Rome's Chance (Reapers MC #6.6)(29)

“I don’t know,” he replied, his face serious. “Can we?”

I took a deep breath, raising my hand to lay it on his chest. His heart pounded, and I could feel how much he still wanted me. But he wasn’t scaring me, not anymore. My own desire flared back to life, and my legs felt suddenly weak.

“Yes.”

He nodded, then turned away for a second, running a hand through his hair. When he turned back, he was smiling again. The smile seemed a little strained, but it was definitely there.

“Let’s go up and check out the hay loft,” he said, reaching out his hand. I took it, feeling the spark of sexual tension that still hummed between us as he guided me across the shop to a set of stairs in the back.

They were more of a ladder than steps, I realized. I started up, torn between nerves and excitement. I didn’t know what would happen next, but I thought it would be good. Maybe we’d talk, maybe we’d roll around in the hay. Either way, Rome had listened. He wasn’t mad, and I had the feeling that even if we didn’t have sex today, he wouldn’t treat me like shit the next time he saw me in the grocery store.

And he would see me, I realized. Because I was moving back to town as soon as I found a job.

That would complicate things. But we were here now, and I wanted to be here and maybe I didn’t need to worry about the rest until later. Maybe I should just enjoy the moment.

The loft surprised me. I don’t know what I expected—hay bales and dusty streams of sunlight, probably. What I found was an open gallery that might have held hay decades ago but was mostly held dust now. There was storage along both sides, but toward the back sat a couch, a chair, a coffee table, and an old TV.

“Is this your man cave?” I asked, giving him a shy smile.

“I don’t think I can answer,” he replied lightly, coming to stand next to me. “I’m still recovering from watching your ass go up the stairs in those jeans.”

“Maybe I should’ve made you climb up first,” I said, feeling daring.

“Climbing those stairs may be the highlight of my day. I have no regrets,” he announced, and I laughed, looking around.

“How did you get this stuff up here?”

“Me and my brother used the old block and tackle that they hauled the hay up with. Back in high school.”

I walked over to the couch, which had a comfortable, broken-in look to it. There were a few blankets, too. I half expected to find a bong on the table. “Party place?”

Rome didn’t answer for a moment, and I wondered if I’d said something wrong. Then he caught my hand, swinging me around to wrap me in his arms. Must’ve imagined it.

“Sometimes. We pulled a lot of shit and the folks took it in stride, but I don’t think any of us were brave enough to throw a real party here. There’s a lot of valuable equipment downstairs, and the wood is old and dry. The whole place is a fire trap.”

I tilted my head up and looked at him, trying to decide how brave I was feeling. Brave enough to kiss him again, I realized. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I rose up on my toes and touched my lips to his neck. Rome stood still for a few seconds, his muscles hard. My tongue darted out against his skin, the invitation clear. He groaned, hands reaching down to cup my butt, and I felt his length swell against my stomach.

Moving slowly, he boosted me up. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, and our mouths met for the second time that afternoon. This time it was right.

It was still intense.

Rome wanted to fuck me. Bad. I felt it in the restrained tension of his shoulders, and the way his breath caught when I twisted my hips against his. But he also let me take the lead. Not in a passive way, just patient. Our kisses deepened, and the need burned hotter, waves of desire pulsing up and down my spine. My breasts seemed to swell, and my nipples tightened. I tried to imagine what he’d feel like inside me.

Over me.

All that restrained power of his was terrifying, but it was thrilling, too. Rome could carry me around like a doll, yet one word earlier and he’d let me go. He was strong but controlled.

What could a man do to a woman with that kind of control over his body?

I wanted to find out.

“Rome,” I whispered. He stilled, his name hanging between us. “I’m ready to do this now.”

“Thank fuck,” he muttered.

Giving me another kiss, he swung me around and sat down on the couch, my body straddling his. His dick pressed up between my legs, pushing me in exactly the right place. I swiveled my hips, wondering if it’d be slutty to just rip off my jeans and go for it.

Or had the slut ship sailed last night when he’d dry humped me to climax against a wall?

Probably.

Rising to my knees, I slid my hand down between us, our mouths still glued together. Rome moaned into my mouth, his head falling backward as my fingers found his cock through the fabric. Attacking his neck again, I jacked him once, twice, and his entire body shivered.

Then he shocked the hell out of me.

“Stop,” he said, reaching down to catch my hand.

“Stop?” What had I done wrong?

Rome swallowed, eyes dark with desire, but he pulled my hand away. I settled back down over him, wondering if he’d felt this confused when I freaked out earlier.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice rough. “Remember? We were going to go for a ride and talk.”