Читать книгу The Dare Collection: July 2018 - Nicola Marsh - Страница 22

CHAPTER TWELVE

ROMAN HAD EVERYTHING prepared for Allie. A table set up on the patio overlooking the sunset. The food prepped and ready in its various warming plates. Candlelight. The best of intentions.

And then she walked out of the jungle and the blood rushed out of his head and took up residence in his cock. She wore a skintight beige skirt that his hands were itching to slide over, and her little crop top bustier thing offered her breasts up as if begging for his mouth. The sandals had a little heel on them, which only served to highlight the muscles in her legs and...

He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “Fuck, Aphrodite.”

Her sweet smile was reward enough, but he wasn’t going to be the gentleman he’d planned to be originally. Not with her looking at him with those come-fuck-me eyes and strolling right up to slide her arms around his neck. Her smile widened as she pressed her hips against his. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He cupped her ass with one hand and her hip with the other, dragging his thumb along the exposed few inches of her upper stomach between the skirt and top. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” She looked him over. “You, too.”

It was too hot for pants, but he’d chosen a pair of khaki shorts and a linen button-down that passed as dressed to the nines for island fashion. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” She hooked her fingers into his belt loops. “But not for food. I’ve been thinking about you since we were on the boat.” She gave a delicate little shiver that had his cock hardening further. “Dinner will hold. I need you now.” Allie had his belt undone in the space of a heartbeat and shoved his pants down his legs.

Shock stole his reasoning when he recognized the look on her face. “You’re still jealous.”

“No, I’m not.” She knelt in front of him and wrapped her fingers around his cock. “I was. It wasn’t anything you did, and it wasn’t anything I have a right to feel, but it was there all the same.”

He laced his fingers through her hair. “You’re entitled to feeling anything you damn well please.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

He watched her lick her lips, his heartbeat kicking up a notch. She was jealous of the woman on the boat. Roman hadn’t bothered to remember her name, but she had been beautiful and confident and someone he might have looked at twice if he wasn’t totally and completely wrapped up in Allie. “Do you really think another woman can compare when you’re in the room?”

“We were on a boat.” She gave him another stroke but seemed content to talk for the time being.

“The point stands.”

Allie pinned him with a look. “I’m not interested in competing with another woman for a single damn thing. Life isn’t a zero-sum game, and too often we’re pitted against each other when it’s not beneficial for anyone but the men around us.” When he just looked at her, she relented. “Fine. I hated seeing her touch you. I wanted to march up and toss her over the railing. I’m not proud of that.”

He wished he’d seen the obvious fury in her gaze when it all went down, though it was probably for the best that he hadn’t. Roman had no business being pleased with the fact she was jealous, but he was all the same. He slid his fingers deeper into her hair and lightly massaged her scalp. “I’m not interested in anyone but you.”

“For the next few days.”

For always. He couldn’t say it. Even with all the extenuating circumstances, it was too soon. Roman had never shied away from what he wanted, though—and what he wanted was Allie Landers.

He just had to give her a reason to give him a shot.

Focus.

“Suck me, Aphrodite. Show me how disinclined you are to share.”

She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I find myself very disinclined to share.” Allie licked the underside of his cock like a lollipop and then sucked him down.

Roman had to fight to keep his eyes open, to watch her pretty pink lips move over him. She licked and sucked, her gaze never leaving his face. She worked him like she was laying claim to his cock in a way that had lightning sparking at the small of his back and pressure building in his balls. He wasn’t going out like that, though. Not without touching her. “Come here.” He guided her off him and lifted her onto a chair.

Roman hit his knees and slid his hands beneath her skirt, pushing the soft fabric up. She wore nothing beneath it, and his breath caught in his throat when he found her wet and ready for him. Not yet. But a taste couldn’t hurt. He hooked her legs on the outside of her chair arms and dipped his head to drag his tongue over her. As long as he lived, he’d never get enough of the taste of Allie on his tongue.

She moaned and arched her back, offering herself further. “Stroke your cock, Roman. For me.”

He froze, nearly coming on the spot at her words. Fuck, woman, I’m keeping you.

Keeping one hand bracketing her thigh, he made a fist around his cock and stroked hard. He was already close from her sucking him off, but he wasn’t about to let himself come before she did. He flicked her clit with his tongue, alternating between circles and those vertical motions that he knew she liked. A frenzy took hold and he devoured her, driven on by her moans and writhing. She was close. So fucking close. His balls drew up, and he fucked her with his tongue, growling against her pussy. Needing more.

Needing her.

Allie laced her fingers through his hair, riding his mouth and crying his name as she orgasmed. He gripped his cock harder, roughening his strokes as he followed her over the edge, coming hard enough that he saw stars. He drew back enough to kiss first one of her thighs and then the other, then he pulled her skirt back down over her hips. “Now it’s time for dinner.”

* * *

Allie slouched in her chair, feeling completely boneless. “That’s one way to start a meal.”

“Mmm. Yes.” Roman kissed her stomach and then adjusted her clothing to its correct place. He did up his pants just as efficiently, and she mourned the loss of the sight of him. The man was built magnificently and as good as he looked in clothes, he looked even better out of them.

He set about doling out food onto two plates with an easy, almost professional quickness. When he nudged a crooked fork back into place, she knew it had to be true. “How long were you a waiter?”

“Six years. My parents paid for my college, but they are big believers in working for anything worth having, so the rest was up to me. I handled room and board and books and all the other bullshit expenses that show up when you’re in college by working at a local restaurant.” He shook his head. “I will never do it again. Lifetime food service workers are either saints or insane, because nothing brings out the asshole in people as much as the little power they think they have when they’re out to dinner.”

