“I don’t know,” I whispered before I lightly brushed my lips over his. I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I’d expected, definitely not the one I got. He flipped us over so my back was pressed into the mattress and he was hovering over me. He wasn’t holding me down but his body caged me in, his knees between my legs, his arms beside my head, his upper body over me. Romero everywhere. God, and it felt good. Maybe there should have been anxiety and trepidation. We were alone in his bedroom, and if I called for help I’d get in more trouble than when I let him do whatever he wanted. But I wasn’t scared of Romero. Maybe I was stupid not to be. I knew what he was capable of. He was a killer. And he was a grown man, who’d had many women before me who delivered when they offered their body to him. Everyone always told me that playing games would get me in trouble one day. Maybe tonight they’d be proven right.
Despite this my body reacted to Romero’s closeness. My center tightened in anticipation, of what I wasn’t even entirely sure, and heat pooled in my belly. For a long time the only sound in the dark was our rapid breathing. “Lily,” he said quietly, imploringly. “I pride myself on my self-control, but I’m a man, and not a good one either. So far I’ve tried to be a gentleman. I know you’re sad and lonely, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. But if you go the next step and offer more, then you can’t expect me not to take you up on that offer.”
“Maybe I want you to.” My heart pounded in my chest as the words left my mouth.
Romero brushed his lips over my temple, the barest touch that made me tingle. “Do you even know what you’re offering, Lily?”
I hesitated.
Romero released a long breath, kissed my forehead and began to pull back.
I gripped his shoulders, even through his t-shirt his heat seemed to scorch me. “Sometimes when I’m alone I try to imagine how it would feel if you touched me.”
“Fuck,” he breathed. And then he kissed me gently before pulling back again. Even my hands couldn’t stop him this time.
“Why are you pulling away?”
“Lights.”
“Lights?” I said nervously.
“I need to see your face.” The lights came on and I blinked against the sudden brightness. He lay down beside me but he kept one arm around my waist. “When you imagine my touch, do you ever caress yourself?” he asked in a low voice.
My eyes widened a fraction and heat crept into my face. Romero cupped my cheek and traced the blush there. “Tell me,” he said.
I lowered my gaze to his chin. “Yes,” I admitted in barely a whisper. What would he think of me now?
Romero pressed his nose into my hair. “Fuck.”
“You said that already.”
He didn’t laugh like I’d expected him to. He was very quiet. His hand on my waist tightened when he raised his head and fixed me with a hungry gaze. He brought his mouth down on mine and I parted my lips for him. His tongue slipped in and everything around me seemed to fade to nothingness as I tasted him. It wasn’t our first kiss but it felt like something else entirely, with me in bed with him, with nothing to stop us. His kiss was fiercer. There was no hesitation or surprise this time. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth, then my tongue. He sucked it lightly, and I wasn’t sure how it was possible that I felt the motion all the way between my legs.
“Is this okay?” he murmured against my throat and all I could do was nod. Aria and Gianna always called me a chatterbox but with Romero words so often failed me. His lips lightly traced the skin over my collarbone, then his tongue slid out to taste me. His mouth moved even lower to the edge of my camisole. His fingers traced the fabric and his lips followed the same path. I arched my back, wanting him to move even lower, to do more.
“You told me I should find out how you taste everywhere. I’m very tempted to do it,” he murmured. He peered up. His eyes had a predatory look on his face. The only expression that had ever come close was when he’d been down in the basement with the Russians. There was something dark and unhinged in his brown eyes, but this time I wasn’t afraid. “What do you want?” he asked roughly.
If only I knew. “More,” I said softly.
Romero lowered his gaze to my chest. My nipples strained against the thin material of my camisole, hard and aching for attention. Romero lightly traced his thumb over one nub and I gasped.
“Like this?” he asked.
I nodded furiously. “More.”
Romero chuckled, and the sound made me ache even more for his touch. He took both of my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and lightly twisted them back and forth through the silk. I squeezed my eyes shut at the sensation between my legs. I pressed my thighs together, desperate for some kind of relief. Romero cupped my nipple with his lips, sucking it gently into his mouth. For some reason the fabric seemed to heighten the sensations even more. I was close to exploding. His hand brushed my hipbone before it moved under the hem of my camisole and softly traced my stomach. Goose-bumps covered my skin at the light touch. He released my nipple but the wet fabric of my camisole stuck to it. I couldn’t believe this was finally happening.
Romero moved onto my other nipple and repeated the same procedure. I rubbed my thighs together. The tension between them was almost unbearable. Romero’s eyes followed the movement before they darted up to my face. “Do you want me to touch you there?”
I nodded quickly. Romero smiled. He trailed his hand down my side until he reached my thigh. He stroked the outer side lightly, his eyes never leaving my face, making sure I was okay. His strokes moved closer to my inner thigh until I wanted nothing more than to grasp his hand and push it into my panties. As if he could feel my impatience, Romero tugged lightly at my shorts. I opened my legs without even thinking about it, a silent invitation. Was I being too forward? I didn’t care.