Just One Look

I wonder if he’s asleep. I wiggle my ass to test him. His hand slips from my stomach to my hip, stopping me so I can’t move. I guess he’s awake.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that.” My whole face warms at being caught. Luckily, he can’t tell if I’m turned on. I am, by the way. I have the urge to rub myself all over him. I’m not sure what is happening. I mean, the man hasn’t been the nicest to me, but I can’t deny my attraction to him.

What is he doing to me? I’ve never had any type of pull to another man before. My body was dormant before him. I’ve gone on a handful of first dates, but I didn't feel anything toward any of the men. Yet, this man has my nipples hard and heat pooling between my thighs as I start to ache.

“Morning.” His deep voice rumbles through my body. It doesn’t help my current situation. He kisses me on the shell of my ear gently. Goosebumps breakout on my arms. He rolls me over onto my back. Before I realize what’s happening, his mouth is taking mine. This kiss is possessive and filled with need. I moan into him, lifting my hips to try to ease the ache between my thighs. I gasp when I rub against his cock. His whole body jerks. I dig my fingers into his back, trying to hold him to me. What am I doing? I need to stop, but I can’t. I keep on kissing him. My body begs me for some kind of relief.

“Morning!” Ace shouts, and I hear the bedroom doors open. I swear it’s as if a bucket of ice water has been thrown on me.

“Fuck,” Roman grunts, rolling off me. “Need to start locking the door.” I sit up, hoping he didn't see anything. He comes bouncing over to the bed jumping up and making himself at home.

“Were you two kissing?” His eyes dart back and forth between us.

“She is my wife.” Roman stands. I lick my lips, still tasting him there. I have to get control over myself. The only thing I really control around here is the sex. It lies within my own hands not to give in to temptation. I’m not giving the power away because I know he wants it. Roman is clearly a man that’s used to getting what he wants.

“Can the kittens come down for breakfast?”

“I think they will be fine. Let me get dressed and I’ll see what there is to make.”

“George will already be preparing something.”

“Oh.” I bite my bottom lip. Why does that bother me?

Roman stares at me for a long moment. “Did you want to cook breakfast?” he asks.

“I would like to do some of the meals,” I admit. “I love to cook, and that kitchen is a dream.”

“The kitchen and meals are yours, Fawn. You are the lady of the house. Just let George know what you want, and he’ll get it taken care of.”

“Thank you.” He gives me a nod before going into the bathroom. “I’ll meet you in your room?”

“Yep.” Ace jumps off the bed, darting out of the room. I get Ace dressed and everyone downstairs for breakfast. Roman slips off to work, and Ace and I spend the day together. He’s such a sweet boy. My heart aches for him having lost both of his parents. I lost my mom, and I still carry the sorrow with me. I think I lost my father that day too. After her death he was never the same. Everything changed.

After I finally get Ace and the kittens down for a nap, I head back to my bedroom and begin unpacking my things. I don’t want to continue living out of a bag. I should probably go down to the kitchen and look through things to see what I might need in order to plan some meals out. But instead, I find myself wanting to check in on Roman to see what he’s up to. I haven’t seen him since this morning. I thought maybe he would come and check on us at some point, but he didn’t. I have a feeling he’s one of those men who is devoted to work above all else. It might be the reason he didn’t go out and find himself a real wife. He probably couldn’t find the time to do the whole dating thing.

I suppose I could bake some cookies. Then I’d have a reason to pop into his office. I debated making him lunch today but decided against it. I’m supposed to hate this man. He’s ruined my life by forcing me into marriage.

My phone vibrates on the table. I answer it quickly when I see it’s the nursing home calling.

“Grams?”

“No, Mrs. King. It’s Shelly. One of your grandmother's nurses.” Wait. How the hell did she know I was Mrs. King? Doesn't matter right now.