His jaw clenches, and she inhales sharply when he pushes his chair back.
“On the table.”
“On the table,” she repeats slowly, wondering at all of the possibilities thatherecould mean. The possibilities the demand entailed. She rises from her seat, stepping the two feet toward him until she’s between the edge of the table and his knees. Exhaling, she presses her palms flat against the wood, testing its weight, before sliding on top. The temperature seems to climb several degrees when she unfurls her legs again.
“Here? Like this, Roman?”
He rubs a hand over his mouth, his fist clenching and unclenching before he reaches to cup the back of her calf, his fingers sparking an inferno.
“Just like that,” he says, his voice rough. He leans forward, his other hand joining to massage both of her calves, and her head tips back slightly, her eyes slipping shut.
“What else, Roman?” she asks, fighting the urge to slide off the table and onto his lap, the pressure becoming almost unbearable between her legs.
He stands then, and her head falls forward to meet his stare that’s full of desire and promises andheat. His palms slide to the back of her knees and pull her forward. Her pelvis meets his in one fluid motion that has her lips parting. His head bends until his mouth is an inch from her neck.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing the column of her throat. Her hands curl against the table, but she keeps them in place as her body shudders at the contact.
“I’m thinking … that I should have been meaner.”
“Why?” he rumbles, traveling his lips to the arch of her shoulder.
“Because nothing good will come of this.”
He chuckles against her neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there that makes her shiver. “I can think of plenty of good things that will come of this. Tell me what else you’re thinking,” he says, wrapping both hands in her hair to expose more of her neck.
She bites her lip, determined to answer him. “I’m thinking—” She pauses, shuddering when his mouth starts to suck against her throat. “I’m thinking that I’m still not the person you’re looking for, but I’m not sure that I care anymore,” she says breathlessly, before moving to push him back to look him in the eyes. “I’m thinking that I’m tired of thinking and I’m tired of talking.”
He nods, his hands moving to cage her jaw, both thumbs brushing against her lips.
“Me too,” he murmurs, pulling her face to his. “Me too.”
Their mouths meet, and if possible, it’s even better this time around. There’s no restraint when he opens against her and strokes his tongue with her, when she moans at the contact, when he pushes further into her.
Want. Need. Mine.
One hand leaves the surface to drag through his hair, pulling him close, urging him on, holding him steady. She uses the leverage to guide him back to her throat, which he does so dutifully, licking and sucking. He kisses her collarbone, drawing her in closer, lifting her knee against him.
Pressing her other palm against the table, she shifts against him, earning a low groan from him as she gasps. She does this several times, until his head drops into her chest and they’re rocking against each other, her lace impossibly wet. Pulling his head back, she kisses him softly before stilling her movements to meet his eyes.
“Roman, I’m not … good at this.” She exhales shakily, licking her lips. “I just?—”
Leaning forward, he kisses her once. And then again, working their tongues together, before pulling back to drop into the chair. Jahlani takes deep breaths, observing him. His hair is messy, his chest is red from where she had her hands on him, and his pants have a wet spot on the front, either from her or from himself.
Want. Need. Mine.
“Spread your legs,” he murmurs. This time, she doesn’t hesitate when she widens them. She drops both palms for balance and watches his chest rise and fall as he wets his lips.
“Touch yourself,” he demands, his hand running across his jaw, eyes dark.
Lifting one hand from the table, she flattens it against her stomach before sliding it under the lace. She exhales shakily asshe slowly starts to rub, her head falling back, a breathless moan escaping.
“I could watch you do this for hours, Jahlani. Days,”he says, letting out a rough laugh. “Hell, I could watch you solve statistical equations for hours and be perfectly content.” She inhales sharply, her nipples hardening when she bears down on her fingers.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” she says, before letting out a low whine. “Not a second.”
He leans forward, eyes glazed as he watches her grind against her hand. Her stomach clenches and she stops her rhythm when he stands, towering over her.
Want. Need. Mine.
