This got me another blinding, full-face grin.
I leaned in to kiss his smiling mouth, but by the time I got there, it was no longer smiling.
It was open and sealing over mine.
He swallowed my moan when his tongue glided against mine. Then he fed me a groan as I threw a leg over his hips and ground against his cock.
Lifting my nightie, he shoved his hand inside the back of my panties, gripping hard and rocking me against him.
I lost his mouth as he knifed up, stripped the silk over my head, and threw it across the room. I found his mouth again seconds later as it landed on my breast, sucking my nipple deep and swirling around it with his tongue.
When I arched off the bed, he shoved an arm under my back, lifting me closer to his mouth.
“Oh God, Roman,” I cried, writhing beneath him.
He shifted his attention to my other breast, setting off an explosion that traveled to my clit. My legs scissored beneath his heavy weight, but he was too lost in his feast on my chest to catch my silent plea for more.
His mouth was torturous. It took me high, but nowhere near high enough to fall. And, as he flicked his tongue over my peaked nipple, my body craved the release. I took the initiative and slid my fingers between my legs.
He growled and pushed up when he felt my hand move between us.
“Keep going,” he demanded, rising off the bed, snatching my panties down my legs as he stood.
I dropped my knees to the sides, his eyes honing in on my fingers playing between my legs.
“Jesus, fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rumbled, dragging the tips of his fingers up my thigh, over my stomach, and then down the other side.
“Touch me,” I begged.
Still staring down, he licked his lips then made the path up my other thigh, over, and down again.
“Haven’t been with anyone else,” he muttered.
“No one,” I confirmed. “Touch me.”
“Two fucking years and no one.”
Up one thigh.
Down the other.
“No one,” I repeated.
Up one thigh.
Down the other.
“I couldn’t do it. I knew I’d get back here one day, and I was not bringing another woman with me,” he confessed.
My hand stilled as my mouth fell open.
He hadn’t been talking about me.
He had been talking about himself.
Oh.
My.
God.
For the first few months after our divorce, I had become physically ill at the idea of Roman being with someone else. Then, after Rubicon had taken off, I’d accepted it as fact. On top of the sexy, smart, and charming man he’d always been, he’d become wildly successful and wealthy to boot. I’d figured women were probably lining up outside his office.
Now, hearing him say that he hadn’t been able do it blanketed me in love.
“Keep going,” he ordered, his hand still traveling up one thigh and down the other as he stood beside the bed, staring down at me.
My fingers went back to moving, but I was blinking tears back.
“No one?” I squeaked.
He finally lifted his eyes to mine. “I work a lot, but I could’ve made time. To date or whatever the hell people tell you to do after a divorce. But I always knew it wasn’t over with us, and I refused to tarnish that with someone else.”
Oh.
My.
God.
My throat closed, and that love flooding my system turned into an all-out wildfire.
Roman Leblanc was mine.
All of him.
Even when he wasn’t.
Moving my hand to catch his wrist, I gave him a tug. “Come here, Roman.”
He didn’t move. He just continued to stare down at me, his face unreadable.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I sat up and kissed just above his navel.
Going for the button on his jeans, I told him, “I want to feel you, baby. Now’s not the night for you to watch.” I undid his zipper and pushed the denim down his legs, his thick erection springing free. “However, I’m gonna taste you first. So you can watch for a few minutes longer.”
His abs rippled as I wrapped my palm around his cock and guided it to my lips.
“Fuck,” he rumbled when I took him to the back of my throat.
I used my hand to work his shaft, my mouth paying special attention to his sensitive crown. His cock twitched with every swirl of my tongue. As I continued to slide him in and out of my mouth, one of his hands dipped to my breast, tugging on my nipple and shooting a tingle down my spine.
He brushed my long hair away from one side of my face, and I glanced up to find him watching, his gaze so intense that it caused goose bumps to pebble my skin.
“Missed your mouth, Lis,” he said, fisting the back of my hair.
I cried out as he gave it a sharp, but still in-fucking-credible, tug and popped himself free of my mouth.
“Missed watching you ride my cock more.”
“Yes,” I moaned.
I’d missed that, too. A hell of a lot.