“It’s personal.”
She told me something personal about herself, so I could tell her something personal about me. “That’s fine.”
“When you said you were my boyfriend, did you mean we’re exclusive?”
“You bet your ass I did.” If she even hugged another man, I’d be livid about it. I hadn’t fucked her, but she was mine. I wished I could give her a black ring to put on her right hand so people would stay the fuck away from her.
“So…you aren’t seeing anyone else?” The hope picked up in her voice.
I swallowed the insult deep down into my gut. “No. You’re the only woman I’ve touched, kissed, or pretty much looked at since I saw you in that bar.”
Her eyes softened, and a small smile formed on her face. “You’re such a catch. I guess I’m surprised you aren’t playing the field more. You know, sowing your seeds.”
“There’s only one field I want to sow my seeds in.” My cock twitched at the thought of her pussy overflowing with my cum. “I’m a one-woman kind of guy when I meet the right person.” Isabella and I were exclusive because she was the perfect submissive. Prior to that, I had short-term flings with strangers. It was never about playing the field. I’d always been seeking the perfect sub to fulfill my fantasies like no one else ever could.
“And you think I’m the right woman?”
“Yes.” I gripped her thighs and pulled her closer to me.
“Why?” She tilted her head to the side again, interested in my response.
I couldn’t tell her the truth, that she looked like the ultimate woman I could break. She was strong as steel, and I didn’t want to bend her, but snap her in two. One day, I would come clean about my intentions. But, for now, I couldn’t. “It’s one of those situations where you can’t explain what you see and what you feel. Like a rock deep in the pit of your stomach, you just know it’s there. All I know is, when I saw you walk into that bar, I was a goner. And when you slapped me, with that fire in your eyes, I knew I’d met a woman powerful, strong, and resilient as fuck. And that turned me on like nothing ever has.”
She hung on to every word, trying to understand what I meant. “You liked it when I slapped you?”
She put me on the spot, so I answered. “Yeah. You’ve got spunk. I like that.”
“Even though I didn’t bother to make sure I had the right man?”
I searched her face, concentrating on those beautiful green eyes that always took me to a peaceful place. “You did have the right man.” I pulled her ass closer to me until her chest was right in my face. I leaned my head on the back of the couch and looked up at her, her dark hair forming a curtain around my face. My hand fisted the back of her head, gripping her strands. I looked up at her and listened to her breathing, noticing how uneven it was. It was the most romantic thing I’d ever said to a woman, and being romantic was never my intention.
She pressed her face into mine and kissed me softly, her lips desperate for mine in a restrained way. Her hands cupped my face, and she deepened the kiss, her bottom grinding over my cock.
It was the first time I didn’t want sex. I was hard as hell and eager for her, but this was enough for me. Just feeling her lips was enough to satisfy me. I pulled her closer and continued the tender embrace. When I was with her, I was a different man. I wasn’t so callused and hard. Somehow, I had a heart that I had assumed stopped beating a long time ago.
And I had a soul.
It was nearly midnight, and we both had work in the morning. On top of that, I had to go to Ruin and check on a few things. Jackson wasn’t trustworthy when it came to the business side of things. He tried to be responsible but always got sidetracked by the company inside the club—not that I blamed him. But that meant Rome needed to go home.
She was on top of my chest on the couch, her hair a mess across my shirt. A red blanket covered her torso and kept her warm, and my body was a natural heater to fight the cold. I didn’t want to move her, but I didn’t want to have a sleepover.
It practically gave me anxiety.
I sat up and moved her with me, my hands circling her petite waist. I adjusted her against my chest so she wouldn’t tip over and fall back on the couch. A waft of vanilla and lavender hit my nose, her scent mingled with the light perfume she wore. Every time I smelled her, it was a little different. She was always changing it up like her outfits. “It’s getting late. Let’s get you home.”