I moan against his mouth as he draws me closer. His body presses against mine. I feel him again, hard and pushing against me through his pants. I press closer to him, the ache in my pussy intensifying.
He groans, releasing my wrist, gripping my ass and hauling me tight against him. His tongue slides against mine and my knees go weak. He wraps his arm around my waist holding me up.
Roman lifts his head, saying my name against my ear. Everything inside of me pulsates. My skin feels too hot and I’m wet again, like before
“I wish we hadn’t stopped last time,” I admit, trying to catch my breath. “I wish you hadn’t left.”
I close my eyes, remembering his hands peeling my leggings down before he suddenly pulled away. How hard it was to sleep that night, not just because he was gone but because my body needed him. Needed the relief he was about to give me.
I wonder if he was aching as bad as I was. How he handled it.
"Where did you go after you left me,” I ask softly, pushing back the hair from his forehead. “I needed you, Roman. You were gone and I was alone wanting your touch.”
“A bar.” His lips travel down my neck. “I thought drinking would make me stop wanting you. It didn’t.”
“Good,” I whisper, whimpering when his hands close around my breasts. “I was scared you’d gone to…” I bite my lip, hating the reminder of that place.
His hands go still.
“To what?”
“Another woman. To a place like where I was before.”
His eyes drop for a second. He’s not laughing at my stupid suggestion. My stomach drops.
“You’re supposed to laugh and say no,” I tell him, my voice shaking.
He sighs, guilt written on his features. “I don’t want to lie to you.”
Nausea hits me. “You slept with another woman? After we?—”
“No,” he rushes to say. He doesn’t move away, but his arms fall to his sides. “I didn’t go last night. I’m not lying.” His shoulders tense. “I went today.”
Now I really can’t breathe. Nausea rolls in the pit of my stomach.
I push away from him. He grabs me, holding me in place. “I know how it sounds,” he says, his tone pleading. “Just listen to me. Please.”
“You’re holding me.” I glare at his hand, trapping me. “I have to listen.”
He tightens his hold. “Pchyolka,I didn’t have to tell you, but I want to be honest.”
I don’t want honesty, not if it means picturing him with someone else.
“Don’t look like that. Don’t.” He loosens his hands on my shoulders, still holding firm. “Yes. I did go to a place like the brothel. I wanted to find a woman to fuck. I didn’t care who it was.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“At the time—yeah, I thought I did. I swear to you, though. I didn’t touch her.”
I stare at him, unsure if I heard right. “You went there and didn’t touch her?”
He nods. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to do anything with her. She was nothing to me. I felt nothing.”
“Did she touch you?”
“No.”
“You went because you were trying to block me out?”
