The Bachelor (19 page)

Empty
was another word that ran through her head. There was no one else around. “Do you run this place by yourselves?”

Marian shook her head. “But it’s quiet this time of year. Though we’re an hour from Saratoga, we still experience the lull
between winter getaways and racing season. I’m just glad we were able to fit you in on short notice.”

“And we appreciate it,” Roman said.

“Our pleasure. Now let’s get you settled.”

A short flight of stairs and a narrow hallway later, Marian Innsbrook led them into a dimly lit room. “In here’s the sitting
area, up those stairs in the loft is the bedroom. There’s cable television, the temperature controls are over here.” She walked
to the far wall and explained the in-room system. “Breakfast is served at eight and you can have a wake-up call anytime you’d
like.” She started to step out of the room.

“Thank you, Mrs. Innsbrook,” Charlotte called after her.

“It’s Marian, and you’re welcome.”

Roman walked her out and seconds later the door shut with a resounding click. They were alone.

He turned, his back propped against the closed door. “I thought she’d never leave.”

“Or stop talking.” Charlotte grinned. “I really like them, though.”

“They kept in touch with my mother all these years. They even came to Dad’s funeral.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“They’re good people.” He shrugged. “And Mom and Dad came back every year for their anniversary.”

His gaze met hers, dark and compelling, staring until she was shaken. “I’m not sure what to say next,” she admitted.

He started walking toward her. “I can think of a lot better things to do than talk.” He paused in front of her.

His musky scent filled her with a longing so strong her knees nearly buckled, and she swallowed hard. “Then why don’t you
show me?”

A rumble rose from his throat that resembled a low growl, a deep admission of desire. The next thing she knew, he’d swept
her into his arms, up the stairs, and laid her down on the king-sized loft bed. Then his lips came down hard on hers.

It was what she hadn’t known she’d been waiting for—this hard, demanding kiss that never ended and caused wave after wave
of carnal need to rush her body at lightning speed. His lips were unforgiving, crushing hers, and the hot, moist assault on
her senses brought everything inside her to life.

She cupped his face in her hands and threaded her fingers through his hair, reveling in the silky softness, such a contradiction
to the hard male body poised above her. He traveled a path with his mouth, across her cheek, and down her neck, pausing to
nibble at her tender flesh.

“When I picked you up and saw you in this low-cut sweater, all I could think about was tasting you,” his voice rasped, a husky
sound in her ear.

His need, his desire made her feel wanton and brave. She arched her back, stretching her body out against the mattress and
pushing her aching breasts and tight nipples against his chest, giving him complete access to her neck. “So? Do I taste as
good as you thought?”

He let out another of those groans that turned her on and nuzzled his lips harder into her skin.

The pulling sensation of his teeth against her flesh found an answering response between her legs, the place that was and
had always been empty—and would be until Roman filled her.

He settled himself more completely against her, his groin nestled hot and heavy between her thighs. Denim was a restricting
barrier, but she felt his weight and breadth anyway, pushing against her, seeking entry. Her body bucked beneath him, wanting
more than a teasing thrust of clothed bodies. Though she’d never admit it aloud, her body reminded her of what she’d tried
to forget—she’d been waiting for this man all of her life. For now he was hers.

And she was his. His large hands seemed to take possession, as he traced her shape with his palms, pausing only to cup her
breasts in his hands and hold tight, feeling their weight and caressing her nipples with his thumbs. She let out a moan that
surprised her.

He sat up, resting his weight back on his legs. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Trust me, I have some clue.”

When he reached toward the elastic waist of her pants, she sucked in a deep breath and waited for him to tug them down. Off
her body.

Instead he paused. “About protection …”

In most cases, the subject would be a mood killer. With Roman, it was just a delay she didn’t want. “I’m on the pill,” she
admitted.

Surprise flickered in his eyes, replaced quickly with the unmistakable flare of desire. She wondered if his thoughts mirrored
hers—all she could imagine was him inside her, flesh against flesh, no barriers, nothing between them. “But …” She was too
smart for reality not to assert itself.

