She moves away and enters another room while I am standing in a wet turtleneck, watching her juicy ass jiggle as she walks away.
“Fuck me.” I run my hand through my hair. Turning away, I lift my leg and adjust the semihard cock in my pants.
It’s the first time I can take stock of her apartment. It’s a burst of color and art. Where out in the hall was grey, inside was all color. Noelle didn’t adhere to minimalist rules. She was a maximalist. The walls were covered in art. One that caught my attention was a Black woman with a huge red hibiscus earring looking back at the view. It was mesmerizing. The dark blue sectionals sit proudly on a multicolored rug. A statue of a lady carrying a vessel on her head sits at the corner of the room. I should be feeling overwhelmed and confused. My apartment is the complete opposite of this. Yet…I feel peaceful. It could be because it’s clean; nothing was out of place. Everything was in order. I like that.
NOELLE
“Remember, we are driving upstate. Please pack warm clothing,” Roman shouts. “I will be back.”
I roll my eyes as I tug on the pink turtleneck, followed by a pair of jeans and boots. I look back at my mirror. My hair was held high in a ponytail. I spritz my face with rose water and moisturizer.
It doesn’t take long for me to make up my face. I give my room a look over and drag my suitcase out of the room.
There, standing in the middle of my living room, is a bare-chested Roman Voss. Muscle. I didn’t think Roman freaking Voss had muscles. Hear me out: they are well-defined, not overly meaty, lean muscles. He has muscles at the side of his abs. OMG.
I want to touch him. But then I feel the suitcase landing on my toe.
“Shit!” I screech.
He turns. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? No, Roman, I am a sex-deprived woman with a hot man standing in my living room.
“Yes, I am fine.” I bend to lift my suitcase.
He’s there in front of me, bending to pick up my suitcase with ease. I swallow, and I feel like I’m on a diet with a slice of German chocolate cake in front of me.
“Stop staring; we have to move.”
And the jerk was back. He slips on the turtleneck and grabs his jacket and my suitcase.
“Meet you outside.”
I nod, looking over my apartment, then lock up.
It doesn’t take me long to slide into the buttery cream leather of Roman’s Jaguar.
“I got you a coffee.” He points to the green and white cup with a lid.
“Thank you.” I pick it up and take a sip. It’s sweet and hot, just the way I like it.
Roman switches the station to some classical music, and I groan inwardly. I love classical music, but for a road trip?
“How long is this journey?” I ask.
“Four hours.”
“Why didn’t we fly?”
“I hate flying.” That’s all he said, nothing more.
I lean back into the chair and look out the window. “We should talk to try to get to know each other.”
“Agreed.” He digs in the side of the door. “Take this.”
He passes me a black tablet, and I turn it on.
As the screen comes to life, I chuckle to myself. “You are so anal.”
