Yet that hadn’t stopped me from fucking a girl in front of him, or letting him take me on the hood of his car. These were things that I’d never normally do, but for some reason, around him I wanted to act out. I wanted him to want me.
He followed me into the kitchen, where I found a half-empty bottle of single malt whiskey in the back of the cupboard. I hated the stuff. It tasted like ass. I opened the bottle and poised it, ready to pour into the glass when I felt his hands run up the outside of my bare thighs. I gasped, the bottle slipping from my grasp and smashing to the floor. I didn’t move. I couldn’t, because his hands were now exploring between my thighs, over my damp panties, a finger occasionally slipping inside the fabric and stroking my bare pussy.
Oh, God. My hands clenched on the countertop as my legs began to buckle.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered in my ear. “Are you wet for me, Beth? Do you want to feel me inside you again?” I nodded, not capable of speaking anything resembling English. All I knew was that I had an incredibly hot, mysterious, older man with his finger inside me, and I did not want him to stop.
“Oh yes,” I rasped, my hips bucking toward him as he teased me.
He grabbed me by the thighs and lifted me onto the sink. I gasped, the cold metal freezing against warmth of my skin. His hands worked under my top, the feel of his fingers against me making me tingle. I closed my eyes and lifted my arms as he slid the top over my head. Pulling me toward him, his lips met the curve of my neck as his tongue slowly drew circles along my collarbone.
> He was amazing. More than any other man I'd been with, Roman knew how to make a woman feel wanted. He pressed up against me, his lips determined to explore every inch of my body. We kissed, his tongue circling mine as his hands crept behind my back and unclipped my bra.
I sat there, dressed in only my white silk thong, with him still fully dressed, and standing between my legs. My head was hazy, but not so much that I was incapacitated. I knew what I was doing, and I wanted to be with him—the only thing was, the alcohol made that possible. Had I not been drinking, I would not be sitting on my kitchen counter naked right then, no matter who was in front of me . . . even if it were Coop.
I gasped as Roman’s mouth traveled down to my breasts. His tongue circled my nipple, sucking and licking me into a state of ecstasy. I curled my legs around him as my hands ran through his hair. I kissed his forehead, breathing in the coconut-almond scent of his shampoo.
I groaned, my grip on him tightening as his fingers made their way down south. I jumped suddenly as they moved inside the edge of my panties. My thighs clenched with him still between them, my body aching at his touch.
“Where is your bedroom?” he said, as he gently slid a finger inside me.
“Down the hall and to the left,” I whispered breathlessly. He lifted me into his arms, his kisses not slowing as he carried me toward the bedroom. I held on tightly, as if I were scared to let him go. My heart pounded. This was moving too fast. The anxiety I was beginning to feel made me worry that the effect of the alcohol was starting to wear off. When doubts started creeping into my head, I got nervous.
I couldn't do this alone. Could I?
I wanted him. God, I wanted him so badly. But in my messed up head, all I could think about right then was Ivan, and the way I had felt so useless that night.
The panic in me continued to feed on my worries. We reached the bedroom, and Roman gently lay me down on my rose embroidered bedspread, his fingers roaming all over my body.
Edging my hand inside his boxers, I gripped hold of his stiff cock, gently moving my hand back and forth. He groaned and closed his eyes, his mouth tensing as I worked my fingers up and down his shaft.
“I can't stop thinking about you,” he whispered, leaning forward, his lips meeting mine. I returned the kiss with passion as his fingers continued to rub me, making me even more wet than I already was.
Still, as turned on as I was, and as much as I wanted this, I couldn't escape the past. Not today.
“Tell me how much you want me, Bethy,” he whispered in my ear.
I froze. My eyes widened, and all I could feel was the pressure of him on top of me. Bethy. Bethy. The name shot through me like a knife.
No, no, no, no!
Frantically I pushed him away. He was too close. I felt like the room was closing in on me, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out. I struggled to breathe. This was my first panic attack, and it was my first in the middle of sex.
I was embarrassed. I felt like a fucking fool. What the hell was wrong with me?
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I sat up, wrapping the sheet around me. Roman appeared in front of me, kneeling on the floor, staring up at me with concern.
“Beth, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?” I shook my head, the words refusing to come. I couldn't explain this to him. What would I say? I just needed him to go. If he left, I could pull myself together and move past this, but I couldn't do it with him here, watching me.
“Please, Roman, I need you to go. I know you want answers, but right now I need to be alone.”
“Are you serious? You're a mess. The hell I'm leaving you alone while you’re like this. No fucking way, Beth. You don't want to talk to me? That's fine, I won't make you, but I'm not leaving until I know you're okay.”
“Roman, please.”
“Don't argue with me, Beth. I’ll go down to the living room. Take all the time you need, and if you need to talk, I'm here for you. Don't push me away.” He leaned toward me, placing a delicate kiss on my forehead. I curled up on the bed and watched as he walked out the door.
***