Breathe You In (Sweet Torment 1)

Quickly, I crawled across the backseat and hiked my dress up so that I could straddle Roman’s lap.

“Amy…” Again, his voice held both warning and dare.

I chose to only hear the dare.

Winding my fingers in his hair, I gripped him hard and pressed my lips against his. All the heat and angst poured out, and I couldn’t stop. I was calling his bluff on emotion-free sex. At the moment, he didn’t seem to have his feelings in check, and neither did I. When I bit his bottom lip, he growled and gripped my ass.

“I warned you,” he said against my mouth before plunging his tongue inside.

I moaned and returned his attentions. Dueling and tasting each other like our lives depended on it. With a firm grip, he ground me against him. His thick erection pressed against me, making me groan again. He felt so good. So strong and safe.

Holding on to his shoulders, I twisted my hips and rocked against him, harder, faster. Even with our clothing between us, the pressure of him against me sent shivers of pleasure along every inch of my skin.

“Shit, Amy.” His fingers dug into the backs of my thighs. He was close, I could feel it. Because I was right there with him. It didn’t take much—all our pent up need was on the brink of bursting.

I rolled my hips again and swallowed his growling response with an even deeper kiss.

He not only wanted me, he cared about me. I was sure about that because, try though he had to convince me otherwise last night, this wasn’t just physical for him. It couldn’t be. He could have let me walk home the other night, but he came after me. He could have let me get swept up in a panic attack, but he brought me back from the abyss.

Maybe I was grasping at straws—or maybe I was right. Maybe Roman didn’t separate sex from feelings as well as either of us had thought. Whatever he was attempting to accomplish by keeping a distance between us wasn’t working. When we were together, there was a connection.

I wanted to feel that connection again and apparently, so did Roman, because he wasn’t pushing me away, he was pulling me closer.

“Take me,” I begged, reaching between us to unfasten his pants.

“You sure you’re ready?” he said, kissing my neck while his fingers disappeared beneath my dress to toy with my panties, pushing them aside.

“Yes, I’m very ready.”

He retrieved a condom from his inside jacket pocket and lifted his hips enough so that I could tug his pants down and free his hard cock. With my dress falling around us, I couldn’t see it, but I felt it brushing against my inner thighs.

He rolled the latex on. I was already arching into him, seeking him. With one hand on my hip, he gripped himself with the other. My panties still pushed aside, I rose enough to take the head of his cock into my depths, then slowly sank down.

“Fuck,” he rasped. When sheathed to the hilt, he began moving me.

I kissed him, pausing only to whisper his name.

He moved me faster. Harder. In and out several times, only to slam me down while pumping his hips up, forcing his entire length as deep as possible.

Holding on to the back of his neck, I threw my head back. He sucked and bit along the column of my throat. Hot and savage, he worked my body closer to the edge only he could bring me to.

“Come, Amy,” he said against my collarbone. “Come for me.”

We moved back and forth, up

and down, until I was helpless against his demand.

With a strangled gasp, my body pricked as if wasps had been unleashed beneath my skin. The intensity of my orgasm was shocking. I held on to Roman tighter as he thrust hard, his body quaking from his own release.

I kissed the top of his head, his temple, his ear. Loving how he felt, enveloping me even as I melted into him. We had each other. This was the moment I’d been craving. The reason I knew this was more. We were more. What had just happened had held more emotion than the last seven years of my life put together.

The car came to a stop, but I didn’t move off of him. “Roman.” I kissed him softly on the lips and whispered. “Come inside with me.”

He instantly stilled, and as though my skin had turned to dry ice beneath his fingers, he yanked them away.

I pulled back enough to see his eyes smoldering with a very different kind of intensity than they’d held a few moments ago. His eyes remained on mine, but he didn’t say a word. Perhaps this was one of those moments when the truth was so dangerous, he had to think before speaking.

“Look,” I ran my palms down his chest, “I know I have some issues, but there’s something here, something more than…” I wanted to say “the arrangement,” but couldn’t.