the taste of Allie on his tongue.
She moaned and arched her back, offering herself further. “Stroke your cock, Roman. For me.”
He froze, nearly coming on the spot at her words. Fuck, woman, I’m keeping you.
Keeping one hand bracketing her thigh, he made a fist around his cock and stroked hard. He was already close from her sucking him off, but he wasn’t about to let himself come before she did. He flicked her clit with his tongue, alternating between circles and those vertical motions that he knew she liked. A frenzy took hold and he devoured her, driven on by her moans and writhing. She was close. So fucking close. His balls drew up, and he fucked her with his tongue, growling against her pussy. Needing more.
Needing her.
Allie laced her fingers through his hair, riding his mouth and crying his name as she orgasmed. He gripped his cock harder, roughening his strokes as he followed her over the edge, coming hard enough that he saw stars. He drew back enough to kiss first one of her thighs and then the other, then he pulled her skirt back down over her hips. “Now it’s time for dinner.”
* * *
Allie slouched in her chair, feeling completely boneless. “That’s one way to start a meal.”
“Mmm. Yes.” Roman kissed her stomach and then adjusted her clothing to its correct place. He did up his pants just as efficiently, and she mourned the loss of the sight of him. The man was built magnificently and as good as he looked in clothes, he looked even better out of them.
He set about doling out food onto two plates with an easy, almost professional quickness. When he nudged a crooked fork back into place, she knew it had to be true. “How long were you a waiter?”
“Six years. My parents paid for my college, but they are big believers in working for anything worth having, so the rest was up to me. I handled room and board and books and all the other bullshit expenses that show up when you’re in college by working at a local restaurant.” He shook his head. “I will never do it again. Lifetime food service workers are either saints or insane, because nothing brings out the asshole in people as much as the little power they think they have when they’re out to dinner.”
From the comments he’d made, she’d assumed he’d grown up with money, but knowing he’d had to work for at least part of it made her like him better. “Bet you tip really well.”
“I can afford to.” He shrugged as if that made a damn bit of difference.
Allie examined her food, giving him a brief break from a subject that obviously made him uncomfortable. Interesting. He hadn’t minded talking about working the job, but anything resembling evidence that he might be a good guy and he was suddenly closemouthed. She took a sip of wine. “I was a bartender my college years. O’Leary’s.” She saw from his look that he knew it. “Rich guys are the worst tippers out there—unless they think they have a shot at getting into your pants. Trust me, it’s not something that your waitstaff take for granted.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?” She set her glass down and gave him her full attention.
Roman studied her. “Convince me that I’m not a total piece of shit. I already know I’m not. I might not be the best guy out there, but I’m a far cry from the worst. I’m solidly average.”
Allie snorted before she could stop herself. “Roman, you are many things, but average is not one of them.” And she wasn’t just talking about the size of his cock. He was obviously driven and smart and clever, and he’d done well for himself.
Even though she knew better, she still asked, “Why are you in this brand of investments? Why not stockbroking or something that—” Allie cut herself off before she could finish that thought aloud. Why not something that doesn’t involve taking from other people?
From the look he gave her, he knew exactly where her mind had gone. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m not the enemy—not yours and not any of the others whose businesses I help pair up with investors. Most of them thank me in the end.”
She had no doubt about that. Roman was hardly a snake oil salesman, but the force of his personality was often in danger of eclipsing all else—like common sense and reason. If he focused the entirety of it on a person, eventually he’d have them convinced that the sky was green and up was down. Even now, she was trying to find a way for it to make sense that he was the good guy and not the boogeyman under the bed that she’d assumed for months.
In truth, he was neither the bad guy nor the dream vacation fling—at least not in full. Reality was a lot more complicated.
Allie took a long drink of her wine and poked at the food on her plate. “You understand where I’m coming from with this.”
He didn’t answer for several beats. “You want to talk about business?”
Did she? The longer they were together, the clearer it became that they’d have to talk eventually—probably before they actually left the island...but she didn’t want it to be tonight. She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Another of those searching looks. “We can talk, Allie. We’re both adults, and as much as I enjoy the hell out of fucking you, I want to get to know you better.”
That sounded like... She didn’t know what that sounded like. It didn’t fit in with her preconceptions of their boundaries. It didn’t fit with anything. Allie swallowed against the panic welling inside her. It was just a conversation. She wasn’t agreeing to anything just because she was talking with him. She’d been talking with him this entire trip. It just felt different this time.
Meaningful.
She took a breath, and then another. “Do you have...hobbies?”
Roman smiled gently, as if he knew what the question had cost her. “I work a shit ton, so I don’t have much in the way of time. But I box a couple times a week at my gym—nothing crazy or competitive. Just sparring.”
She could see it. He certainly had the upper body of a boxer, though his legs were just as solid as the rest of him. “Boxing and yoga. That’s quite the combination.” He was experienced with yoga. She’d been doing it for years, and she still had trouble with some of the poses he’d pulled off the other morning.
“They both help with my stress level, albeit in different ways.”
“I bet they do.” She cocked her head to the side. “Doesn’t leave much time for social stuff.” Like recognized like—between running the gym and teaching classes, she had nothing in the way of free time.
“How did you get into the gym business?” He held up his hand before she could speak. “I’m not talking about your business right now—I want to know why you chose that route.”
She started to consider how she wanted to answer that, but exhaustion rolled over her. Allie was so damn tired of having to watch what she said around him. If she trusted Roman enough to give him full control of her body, she should trust him enough to have a conversation without worrying that he’d twist it around to use it against her.
Maybe it was time for a tiny leap of faith.
Allie