A taut muscle ticked in his jaw, evidence of what this restraint was costing him. “What?” he asked in a softer voice than
she’d believed he could manage right now.

“It’s been a long time for me and the few times I … we … used protection.” She darted her gaze to the cream-colored wall to
her left, shocked by the utter intimacy of this conversation. Then again, there wasn’t anything more intimate than the step
they were about to take.

He sucked in a breath and she wondered if he was shocked by her words. Wondered if she’d scared him away. Men didn’t like
to think a woman was investing too much into any one night. But she and Roman had had that conversation already and both knew
the score.

“I’m not indiscriminate.”

At the sound of his voice, she refocused on him before she could lament the end of what hadn’t yet begun.

“I’m careful,” he continued. “And before each trip abroad I have every blood test imaginable.” A heavy silence descended between
them. “And I never cared so much before what a woman was thinking, so don’t leave me in suspense.”

A heaviness formed in her chest and a lump rose to her throat as she grabbed his wrists in her hands. But she refused to succumb
to emotion, not when desire was so strong and encompassing. “Stop talking and make love to me, Roman. Or I might have to—”

He cut her off by pulling down on her pants in one swift move, and cooler air hit her thighs.

“I like a man that listens.” In fact, she liked him a whole lot. More than was prudent, she thought as she kicked the pants
off her ankles.

He stood to undress and she shed her sweater next. When he returned to the bed, he was nude and he was magnificent. His tanned
skin complemented his dark hair and his blue eyes had darkened with desire—for
her.

“I like a woman who isn’t afraid to tell me what she wants.” He placed his hands on her thighs and spread her legs wide. “A
woman who isn’t afraid of her sensuality.” Sparks of light glittered in his gaze as he took in the light blue bra and panty
set. “Know what my favorite color is?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, but with his burning touch searing her skin and liquid desire pulsing through her veins, no
words would come.

“As of right now, it’s blue.” And with that, he dipped his head to taste her.

Charlotte thought she’d die of pleasure. She wondered if such a thing were possible. And then she couldn’t think at all. His
tongue worked magic, managing to ease inside the open holes of the handmade panties. With broad strokes, he laved, then alternated
with insistent suckling that sent white-hot darts of fire throughout her body as every nerve she possessed begged for release.

He brought her to the edge of climaxing more than once, only to slow the loving strokes of his tongue and bring her back down.
She writhed and begged until he used his tongue and teeth to graze her sensitive folds of flesh, taking her upward once more.
But she refused to have her first orgasm without him being inside her. She needed to feel that emotional connection with him
too badly, and when he reached up and held her hand in his, she knew he understood.

Without warning, he slid up beside her, his warm body cradling hers in heat. He made fast work of her bra and panties, before
cuddling alongside her again.

“You taste good.” He brushed her hair off her face and before she could respond, he closed his mouth over hers. At the same
time, he pressed his hand over her aching, empty feminine mound. Waves of need began to build inside her again. She jerked
her hips upward and whimpered, a sound he caught in his throat.

He broke the kiss but his lips lingered over hers. “What is it, sweetheart? Does this help?” he asked, easing his finger deep
inside her.

Her body trembled in reaction. “I know what would help more.”

So did Roman. This restraint wasn’t easy. He was enjoying every minute, but if he didn’t come inside her, he was going to
damn well explode. “Tell me what you want.” He needed to hear it from those well-kissed lips.

“Why don’t I show you instead?” Her cheeks were flushed pink with desire, her eyes glazed with need as she reached out and
held his hard length in her hand.

He didn’t need to answer, just follow her lead—and he did, easing himself over her as she spread her legs and placed the head
of his penis into the damp, moist vee of her thighs. At that moment, foreplay was over.