From the comments he’d made, she’d assumed he’d grown up with money, but knowing he’d had to work for at least part of it made her like him better. “Bet you tip really well.”

“I can afford to.” He shrugged as if that made a damn bit of difference.

Allie examined her food, giving him a brief break from a subject that obviously made him uncomfortable. Interesting. He hadn’t minded talking about working the job, but anything resembling evidence that he might be a good guy and he was suddenly closemouthed. She took a sip of wine. “I was a bartender my college years. O’Leary’s.” She saw from his look that he knew it. “Rich guys are the worst tippers out there—unless they think they have a shot at getting into your pants. Trust me, it’s not something that your waitstaff take for granted.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” She set her glass down and gave him her full attention.

Roman studied her. “Convince me that I’m not a total piece of shit. I already know I’m not. I might not be the best guy out there, but I’m a far cry from the worst. I’m solidly average.”

Allie snorted before she could stop herself. “Roman, you are many things, but average is not one of them.” And she wasn’t just talking about the size of his cock. He was obviously driven and smart and clever, and he’d done well for himself.

Even though she knew better, she still asked, “Why are you in this brand of investments? Why not stockbroking or something that—” Allie cut herself off before she could finish that thought aloud. Why not something that doesn’t involve taking from other people?

From the look he gave her, he knew exactly where her mind had gone. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m not the enemy—not yours and not any of the others whose businesses I help pair up with investors. Most of them thank me in the end.”

She had no doubt about that. Roman was hardly a snake oil salesman, but the force of his personality was often in danger of eclipsing all else—like common sense and reason. If he focused the entirety of it on a person, eventually he’d have them convinced that the sky was green and up was down. Even now, she was trying to find a way for it to make sense that he was the good guy and not the boogeyman under the bed that she’d assumed for months.

In truth, he was neither the bad guy nor the dream vacation fling—at least not in full. Reality was a lot more complicated.

Allie took a long drink of her wine and poked at the food on her plate. “You understand where I’m coming from with this.”

He didn’t answer for several beats. “You want to talk about business?”

Did she? The longer they were together, the clearer it became that they’d have to talk eventually—probably before they actually left the island...but she didn’t want it to be tonight. She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Another of those searching looks. “We can talk, Allie. We’re both adults, and as much as I enjoy the hell out of fucking you, I want to get to know you better.”

That sounded like... She didn’t know what that sounded like. It didn’t fit in with her preconceptions of their boundaries. It didn’t fit with anything. Allie swallowed against the panic welling inside her. It was just a conversation. She wasn’t agreeing to anything just because she was talking with him. She’d been talking with him this entire trip. It just felt different this time.

Meaningful.

She took a breath, and then another. “Do you have...hobbies?”

Roman smiled gently, as if he knew what the question had cost her. “I work a shit ton, so I don’t have much in the way of time. But I box a couple times a week at my gym—nothing crazy or competitive. Just sparring.”

She could see it. He certainly had the upper body of a boxer, though his legs were just as solid as the rest of him. “Boxing and yoga. That’s quite the combination.” He was experienced with yoga. She’d been doing it for years, and she still had trouble with some of the poses he’d pulled off the other morning.

“They both help with my stress level, albeit in different ways.”

“I bet they do.” She cocked her head to the side. “Doesn’t leave much time for social stuff.” Like recognized like—between running the gym and teaching classes, she had nothing in the way of free time.

“How did you get into the gym business?” He held up his hand before she could speak. “I’m not talking about your business right now—I want to know why you chose that route.”

She started to consider how she wanted to answer that, but exhaustion rolled over her. Allie was so damn tired of having to watch what she said around him. If she trusted Roman enough to give him full control of her body, she should trust him enough to have a conversation without worrying that he’d twist it around to use it against her.

Maybe it was time for a tiny leap of faith.

Allie took a bite and chewed slowly, finally swallowing the food, though she couldn’t have begun to guess what it was she’d eaten. Her entire focus was on Roman and their conversation. He had no way of knowing that the seemingly innocent question would open a whole Pandora’s box of history for her. She finally set her fork aside. “When I was growing up, I didn’t have the healthiest of childhoods. It could have been a lot worse than it was, but the only high points during those years were when my mom would let me tag along to the gym. When she was there, she was...” She had to search for the word. “Free. In control in a way that she never was while married to my dad. When that relationship ended for good, it was a new city, a new gym, a new sense of purpose. It was in that place that I saw her find herself again, make friends, start the long road to what healthy looked like.”

She tried a nonchalant shrug, but every muscle in her body was tense. “I initially started going so we would have something in common, but I really liked it. I never got super into the nutrition aspect of it, but I eat healthy enough.” She motioned at her body. “I like food. I like working out. I like giving women like my mom a safe place. It all came together in Transcend.”

Roman was so still, he might not have breathed the entire time she spoke. “I’m sorry your father was such a piece of shit.”

“Me, too.” Once upon a time, she’d wondered if her being born was the thing that ruined her parents’ relationship, but Allie had seen too much—heard too many stories out of the same playbook—for that guilt to hold any water. Her father would have been the same if it was a different woman, whether there was a child or not, regardless of the external stressors he liked to blame for his flying off the handle.

She looked at Roman and tried to picture him drinking so much he actually hurt a woman—anyone, really—and couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Maybe she was being naive, because he had a ruthless streak a mile wide, but nothing about him rang that warning bell. Why am I even thinking about this?

Because you can’t afford not to.

Except this ends when we go back to New York, so it won’t matter what he’s like when he’s not on vacation because you won’t be around to see it.

The thought had her sagging in her seat. She poked at her food again. Wanting more with Roman was out of the question. The whole condition of their being together was not to talk about the most important thing in their respective lives—her gym and his work. It wasn’t sustainable.

But part of her wanted it to be.