids flutter as I imagine him walking in, standing there by the door, studying my naked flesh with those stone cold eyes glazed with silver fire. A wire pulls tight in my stomach and moisture gathers between my thighs.

I walk back around the bed to the side nearest the door and pull the duvet back so I can sit on the pure white sheet. The Egyptian cotton is cool and silky against my lower cheeks.

My eyes are glued to the door.

Every second that passes is a nervous stroke to my pulse. I cross my legs. My nipples tingle and my clit swells as the anticipation builds.

I swear a half hour has passed before, finally, I hear footfalls in the passage outside. A sudden dread thuds in the back of my throat.

What if it’s not Roman?

Before I break into outright panic, the door opens and he’s here, pressing the door closed behind him.

“Don’t,” he commands softly as a hand moves instinctively to cover my breasts. “Place your palms flat on the bed.”

I obey, partially. I balls my hands into fists and press them to the bed.

He stays there by the door, his gaze slowly roaming over my mouth, my throat… His eyes glitter silver as he lingers on my breasts. My nipples perk, reaching for him, pleading for his touch, and I’m tensely aware of the fact that he’s fully clothed while I’m vulnerable and unwrapped.

“You are so beautiful.”

The huskiness of his voice soothes the coil of tension.

His gaze continues lower, over my stomach, to the junction of my thighs. “Uncross your legs, Keegan. Part your thighs. I want to see that tight pussy.”

“Roman…”

His eyes lift to mine. “You shouldn’t be here unless you trust me implicitly. Do you, Keegan?”

I bite down on my lip and nod. I do trust him. Because even as I’m resisting, desire sluices through me at what he wants. My cheeks burn with my shamelessness as I uncross my legs and place both feet firmly on the ground, a couple of inches apart.

“Wider, Keegan,” he orders gruffly. “I want you open.”

I do as he says, stretching my thighs wide apart.

“Perfect, don’t move.” His eyes graze my clit, then lift to mine. “Are you on the pill?”

“Yes,” I groan. My clit is throbbing and he wants to have this talk now?

“I want to ride you bareback.” He pushes away from the door, dragging a hard back chair with him as he approaches. “Do you object? I do have a clean certificate of health.”

I can barely think straight, let alone object. He places the chair right in front of me and sits, his knees almost touching mine as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. Up close, I recognise the raw hunger sharpening his cheekbones and deepening the hollows of his jaw. His eyes dip to my centre and his nostrils flare with lust.

Desire knots my lower abdomen and sends a shower of hot shivers over me.

What was he saying?

Oh, crap.

“Roman, I don’t…” I don’t want to bring up Liam now, but I have to. “I haven’t had any medical check.”
Ever

His gaze meets mine and I swallow hard.

“The last time I had sex was with Liam, and that was more than a year ago,” I continue. “I’ve never had sex without a condom. I’m sorry, I’ve never thought to get checked.”

“A year?” The smile that settles on his lips is hard, wicked and sexy. “God, Keegan, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

My worries fade into oblivion as he cups my breast, massaging the plumpness while his thumb whirls my nipple rigid. His other hand comes between my thighs, stroking my clit with his finger, teasing the hard nub at the top. And all the while, his eyes sink into me, watching me as he strokes my desire into a fever.

“Roman,” I pant. “Please…”

His finger pauses on my nub, then flicks. “This?”

My entire body bucks. “Oh, God, yes…”

That finger drags down my clit again, all the way to my opening, and presses in a fraction.

“No.” His voice is silken and firm. “You’re wet and throbbing, but you’re not going to come like this.” Even as he speaks, his finger slides inside another inch and stills, not moving. “You’re going to wait for me.”

I don’t know where he thinks I’d get that kind of control. The nub of my clit is bundled into a mass of nerves. I’m pulsing around his finger as my orgasm builds.

His mouth comes down on my other breast, alternating between deeps sucks and lightly scraping his teeth over the nipple.

“Roman!” I gasp. “I can’t—”

His head lifts.

His finger slides out of me.

My body clenches on the brink of the orgasm he’s abruptly taken from me. My eyes flash into his as a shudder of frustration rips through me, so deep and sharp, it’s actually painful.

His hands land on my hips and rest there.

“It’ll be worth it,” he promises, and then his mouth crashes over mine. His tongue plunges, tasting, stroking, and a different pleasure washes over me.

He’s inside me, filling my mouth and my senses. The kiss is dominating, designed to tame me, but there’s nothing distant or harsh about the way his lips move over mine. His breaths are ragged when he draws away, completely, kicking the chair back as he stands.

“Lie down,” he instructs as he strips his clothes. “Flat on your back. Legs wide.”

It’s my turn to look. His chest is ripped, his hips lean. His cock is long, thick, rigid, rearing up against his abdomen.

When he comes over me, his hair brushes my nipples and his cock grazes my sleek centre.