Sadie pulled at his waistband, unzipping and pulling him free.
Yes, please. Sadie was all in. He was totally on board with this turn of events.
She raised her arms so that he could pull the shirt over her head. In just her bra, she practically climbed him like he was Pike’s Peak.
Yeah, he was on board with an unleashed Sadie.
Damn, he’d missed this lack of restraint that he knew she could have once she just let go for five seconds. Or thirty minutes. Or all night—he planned on keeping this party going all night. What was left of it anyway.
Here’s the thing. He was a guy. He was a guy with a pretty massive hard-on. He was a guy with the woman of his goddamned dreams grinding her sweet, sweet core against his thigh. He was a guy who was making pretty feral noises that he had no control over.
But he was also a guy who needed to ensure she understood this wasn’t a one-up. A fling. A no-big-deal if he doesn’t call her in the morning.
Because, oh, he’d be calling her.
“You’re thinking really loud.” She dropped to her knees in front of him, pulled his jeans down to his thighs, and rolled his blue Hanes boxer-briefs down around his thighs.
His dick was totally all in on this gig. Pleased as all punch that Sadie was going to take care of him. But the problem with being Roman in that moment? He was using his brain. The one in his skull, not his pants.
This was a big deal. This was it for him. She had to know that. He wanted to ensure she made no mistake—he was in this for more than a weekend. Therefore, he wasn’t going to do this on the floor or against the wall. And she wasn’t going to be the one to do the going down. No. He needed some place where he could take his time. Show her all the billions of reasons why they belonged together.
This was about her. About showing her that he was all in. Roman had to do his best to show Sadie that she was it.
He pulled her to her feet, kissing the air out of her, crushing his mouth to hers.
Tonight was about everything. His world. The woman he’d missed more than a breath of clean air on a battlefield that smelled of artillery.
So he broke the kiss. The lips his mouth had crushed down on parted in clear concern.
“Rome?” Sadie asked, confused. Her forehead bunched together adorably.
“Shh.” He ran the tip of his nose along the edge of hers. “We’re just doing this slow.”
“Did I mess up?” she asked against his mouth.
The cautious way she said it. The sincerity of the words.
Fuck. That’s what she thought? She’d dropped to her knees and went at his fly like he was the water she’d been craving for a century.
No, she hadn’t messed up.
She’d been the furthest thing from messing up.
“Sadie.” He moved so she had a full view of his face. “You don’t ever mess anything up.”
Her lips drew taut. She didn’t buy it. Clearly.
“You don’t ever mess up, not with me,” he added. “Not when it comes to us.”
He was the one who’d fucked shit up on that front. He was the one who’d walked away instead of taking the woman of his dreams up on her offer to wait for him. No, he couldn’t have stayed in Denver—he had a mission to get on with and a commanding officer ready to give him orders.
But he could’ve let Sadie in. Waited for her as much as she’d offered to wait for him.
Instead, he’d given up and he’d lost her.
He slipped his arm around her waist, lifting her under her knees and carrying her to the bed.
As gently as he could, he laid her on the bedspread.
