Roman’s low, wicked chuckle vibrated against my throat.
“You are so fucking beautiful when you come, my love.”
My head lolled back against his shoulder, my body still trembling, still lost in the throes of bliss.
I struggled to find words, my voice husky, wrecked, dripping with satisfaction and desire.
“And you… are a master at ‘uncloaking my clit.’”
Roman let out a dark, satisfied laugh. His hands gripped my waist possessively, and his mouth slanted over mine in a searing, claiming kiss.
Without breaking contact, he scooped me effortlessly into his arms,rising as water cascaded over us, trailing down my bare skin in glistening rivulets.
My thighs instinctively clenched around his waist, feeling the thick, rigid length of him pressed against my stomach, teasing, taunting what was to come.
He ripped his lips from mine, his stormy blue eyes molten with desire, his voice a sinful promise against my ear.
“That was just a warm-up exercise.”
I let out a breathless, eager laugh, dragging my nails down his chest, over his abs, lower…
My fingers curled around his cock, feeling the thick, pulsing heat of him, stroking once, teasing, just to hear the ragged, guttural growl that ripped from his throat.
Roman’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening on my waist as if he were fighting the urge to push me down to my knees and have me worship him properly.
I grinned wickedly, my voice pure seduction, dripping with promise.
“Then let’s put your knowledge to the test, scholar.”
A hiss of breath escaped him, but before I could torture him further, he snatched my wrist, bringing my fingers to his lips, his teeth grazing my knuckles.
“Tease me again, and I’ll ruin you, amore.”
My thighs clenched at the threat in his voice, a deep, aching heat unfurling low in my belly.
But he only chuckled darkly, releasing me before reaching for the rough muslin cloths near the doorway.
We dried off in a haze of lingering touches, the fabric gliding against heated skin a torment. Roman took his time, dragging the cloth over my breasts, down my stomach, between my thighs, his smirk wicked and knowing when my breath hitched.
Once we were dry, we donned the soft linen dressing gowns left for us, the fabric cool against our flushed skin.
Without a word, Roman took my hand, leading me through the quiet corridors, our bare feet padding softly against the stone floor as we tiptoed up the grand staircase, not wanting to wake the count.
When we reached the bedroom, I let out a sigh of pleasure.
The room was lavish yet intimate, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The massive bed, draped in wine-colored velvet, looked like sin and luxury woven together.
Beatrice had turned down the covers, the sheets cool and inviting, a silent invitation for the next part of our evening’s indulgence.
But the moment I slid beneath the sumptuous bedding, my body melting against the plush feather pillows, exhaustion claimed me.
Roman followed, sliding in beside me. His warmth wrapped around me like a shield, and his scent was woodsmoke, desire, and home.
For a moment, I expected him to pick up where we left off, to part my thighs and remind me of all the things he’d learned?—
But when his strong arms curled around me, pulling me tight against his chest, my body finally surrendered to sleep.
And with his heartbeat against my back, his breath steady against my neck, I drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber.
