Is that his thumb on my cheek?
“Are you?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Let’s give the people what they want.”
I look at his bottom lip, and I didn’t realize how juicy and red it was before.
I hold the top of his waist. Both of his hands are on my face. His green stare becomes lazy. He rubs his nose against mine. His lips graze mine, and like a starved woman, I open my mouth slightly for more.
My fingers dig into his waist. This is teasing.
“Roman,” I whisper. His mouth is hesitant, but he presses his lips to mine, and I almost moan out loud.
My stomach flutters as his tongue slips past my lips. He sighs, and I tiptoe, wanting—no, needing—more of him.
ROMAN
She is moaning into my mouth. I feel her nails digging into me. She mewls in frustration from my hold. My thumb grazes against the side of her face. Her lips are pillowy soft. But her kiss is like she is starving for me. Her tongue touches mine, and I drop my hands from her face to her ass and pull her into me.
I need her to feel exactly what the hell she is doing to me. Fuck, I want more.
Someone clears their throat, and I hear clapping.
“Alright, Roman!” someone shouts.
I pull away slowly; Noelle’s eyes are closed, but they flutter open slowly. Her eyes go from sexy to shocked. She comes down from her toes. Her grip slackens. I laugh as my thumb wipes the side of her face.
She tries to talk, but nothing comes out.
“That was perfect. Pictures are amazing. That’s a wrap,” the photographer shouts.
I ignore him and watch Noelle trying to regain herself.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods and looks away. “I just need to use the bathroom.”
“Down the hall behind the second stairway,” I reply.
Noelle nods. I watch as she walks away; there is a little wobble in her legs. She pauses and regains her balance.
I exhale, trying to center myself. A simple kiss shouldn’t make me rock hard. Maybe Cole was right; I need to get laid.
“I have so many questions to ask your ass.”
There is only one person who talks to me like this, and it’s my cousin Tillie.
I turn around to her standing with her arms folded, as is the norm. She is neat as a pin, not a hair out of place.
“Your hair was black last week; now it’s blonde.” I open my arms and pull her in for a hug.
She pulls me tight and whispers. “Who is the chick?”
“This is the first time you’ve seen me in months, and that’s the question you ask?”
Tillie laughs. “I speak to you almost every day.”
I look around to make sure no one is hearing our conversation. I take Tillie’s elbow and direct her to the furthest window.
