Black Obsidian (Obsidian 1)

She nodded. “That’s very generous of you.”

“What about you?” This was an answer I was eager for. I knew nothing about her prior to her years in college. She changed her name at one point, and she was untraceable. It was like she was in the witness protection program—off the map.

“I didn’t have a great childhood. My parents were drug addicts, and I grew up in a foster home. That’s where I met Christopher.” She said the words so simply, like she was talking about the weather when she visited the beach. The expression in her eyes didn’t change, and her voice didn’t shake.

“I’m so sorry.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could restrain them. Pity rose in my heart, and I wanted to fix everything for her. I wanted to go back in time and get her out of there. I wanted to protect her from the horrible things she must have seen.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t feel bad for me.” The same strength I saw in the bar that night came back into her features. She was a fireball that couldn’t be doused with water. She burned brighter, making everything else look dark in comparison. “Don’t pity me. Christopher and I got out of that situation and made lives for ourselves. We may not have parents, but we have each other—and that’s always been good enough for both of us. We have a place to call home, and we have food on the table. I’m the very last person you should feel bad for.”

Her resolve only made me want her more. She refused to have a pity party for herself, and when she spoke of her past, she didn’t choke. With a spine made of steel, she was powerful and strong. When life pushed her down, she got back on her feet and stood even taller. That resilience was sexier than any submissive I’d ever had—even those with all their daddy issues. This woman was fire and ice mixed together. She was painfully beautiful. “I don’t. I admire you.”

Her hard expression softened. “Thank you.”

Now I wanted to fuck her even more. We just had to get through this dinner, and I would offer to take her home. Once we were outside her door, I would kiss her until she invited me inside. I needed to get naked with this woman and fuck her all through the night. My dick needed to be inside her yesterday.

We did the check dance before I finally got my money to the waiter. I suspected she would try to pay for her meal because that was just the kind of woman she was. And I was right. She fought me until she finally lost, but if she were my submissive, the fight wouldn’t have taken place at all.

We walked outside, and I headed to my car parked off the street. When I realized she wasn’t walking with me, I turned back to her. “Let me give you a ride home. Those heels must be a bitch to walk in.” She wore them like sandals, but I knew they must hurt the balls of her feet.

“I’ll wave down a cab. Thank you for dinner.” She looked up at me with her striking green eyes, hiding something below the surface.

“I don’t mind taking you home. It’s the least I can do since I didn’t pick you up.” Actually, she wouldn’t let me pick her up.

“Really, it’s okay.”

My left hand formed a fist, and I had to battle for dominion. I wanted to tell her to shut her mouth and get into the car, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. She wasn’t ready to see my dark side even though I was ready to unleash it. “Rome.”

She straightened when I said her name, picking up on my tone.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

This time, I couldn’t hold back. I snapped. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t waste my time by treating me like an idiot.”

She stilled at my command, and instead of being offended, she seemed embarrassed. “I would love it if you took me home. But I don’t trust myself around you. I know the second we’re in front of my door, I’m going to jump in your arms and wrap my legs around your waist.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” It sounded like a pretty damn good picture to me.

“I don’t want to rush this.”

“Why?” Getting straight to the good stuff was how I did things.

“Because I like you, Calloway.” She looked into my eyes with her bright ones, looking like a dream come true with her vulnerability. She only lied to me to protect herself, and the moment she was honest again, she was gorgeous. I loved seeing that expression on her face—like she trusted me with the truth.

“I like you too, Rome.” Like wasn’t an appropriate word to express my feelings. Obsessed was more like it. I’d wanted to get under that skirt the second I laid eyes on her. It was all I’d been thinking about with my hand wrapped around my hard cock. But I wanted the real thing, and I was tired of waiting. She wanted me, I wanted her—end of story.