Rome (Marked Men #3)(36)

And I did. I wanted to start it and finish it and enjoy everything in between. He was so different from Jimmy, and honestly, troubled or not, I could see he was so much better. Rome Archer was a force to be reckoned with, a storm brewing of broken thoughts and dangerous demons, of misplaced responsibility and unknown future. I wasn’t sure, but I had a sinking suspicion I might be one of the few able to withstand the destruction left by that storm’s aftermath, and even though my old fear was there, it wasn’t as strong as the attraction I felt for this enigmatic man.

He didn’t respond, but I saw his chest rise and fall as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Cora.” I could hear the hesitation in his tone. “I don’t juggle women and I don’t think I could be any more honest with you than I already have been. But I’m still not the guy you’re looking for, and that hasn’t changed since the other morning. Perfect isn’t even in my vocabulary, even if you are cute enough to make me want to try and be.”

He tapped a finger to his temple, and I saw the shadow move over his eyes. He might not be one hundred percent, but I was starting to think any portion of Rome was better than most men operating at full capacity. I was good with words, could tell him that something about him just got to me, that I thought he was hotter than any guy should be, that I liked that he didn’t just back down from me. Instead I decided that since he was a man of action, I would just show him I knew what I was doing and knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted the last word in this and there really was only one surefire way to get it.

I grabbed the hem of my sundress and whipped it up and off over my head. The bright material landed in a heap on the floor and I was left in my yellow wedges and cute pink underwear. One thing about having small boobs was I didn’t have to really worry about a bra if I didn’t want to. Apparently Rome was a fan of small boobs, because his eyes lit up like a lighter flicking to life. Even in my chunky shoes, with him barefoot, when I made my way to where he was standing, stock-still, the top of my head barely reached his chin. I had to look up at him, and when I did, I put one hand on either side of his face so he couldn’t look away from me.

Those blue, blue eyes got heavy-lidded and dropped just a fraction, which made my blood get all warm and slippery under my skin.

“Don’t be scared, Captain No-Fun, we got this.”

He put his big hands on my naked waist and started to walk me back toward the bed in the center of the room. It would be so easy to be intimidated by a guy like him, only he was looking at me like I was something so unique and so precious that all I could feel was anticipation. That grin that was probably going to make me fall in love with him broke across his face, and I knew that whatever it was I was doing with this man, who was so the opposite of what I thought I wanted, was the right thing. He wasn’t steady, he was most definitely not a man content with his current circumstances, and I was pretty sure his idea of what being a partner to someone looked like was totally different from mine. I still didn’t know that he wanted to be all in with me or even with himself but the pull, the undeniable current of want and need that seemed to loop around us, was just too much to dismiss for a dream that had yet to come along.

“I told you last night you know better than anyone what my idea of fun entails.” His thumb brushed across the jewels dotting my side and trailed up over a nipple that was now straining and begging for attention. The back of my knees hit the bed, and before I knew it, I was on my back and he was looming over me all naked skin and glowing eyes. It was beautiful, he was beautiful, and no matter what happened after this point, I knew I was a lucky girl to be here with him.

“Are you actually going to talk to me this time?”

I put my hands in his short hair as he worked on getting my shoes off and the cute little underwear out of his way. I liked that he was kind of rough, a little impatient, but there was always reverence when his fingers brushed my skin. He kissed me once and dropped the towel.

“Probably not.”

He put his hands under my hips and moved me toward the edge of the bed. I slid my hands down to his shoulders and propped his chin up with the edge of my knuckle so that he was looking at me.

“Why not?”

He ran his hands down the length of one leg and situated me so that my legs were off the bed and he was standing at the apex of them. I was exposed, open to him, and should have felt vulnerable or maybe even shy, but it was impossible to feel anything but appreciated and sexy with the way those eyes burned when he looked at me. My breath got caught in my lungs and couldn’t escape when he touched that little tiny ring situated at the heart of me with just the tip of his index finger. Everything was slick and damp, and his touch just made it all burn hotter.

“Because I’m freaked out that whatever I say might be the wrong thing. And right now, being with you is the one thing that feels solid and real … You’re so full of color, so vibrant you never get lost in all the gray in my head. I don’t want to lose that.”

My heart caught. Those were words a woman would never forget a man saying to her, especially when they came from a man like this. I got my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss that I hoped conveyed how I felt. I arched up off the bed when his finger abandoned the jewelry and went in search of more intimate, deeper territory. I felt those thick digits slide through my folds, brush against quivering nerve endings, play with all the parts of me that were achy and greedy for his touch. He used his thumb to press down on my clit, which had the added benefit of rubbing the smooth edge of my piercing against all those tightly wound centers of pleasure. He knew just how to stroke me, to play me to get the best result.