‘Harder,’ Roman urges. ‘C’mon. Give it some welly.’
I swing again. And again. Each strike loosens a bundle of stress until I’m really going for it, breath coming in hot puffs, followed by some very unladylike cursing.
‘Eddie’s an absolute bellend!’
‘Priscilla is a murderous bitch!’
‘I. Fucking. Hate. It. Here!’
‘Why amIalways the odd one out when I live in a house of actualmurderers? As if I’m the bloody black sheep.’
The blanket finally gives as my arms start to ache, stones flying like very hard confetti.
My chest heaves as I brush a sweaty curl from my forehead.
‘Any better?’
Roman is staring at me like I’ve just kicked over his motorbike.
‘Fuck,’ he breathes at last. ‘You look incredibly sexy when you’re angry.’
‘And like a troll the rest of the time?’
He steps close enough that it forces me to back up against the tree, rough bark grazing my back. The way he looks at me makes me turn into a puddle of jelly. All melted and wobbly.
‘Not even remotely troll-like,’ he says softly. ‘Maybe the hair.’
I jab him in the stomach, and he grins before stretching an arm above me, caging me in between him and the trunk. The tree trunk. Not the one in his pants. Glancing down, I double-check. No trousers-tent as of yet.
Shame.
Then he kisses me in a collision of unrestrained pleasure.
My breath catches in my throat. He tastes like whisky. I want to climb him when he lets out a slutty little moan. The world tilts as he runs a hand down to the nape of my neck, deepening the kiss. All air leaves my lungs as I melt against his chest.
It’s hot and messy and exactly what I need.
The bark presses through the fabric of my dress while his tongue has me vibrating beneath his touch. He’s all thick, hard muscle and heat, and I can’t help but thank whatever god or goddess decided to let me borrow him for a week. I may have taken him, but therehas to be some kind of divine intervention to have him willingly kissing me like the answer to all his prays lays at the back of my throat.
My legs wrap around his waist, craving more of that incredible friction he grinds into me oh so well. His hands slide to my backside, holding me up while pinning my thighs wide.
My brain is gone. I’m reduced to a single-cell organism with only one thought.Fuck me already.
‘Are you just doing this to stay alive?’ I whisper when he thrusts against my panties, hating that the thought still lingers. I breathe the words into his mouth as he plants another kiss on me.
He speaks through heady kisses. ‘That was the plan, at first. But I can’t stay away from you. I watch you sleep, and instead of trying to run, I look for a way to be closer to you.’
The way he arches his hips makes me whimper.
‘You’re like a parasite,’ he says quietly, which has me frowning. ‘In a good way. It’s like you’ve burrowed inside me and carved out a weird little space that’s only ever going to be full with you in it.’
His thumb brushes my jaw again, feather-light this time, like he’s memorising the shape of me. My chest tightens, and when he kisses me again, it’s slower and deeper, like he’s trying to say more, or maybe avoid saying what we both know to be true.
This is temporary.
A discreet cough makes me freeze, skirt halfway up my arse, and my legs akimbo around Roman’s waist.
We freeze.
