“I know, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you.” His words touched me as gently as his fingers that skimmed my jaw.
“The things you say make you a walking red flag.” He raised one eyebrow in question, so I continued, “You’re so nice, youlook like you do, you show up when I need you, even when I don’t want you to… it’s all very red flaggy.”
“You think I’m nice?” He frowned, sounding horrified. “Cardigans are nice. Romcoms are nice. I don’t want to be nice.”
“But you don’t mind being a walking red flag?” I tilted my head while I waited for his answer.
His shoulders bounced up and down in a shrug. “Not if I’m your walking red flag.”
I rolled my eyes so hard they ached. “See, smooth talking. Red flag.”
“You didn’t mention the sex. Is that a green flag?”
I giggled, instantly shaking my head because I was not a giggler. “Tell me something about you, Ro. Something real.”
He stared down at me intently as if he was sorting through the thoughts in his head for something suitable. “I used to be in a gang.”
I bolted upright, twisting to stare at him, bringing my bent leg onto the sofa. “What the hell, Ro? That doesn’t help with the red flags. A gang? Like an innocent gang of friends where you had a secret handshake and a cute name, or a gang of criminals who got up to illegal stuff?”
His eyes dipped to stare between my thighs, and I realised that, dressed in just his T-shirt and no underwear, my new position exposed my pussy, and he was drinking it in with his gaze. He didn’t reply. Instead, he placed his hand on my shoulder and pushed me back, positioning himself between my now spread-wide thighs.
He leaned forward, parting my folds with his fingers, his breath dancing over my clit, sending a ripple of pleasure through me.
“We did have a handshake, but we also got up to some pretty illegal stuff.”
“What sort of stuff—oh, fuck.” Roman’s beard tickled my thighs as his tongue licked from my arsehole all the way to my swollen bundle of nerves. My back arched as my fingers raked through his hair. When he did it again, I gripped tighter, wanting to hold him in place.
“You can’t drop something like that on me and then try to distract me,” I mumbled as he teased my entrance with his fingers and licked and flicked my clit. When his hands found my thighs, pinning me in place as he fucked me with his tongue, I whimpered, arousal rushing from me, which he lapped up like it was a nectar he couldn’t waste a drop of.
Pleasure fogged my brain, but I noticed he did this a lot—dropped Easter eggs about who he was, and then distracted me so I couldn’t question him about them.
Still having enough brain cells in working order, I tugged on his hair, pulling his head back so he had to look at me. The sight of him alone, glistening lips and hooded eyes, almost made me forget myself again, but I maintained my focus. “Answer me honestly. Are you a criminal?”
He splayed his hand over my stomach, and as he shook his head in response to my question, he pushed two fingers inside me, curling them at the perfect angle so they hit my G-spot. “Not a criminal.”
I stared down as he pumped in and out of me, loving how wet his tattooed fingers looked each time they appeared. His hand on my stomach pressed with a little more pressure, and my body bowed.
“Not in a gang anymore. I’m one of the good guys now.” I let out a breath, the whoosh of relief audible to us both. “And you’re going to let me take care of you.” And with that, his fingers picked up their pace, pegging my G-spot as his mouth moved to my pussy, so that when the pressure got too much, and my orgasm squirted from my body, Roman was there, drinking itdown, humming into my folds as if I was rewarding him for his honesty.
Before I could even catch my breath, Roman flipped me onto my stomach, pinning my hands behind my back with one hand and wrapping the other around the nape of my neck, holding me in place as he pushed his cock inside me with a loud groan, fucking me like he owned me, and I was starting to think maybe he did.
30
HANA
I stayedwith Roman all day. Every time I mentioned leaving, he wrapped me up in his giant arms and provided me with orgasms and promises to take care of me. Despite how wary I should have been, there was something about it all that made me crave more. And when he suggested I stay the night and do the same tomorrow, I couldn’t find it in me to say no.
We showered together, and I nestled into his side as he stroked my hair and kissed my temple until I fell into a deep sleep. I woke in the night, my body aching and my bladder full. I eased out of bed, slipped on the shirt I’d discarded earlier, and tiptoed out of the room. Once I’d finished in the bathroom, I was too wired to sleep, so I decided to go and make a cup of tea to help me relax.
I put the kettle on to boil and then searched through my bag, finding a scrunchie to tie my hair up into a messy bun, using a couple of bobby pins I kept in there to help keep it in place. My feet grew restless, so I wandered around, taking a peek into rooms I’d not been in yet—more guest rooms, a larder, a laundry room, and then a locked door.
I wasn’t sure why, but my gut screamed at me to open it. Peeking back into Roman’s bedroom, he was passed out, thesheets pulled up to his waist, letting me catch a glimpse of his massive chest, his even breaths telling me he was fast asleep.
I knew I was crossing a line, but I could sense that whatever was on the other side of the door was about to shift my world. I wondered what could be behind there—a sex dungeon, a torture room… I mean, the man looked like he could do some damage to bad guys, despite telling me he wasn’t a criminal, or maybe it was a room full of crap he’d not unpacked yet, and didn’t want people to find. But Roman Black didn’t strike me as a person who had lots of friends popping round he had to hide things from. He was a loner. I knew that because I saw parts of myself reflected in him. And I would never have a locked room in my house unless I wanted to hide something.
The image of the large wooden box full of the tools of my past currently at the end of my bed appeared in my head, and I considered how I’d feel if someone opened that without my permission, but this wasn’t a box; this was a room, and I needed to see what was on the other side, because no matter how Roman made me feel—and the man made me feel so much—I couldn’t ignore that he might be involved in the shitshow currently blowing up my life, and I’d be a fool not to check out every suspicious thing I came across.
Taking the bobby pin from my hair, I placed it between my teeth, bending the end. I then slipped it into the lock and wiggled until I heard the telltale click of it opening. I couldn’t help smiling to myself at how easy it was to get in there, but I guessed Roman hadn’t imagined needing to keep it more secure as the rest of the place was locked down like a prison.
