LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(27)

It all came together and exploded into a vision of sparks. My entire body contracted and then expanded in waves of shock and pleasure. I cried out his name as I spilled all over his hand and the bed. My body squeezed his dick even more, and he grunted in my ear before pushing in one last time and holding me tight through his own release.

Even after he was done, he held me firmly to him. My hand still pressed his palm to my cheek, and my other hand was threaded back into his hair behind my head. Our heartbeats thumped wildly as we came down from our orgasms, and our skin stuck damply to each other.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ever had sex like that. If I’d ever had sex like that—hot and tangled and desperate and shattering. That had been some kind of “going off to war” sex. Or “I’ve wanted you for twenty years” sex. Not “we’re alone and horny for tonight” sex. Certainly not “one and done” sex.

At least, that’s how it had felt to me. But it was entirely possible he hadn’t had the same experience I had. Wasn’t it?

Roman began to move. He pressed a long, chaste kiss into my temple before grasping the condom and pulling out. He moved away from me, presumably to clean up, but it felt awful. Cold, lonely.

The wetness of my release cooled uncomfortably between my stomach and the bedding, and the air in the room did the same to the sweat on my skin. I pushed up onto my hands and knees and then sat back on my heels in the middle of the mattress, wondering if I was supposed to get up and find another bedroom.

I wrapped my arms around my chest, holding myself as a chill worked its way across my damp skin. It occurred to me that Roman had to be used to people throwing themselves at him for quick fucks. He was a movie star for Christ’s sake. Which made me wonder if that made me the equivalent of just another notch on his bedpost, or whatever the saying was?

I let my chin drop. I’d gotten carried away in the moment. I’d allowed myself to believe the fantasy that Roman Burke was actually interested in me. How absurd was that?

And then he was there. Standing in front of me with a wet washcloth and a clean hand towel. Looking at me like I was the most treasured thing on the planet. “Baby, lie down,” he murmured.

Without thinking, I shifted onto my back. Roman leaned in and went to work with the hot cloth, wiping me down while telling me how amazing I was and how hot the sex had been. His voice was gentle and reverent, and not at all the way someone who was only interested in a quick fuck would behave.

I began to wonder just how much of my stupid assumptions had come from stereotyping him as some kind of entitled superstar instead of giving him the respect of judging him based on his actions and words.

When he was done with the wet cloth, he tossed it away and began going over the same body parts on me with the dry hand towel, all the while still nattering on about how great the sex had been and how good I’d felt underneath him.

He was so fucking sweet. I simply watched him in awe as he took care of me with such tenderness. When he was done, he finally caught me staring.

Roman actually blushed. It was fucking adorable. “What? Am I rambling? Sorry.”

I reached out and hauled him back on top of me, wrapping my legs around him and pulling his face in with my hands so we were eye to eye. I shivered at how deliciously warm he was, how instantly the chill in the air disappeared under his weight.

“That was amazing,” I told him. “And anytime you want to ramble about how good I am in bed, I’m totally here for it,” I added.

His face opened into a happy grin. “Good. Because I might not be able to stop. It’s been a long time since someone made me feel that way.”

Roman leaned in and kissed me sweetly and slowly, lingering inside my mouth before gently tugging at my lower lip with his teeth. When he finally let go, his face was serious. “Stay with me tonight?”

I was so giddy at the invitation, I took a second to keep from blurting out, “Hell yeah,” while pumping my fist in the air.

Roman must have mistaken my pause for hesitation. “Or not.” He started to pull away. “Obviously you don’t have to. Just pick any of the bedrooms…”

I clapped my hand over his mouth. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m using your ass like a furnace.”

His face lit up again like a little kid as we both scrambled under the covers. Immediately, Roman reached for me and yanked me against his side. “Get over here.”

I laid my head on his shoulder and wrapped my arm over his broad chest, running fingers around the contours of his muscles. One of his hands toyed with my hair while the other rubbed up my arm.

“How did you get into horses?” he asked after a few minutes. It was clear from our wandering hands on each other that neither one of us was quite ready to sleep just yet.

“My mom used to have a job cleaning apartments,” I told him. “When I was like five, she cleaned three different apartments in this one building, and right next door were the stables where the carriage horses lived. So a few times if I didn’t have school or it was summer break or whatever, she’d have to take me with her. But she couldn’t take me into the apartments, so she told me to play in the park across the street until she was done. De Witt Clinton Park on Eleventh and Fifth-Third, you know it?” I lifted my head to look at him, but he shook his.

I was careful not to include any of the uglier parts of that time in our lives, especially my mom’s attempt to teach me how to grift while I was at the park.