I pull at his neck, needing him closer. I’m seconds away from jumping into his arms when a scrape hits my ears and I remember we’re in a room with ten other guys, one of whom is my brother.
We break apart to find Mase scowling at us, his arms crossed. “I’d say get a room, but I really don’t want that visual.”
I stick out my tongue. “You sure, because I’m happy to paint it out for you. Roman likes to be on t?—”
I shriek as Roman pinches my hip and tugs me back into his arms.
“Behave,” he whispers in my ear.
I grin, letting myself relax into his chest as I take in my coffee shop. It’s already looking better. With this many people here helping I might even still be able to open in two days like I’d planned.
For once, I don’t think about all the ways this could go wrong. Roman saw the mess the shop was in, he knows why Robvandalized it, but he didn’t judge me or tell me I’d screwed up. He just found me help. Because he never stopped believing that I could do this. That I could do whatever I wanted to do.
I decide then and there that Roman and I will be okay, because that’s the sort of love that lasts.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Roman
Don’t you love her?
Your mother cares about two things. Money and image. Love doesn’t factor into it.
What do you care about?
My legacy.
- Conversation between Roman, age 13 and his father
I thinkI might wake up before Lola every morning, just so I can see her like this, splayed out on the bed.
We stayed up well into the dark last night, finishing the final touches on the shop. Flecks of pale blue paint freckle Lola’s face and arms, her chocolate hair with its shocks of purple tangled on the pillow. Even in her sleep a little dent digs down between her brows and I give into the urge to smooth it out with my thumb.
She breathes in at my touch, her chest rising before she settles back into the bed, all trace of worry gone. Fuck, I love that I have that effect on her.
The sheets rustle as she shifts again and I hold back a groan as the material slips down, revealing the perfect swell of her breast and just the hint of her dusky brown nipple.
I check my phone, there’s still half an hour or so before Lola’s alarm will go off. Other than stolen kisses, we’ve been too busy to touch each other over the last couple of days, and I don’t think I can wait any longer.
I know that she’s mine, that she loves me the way I love her, but I have this incessant need to claim her all over again. To touch her, and kiss her, and fuck her until we’ve both forgotten how close we came to breaking.
I snag the sheets with my hand and drag them down, holding back a groan as the soft skin of her body is unveiled. I cup her breast in my hand, leaning down to suck at the writing tattooed beneath it.
Lola gasps but doesn’t wake. I hold myself above her and slide my hand under the sheets, finding her damp curls like the route is embedded in my muscles. I part her lips, sliding a finger through her wet folds and drawing circles on her clit until her breaths leave her in beautiful little hitches.
I could play with her for hours, but the promise of her taste is sweet on my tongue, and I want her awake, want to hear her moan my name because she knows it’s me and only me who can bring her pleasure like this.
I lower myself under the sheets and breathe her in, nuzzling her clit with my nose, then I reach up and tweak her nipple, squeezing until her eyes flick open on a gasp.
“Roman…” Her hands scrunch the sheets, arousal flooding her gaze as she looks down to see the lazy desire in my smile.
“Morning, Firebird,” I murmur against her core before giving in to my need to bury myself in her cunt. I drink her in, raking my teeth over her clit and spearing my tongue so deep inside her, her hips lift from the bed.
I chuckle, pinning her to the bed and running the scruff on my jaw against her inner thighs. “So needy.”
She shudders and her fingers tug at my hair, the pinprick sensations hardening my already throbbing cock.
“Roman, please.”