He thrust inside her, hard and fast. She’d said it had been a while and when her smooth muscles contracted around him, he
realized how long she’d actually meant. She was tight and wet, capturing him in silken heat. He broke into a sweat, not just
because he was aroused and so damn close to coming he thought he would burst, because he felt like he was exactly where he
belonged.

He felt like he’d come home.

Roman opened his eyes and met her startled gaze. It wasn’t pain or discomfort he saw there, but awareness. She obviously felt
it too.

He began a rapid thrusting meant to distract him, to separate himself from the reality of his feelings. Sex had always been
a distant form of quick and easy release in the past. Not now.

Not with Charlotte. Not when her rhythm complemented his rhythm, her breaths matched his, and her body molded perfectly around
him. And when he climaxed, taking her with him, Roman somehow knew—things would never be the same again.

Roman walked out of the bathroom and toward Charlotte, completely nude and not the least bit embarrassed. She supposed there
wasn’t much left to hide between them and she didn’t mind looking at him. Not a bit.

She wasn’t as ready to be that free herself. She crossed her legs and pulled the sheets up around her. “I’m starving.”

Roman’s eyes glittered with deliberate mischief. “I can satisfy that hunger of yours.”

She grinned. “You already did. Twice. Now it’s my stomach that needs filling.” She patted the sheet above her belly. They’d
worked up a healthy appetite and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

She was ashamed to look too deeply into her heart, because she wasn’t the same woman who’d walked into this inn. She found
it too easy to be with this charming man who promised honesty as easily as he guaranteed he’d be walking out the door.

He reached over and grabbed the green leather-bound folder from the nightstand and looked through the selection of late-night
snacks.

“What are my choices?” she asked.

“Would you believe not much? There’s a cookie platter with assorted teas, or a vegetable platter with honey mustard or blue
cheese dip, and a choice of colas. There’s also fresh seasonal fruit. Can’t imagine what that would be at this time of year,
but one thing’s clear. We’re eating cold and nothing homemade.” He laughed. “So am I ordering you the vegetables?”

She raised an eyebrow, surprised he’d chosen wrong. “Guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Now, there’s a challenge. So you want the fruit?”

She crinkled her nose. “Roman Chandler, what kind of women do you hang out with?” She shook her head. “Forget I even asked.”

He settled himself next to her. “Sorry, can’t do that.” He lifted her hand and began a slow, steady massaging of her palm.
His touch was as seductive as his eyes were mesmerizing and blue. “The Chandler reputation’s way overrated.”

“Oh, really? You brothers don’t collect women?”

“I’m not saying they don’t line up for me.” His impish grin told her he was joking. “But I definitely turn them away. I’m
getting too old for the revolving door.”

But despite the teasing upturn of his lips, she tossed a pillow at him anyway. “Tell me something. I don’t really remember
your father. Did he have that same ‘women love him’ reputation? Is that what you three are living up to?”

He shook his head. “The only woman my father was interested in was my mother and vice versa.”

“If only my dad reciprocated my mother’s feelings, like yours did.”

He tipped his head back in thought. “You know, our mothers aren’t really that different.”

Charlotte couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope. Step out of your single-minded resentment of your father and take a look at something. He took off and your mother’s
been waiting around ever since, yes?”

“Yes,” she said, completely unsure of where he was headed.

“And my father died and my mother never got involved with another man again. Until this week, but that’s another story.” That
darn perceptive gaze met hers. “Nothing’s really different,” he said. “They both put their lives on hold.”

“I guess you’ve got a point.” She blinked, surprised to realize they had something that fundamental in common.

But nothing had changed for them—even if she had become more emotionally attached. Dammit. Their long-range goals were still
disparate and far apart, something she’d best keep in mind during their time together, she warned herself.

Roman’s own words reverberated in his head. His mother had put her life on hold for what seemed like forever. Because she’d
been so much a part of his father’s life, she’d been lost without him. Until he’d spoken his conclusion aloud, he’d never
realized that his mother hadn’t moved forward.