LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(24)

His warm hand landed on my lower back as I set down the stack of dishes on the counter. I almost fumbled the entire stack into the sink when I felt his touch. I sucked in a breath at the feel of him.

“Leave them,” he said. There was a gruffness to his voice.

My eyes fluttered shut. “I really don’t mind,” I told him, my own voice sounding breathy and strange. “If you let them sit too long, they’ll be a bitch to clean and then—”

“I don’t care.” His fingers curled against my lower back. I had to clench my hands to keep from turning and grabbing him.

“But—”

He leaned closer. Heat radiated from his body, searing the length of me. His breath tickled the back of my ear and I shuddered. “I’m only going to ask this once because this has to be your choice, Scotty. And I don’t want you saying yes out of any sense of obligation for what you think you might owe me because you don’t owe me a thing. You understand that?”

He paused. Belatedly, I realized he was waiting for an answer. I nodded my head, not sure I could actually form words right now.

“And I don’t want you saying yes because you think I hold some sort of power because I’m a celebrity because I don’t. I’m just a man with a job that’s more visible than most,” he continued. “Okay?”

I nodded again. I realized I was holding my breath, but try as I might, I couldn’t force myself to exhale. If he didn’t get to the point soon, I was afraid I was going to die. Which was a shame because I was pretty sure I’d want to be alive and conscious for what I hoped was coming next.

Roman lowered his head so that I could just barely feel the scrape of his jaw against the side of my neck as he spoke. “I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t want to kiss you pretty fucking badly, Scotty. So I need you to think about whether or not—”

Halle-fucking-llujah. Before he could say another word, I turned around and launched myself at his face.





8





Roman





In Bizarre Turn Of Events, Burke Bottoms… Or Does He?



Finally I had Scotty in my arms. And it was every bit as amazing as I’d hoped it would be. The moment he jumped in for the kiss, I grabbed the back of his head and held him to me, taking in the feel of his lips, his warm breath, his soft skin. Within seconds, we were tangled around each other, dishes forgotten. He climbed up my body until his arms were wrapped around my head and his legs around my waist. I held him under the ass and kneaded his cheeks with a groan.

“Jesus fuck I want you, Roman,” he moaned into my mouth. “So much. Please.”

The words sent a shudder through me. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” I told him between kisses. And it was true. Scotty was so vulnerable and sweet, nervous and sexy. Something about him called out to me more strongly than anything I’d felt in a long time, if ever.

I wanted him so badly, I’d spent the entire mealtime with my fist closed under the table so tightly, my nails making painful crescent-moon marks in my palm. I was surprised dinner was even edible given how distracted I’d been cooking it.

The number of times I’d wanted to turn and pin him against the cabinets and kiss him senseless was ridiculous, but I hadn’t wanted to scare him. And I sure as hell hadn’t wanted him to feel obligated out of some kind of weird sense of payback for me taking care of him and his horse.

Which is why I’d tried to lay it out there in words. To give him the chance to think, to say no, to protect himself from doing something stupid. Because being with me was stupid as hell. Anyone who even looked at me funny wound up on the cover of a magazine with accusations and rumors spinning wildly around the world. The most serious relationship I’d ever experienced had ended because of the invasion of privacy involved in dating me. Pete had loved me, I knew he had, but it hadn’t been enough in the end. The paparazzi had been brutal.

I couldn’t bear for the same thing to happen to Scotty. The thought of all that vibrance leeching away under the constant pressure of the press was too much to bear.

But the press wasn’t here, I reminded myself. We were alone, protected for now. And I’d given Scotty the chance to choose, and he’d chosen this. Me. “God I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you.”

He smiled against my mouth. “Me too. Tried to tease you in the towel back in the city,” he admitted breathlessly. “Didn’t work.”

“It worked,” I growled. “Drove me crazy.”

Scotty kissed me again, deeper and longer. “You didn’t come after me. I thought maybe it was because you were with Polly.” He hesitated a beat before adding, “Or that you just weren’t interested.”

I rested his ass on the counter and pulled back until I could meet his eyes. They were semi-glassy, and his skin was flushed pink. He looked so kiss-drunk, I wanted to devour him, but I needed to make a few things clear.

“Scotty, first of all, I am definitely very, very interested. Like can’t-take-my-hands-off-you-against-my-better-judgment interested. You got that?”

He frowned. “Against your better judgment?”

“I don’t really know you yet, Scotty, but nevertheless, I’ve brought you into my residence. Twice. You could have an ulterior motive.”