The Bachelor (Chandler Brothers 1)

“Or stop talking.” Charlotte grinned. “I really like them, though.”

“They kept in touch with my mother all these years. They even came to Dad’s funeral.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“They’re good people.” He shrugged. “And Mom and Dad came back every year for their anniversary.”

His gaze met hers, dark and compelling, staring until she was shaken. “I’m not sure what to say next,” she admitted.

He started walking toward her. “I can think of a lot better things to do than talk.” He paused in front of her.

His musky scent filled her with a longing so strong her knees nearly buckled, and she swallowed hard. “Then why don’t you show me?”

A rumble rose from his throat that resembled a low growl, a deep admission of desire. The next thing she knew, he’d swept her into his arms, up the stairs, and laid her down on the king-sized loft bed. Then his lips came down hard on hers.

It was what she hadn’t known she’d been waiting for—this hard, demanding kiss that never ended and caused wave after wave of carnal need to rush her body at lightning speed. His lips were unforgiving, crushing hers, and the hot, moist assault on her senses brought everything inside her to life.

She cupped his face in her hands and threaded her fingers through his hair, reveling in the silky softness, such a contradiction to the hard male body poised above her. He traveled a path with his mouth, across her cheek, and down her neck, pausing to nibble at her tender flesh.

“When I picked you up and saw you in this low-cut sweater, all I could think about was tasting you,” his voice rasped, a husky sound in her ear.

His need, his desire made her feel wanton and brave. She arched her back, stretching her body out against the mattress and pushing her aching breasts and tight nipples against his chest, giving him complete access to her neck. “So? Do I taste as good as you thought?”

He let out another of those groans that turned her on and nuzzled his lips harder into her skin.

The pulling sensation of his teeth against her flesh found an answering response between her legs, the place that was and had always been empty—and would be until Roman filled her.

He settled himself more completely against her sex, his groin nestled hot and heavy between her thighs. Denim was a restricting barrier, but she felt his weight and breadth anyway, pushing against her, seeking entry. Her body bucked beneath him, wanting more than a teasing thrust of clothed bodies. Though she’d never admit it aloud, her body reminded her of what she’d tried to forget—she’d been waiting for this man all of her life. For now he was hers.

And she was his. His large hands seemed to take possession, as he traced her shape with his palms, pausing only to cup her breasts in his hands and hold tight, feeling their weight and caressing her nipples with his thumbs. She let out a moan that surprised her.

He sat up, resting his weight back on his legs. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Trust me, I have some clue.”

When he reached toward the elastic waist of her pants, she sucked in a deep breath and waited for him to tug them down. Off her body.

Instead he paused. “About protection …”

In most cases, the subject would be a mood killer. With Roman, it was just a delay she didn’t want. “I’m on the pill,” she admitted.

Surprise flickered in his eyes, replaced quickly with the unmistakable flare of desire. She wondered if his thoughts mirrored hers—all she could imagine was him inside her, flesh against flesh, no barriers, nothing between them. “But …” She was too smart for reality not to assert itself.

A taut muscle ticked in his jaw, evidence of what this restraint was costing him. “What?” he asked in a softer voice than she’d believed he could manage right now.

“It’s been a long time for me and the few times I … we … used protection.” She darted her gaze to the cream-colored wall to her left.

He sucked in a breath and she wondered if he was shocked by her words. Wondered if she’d scared him away. Men didn’t like to think a woman was investing too much into any one night. But she and Roman had had that conversation already and both knew the score.

“I’m not indiscriminate.”

At the sound of his voice, she refocused on him before she could lament the end of what hadn’t yet begun.

“I’m careful,” he continued. “And before each trip abroad I have every blood test imaginable.” A heavy silence descended between them. “And I never cared so much before what a woman was thinking, so don’t leave me in suspense.”

A heaviness formed in her chest and a lump rose to her throat as she grabbed his wrists in her hands. But she refused to succumb to emotion, not when desire was so strong and encompassing. “Stop talking, Roman. Or I might have to—”