‘I’m going to enjoy administering and observing your pleasure.’
How far had she come? How far had Roman brought her? This was deliciously bad, very bad indeed, but she wanted him to watch.
Grabbing the sheet with her inside it, Roman tightened it around her and brought her against his chest. His kiss was hard and urgent. His intention was all too clear. Cupping the back of her head, imprisoning her in a way that made her warm all over, he caressed her cheek with his other hand and stared deep into her eyes as he predicted with amusement, ‘It’s going to be a long night, Eva.’
It could never be long enough for her. But could she please him without going the whole way? Could she soothe her own frustration? Time was running out. Roman eased onto the bed beside her. She had to decide now, either to speak or to remain silent. She chose silence. Every part of her might be tingling with fear, but her excitement overrode that, and all it took to forget her fear was the thought of what he might do next.
‘Come to me, Eva.’
Roman’s gaze was steady and commanding. She reached for him and he drew her into his arms. He made her feel so safe. This felt so right. And perhaps because Roman was so relaxed and unhurried, she was able to relax too. He stroked and kissed her anxieties away and she was more than ready when he moved down the bed. First he suckled her nipples, one and then the other, until she was panting with excitement and pleasure, and when his hand slipped between her thighs while he was still doing this she wondered if it was possible to pass out with pleasure.
‘Do you want something more, Eva?’
‘You know I do.’
‘Then you must tell me what it is you want.’
But that seemed so bad. ‘No...’ Her voice was shaking with frustration.
‘Yes.’ Roman’s voice was pitiless.
‘How can I tell you when I don’t know?’
‘I’ll never hurt you. Take it from there, Eva.’
How could she think when her heart was firing like a machine gun? This was all completely natural to Roman, but for her—
She drew a sharp breath in when he slipped a pillow beneath her hips.
‘Knees clenched like nutcrackers? Not a great start,’ he murmured wryly, smiling up at her. ‘Relax, and then tell me how you feel.’
She turned her face away. ‘Shy,’ she blurted. Determined, she tried again. ‘Self-conscious...’ Her lips pressed down as she thought about it. ‘Excited. And extremely frustrated,’ she admitted on an awkward laugh. ‘And exposed—but I don’t want you to stop.’
Roman laughed. ‘So you trust me at last?’
‘It would appear so.’ The old fire was back in her voice, but there was a smile in her eyes now.
‘Brava, Eva Skavanga,’ Roman’s warm breath caressed her ear. ‘So is this what you had in mind?’
‘Oh, yes...’
‘And this?’
One skilful fingertip traced a line of fire exactly where she needed him— Well, not quite. It was always close, but not quite touching...
‘You’re very responsive, Eva.’
‘But I shouldn’t—’
‘You shouldn’t what?’ he said as she turned her head away. ‘You shouldn’t allow yourself to feel pleasure? You shouldn’t lose control?’
While she was hesitating over her answer, he removed her tiny thong.
‘You don’t really need this,’ he explained with a smile when she gave a shaking cry. ‘And I wouldn’t worry about losing control if I were you. That’s going to be something you’ll have to get used to.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do say so. My rules, remember?’
‘I love your rules—in this context only,’ she quickly said. She loved the way he cradled her as he fondled her, parting her lips and working with one finger, so delicately and skilfully, in a way that almost instantly brought her to the edge.
‘Good,’ he murmured as she sucked in a great shuddering breath.
She moaned with pleasure, needing this so badly, and so unutterably grateful that Roman knew everything there was to know about pleasure and how to please her.
‘Look at me, Eva. Yes. Look at me.’
‘If I promise to look at you, will you touch me again?’
‘Are you making bargains with me?’ He smiled into her eyes.
‘Would you prefer me not to? Would you prefer me to accept everything and be meek and mild, or would you rather I was true to myself, Roman?’