The Bachelor (Chandler Brothers 1)

But he’d touched her heart—owned it, actually. He always had, from the night he’d shared his deepest dreams and she’d had no choice but to push him away in response.

She hadn’t made any concrete decisions, but she knew she wouldn’t push him away now.

“Ready to order?” a tall, dark-haired waiter asked.

“No,” they both said at the same time.

Charlotte didn’t know how, but minutes later, stomach still empty and a twenty-dollar bill left on the table, they were back on the road, headed home, and half an hour after that, she let them into her dark apartment.

She hit the switch in the hall and the overhead lamp came on, bathing them in muted light. He kicked the door closed behind him and pulled her into his arms. Standing, she leaned against the wall as his lips came down hard on hers. His need was blatant, apparent, and as deep as her own. She shed her jacket, dropping it to the floor, and Roman made even faster work of her jersey, until she was wearing only her red boots, blue jeans, and white lace bra.

He sucked in a shallow breath as he traced the floral pattern with roughened fingertips. Her nipples pebbled beneath his touch and her body coiled tight, desire spiraling through her at a rapid pace.

“You’ve got to be hot in all those clothes.” She reached for the collar of his jacket and pulled it down, letting it join hers in a heap.

His blue eyes glittered with anticipation and desire. “What I’m feeling goes way beyond hot.” He pulled his navy shirt over his head and tossed it aside. It hit the wall behind them and dropped with a muted thump. “Your turn.”

A steady rhythm took up residence between her legs, and dampness accompanied his seductive words. Excitement was her companion as she bent over and pulled at her boots to get them off, but her hands shook and the leather seemed to mold tighter to her foot.

“Let me.” He knelt down and pulled first one red snakeskin boot off, then the next, before turning his attention to the button on her jeans. He worked it like a pro, his strong hands lowering the zipper, then easing the waistband over her hips.

Her legs shook and only the wall supported her as he brought the heavy denim around her ankles. And stopped. She tried to wiggle one foot free, but the jeans were too narrow at the bottom.

“Don’t bother. I’ve got you right where I want you.” He knelt on the floor at her feet and looked up at her. A wicked grin tugged at his lips and a satisfied expression settled on his handsome face.

She was held captive by more than confining clothing. She was imprisoned by desire and bound by love. Love he reciprocated. And when he bent over, his hair dark against her white skin, white-hot arrows of desire shot through her body, a distinct combination of erotic craving and emotional need.

She wanted nothing more than for him to satisfy the divergent desires, but knew nothing less than him being inside her would do. He met her gaze and must have read her mind, because instead of pleasuring her with his mouth as he’d seemed intent on doing, he worked her pants off and rose to his feet. In seconds, he was as undressed as she was, gloriously naked and as aroused as she.

He stepped toward her and held out his arms. “Come.”

She did as he asked and soon he’d lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands looped around his neck, and, once again, her back against the wall. His body heat and strength seeped into her, cocooning her in warmth and arousing her even more.

“I need you inside me,” Charlotte said.

Roman groaned. “I need the same thing.”

It took some jockeying, but she finally felt his erection, large and full, ready to enter her. And when he thrust inside her, her heart opened to all possibilities. How could it not, when he was full to bursting inside her?

As he moved, every hard ridge of his arousal caused a glorious friction inside her that built stronger with each successive thrust higher and deeper than before. She couldn’t catch her breath, didn’t need to, as sensation after sensation washed over her, carrying her up and over the edge and into the most explosive climax she’d ever experienced—because it was marked by love.

His shuddering groan told her he’d felt it too. She loved him. And later, as she fell asleep in his arms, she wondered why she’d denied herself the admission for so long.

* * *

Charlotte awoke and stretched, feeling the cool sheets on her bare skin. The sensation of waking up alone was normal and alien at the same time. No different than most mornings of her life, and yet because she’d slept through the night snuggled against Roman’s body, the chill was unwelcome and disturbing. So were the emotions that buffeted her still-dream-fogged brain.