It’s a lie. The reason I’m shaking is because of Roman’s nearness, his touch, and it’s almost too much for my body to handle. My pussy clenches, my nipples harden. My breath comes in shallow pulls.
His hand stays on my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. His touch is gentle, reverent even. I tilt my face into his hand.
A sudden thought occurs to me.
He’s killed with these hands.
I don’t move.
“Amalie,” he says softly.
There’s something about the way this man speaks my name in his accented voice.
Roman leans in just enough so I can feel his breath against my lips. It’s warm, with a little smokiness from the whiskey. Thespace between us narrows to nearly nothing. I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the dark stubble on his chiseled jaw.
For a moment, he just stares, like he’s committing my face to memory. Then his hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer until my knees brush his thighs.
When his mouth finally finds mine, I can tell the kiss is different than it was last night. It’s slower. Deeper. Less about raw hunger and more about something else. His lips move against mine with wonderful patience, letting me feel every drag, every shift of his mouth. I melt into him and don’t even try to fight it.
The kiss deepens. My panties are soaked, and without thinking I place my hand on his hardness through his slacks. He’s long, thick, solid. I drag my fingertips along his length. He groans against my mouth before pulling back with a wicked smirk on his lips.
“Tonight, let’s try for no running after.”
“Deal.”
CHAPTER 11
AMALIE
His mouth finds mine again before I know what hit me, another delicious kiss of claiming and tasting. Roman slips his hand between my legs, grabbing the softness of my inner thigh, causing me to moan in hunger. Then he takes me by the hips and pulls me onto his lap like I weigh nothing at all.
“That’s better,” he says, a wolfish grin on his face.
I gasp at the shift in position, the ease with which he moved me. I’m positioned in such a way that I can feel the hardness of his cock through his pants, pressing against my wet pussy.
“God that feels so damn good.”
He takes hold of my hips again, pulling me against him. I buck back and forth, riding him. I can already feel the pressure of an orgasm starting to build.
“You feel incredible,” he says, grinding into me from below.
His lips trail to my jaw, then to the soft, delicate spot just beneath my ear. I shiver with delight, and he smiles against my skin.
“Sensitive,” he says. “I like that.”
Roman moves his hands under the hem of my shirt, warm palms gliding over my ribs, making me tremble again. His thumbs brush the underside of my breasts, and I sigh.
“I want to see you.”
Without a shred of resistance, I raise my arms, and he pulls my shirt off with one smooth motion. His eyes move over me, drinking in the sight. Part of me wants to hide, to cover myself, but another part wants to show him everything. It’s all so confusing—I’ve never felt this way with any other man before.
His fingers settle on the clasp of my bra. “This,” he says, “needs to come off.”
He unhooks it slowly, as if savoring the moment. The straps fall from my shoulders, my breasts tumbling out, rising and falling with every breath.
He inhales sharply. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.” His eyes narrow. “This is the body your ex tried to make you apologize for?”
My cheeks turn hot and red. “Roman?—”
