My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(36)

“Jared,” Romeo snarled, touching the door handle. “Stick around. I’ll head to the penthouse in about an hour.”

No please.

No thank you.

And, I realized, this poor excuse for a man, who had just confessed to being in love with his ex, expected me to perform oral sex on him before he retired to his bachelor pad.

As a reward for my good behavior, no less.

I could inform him he was wrong…or I could teach him I was more than an innocent little fawn and scare him off until the wedding.

For the first time in my life, I chose education.

We made our way to the door. Silence hummed between us like a dramatic backing track.

He opened it, letting me walk in first. “Your posture was weak, but otherwise, you performed well.”

His version of a compliment, I guessed.

No wonder Morgan had dumped him. The man was as warm as Uranus.

I kept silent, focused on storming up to my room without stabbing him. A win in my book.

He followed one step behind.

“Actually.” I turned, placing a hand on his chest.

His pecs flexed beneath his Eton dress shirt. He appeared mildly aware of my existence for a change.

“Could you bring some whipped cream from downstairs?” I bit my bottom lip. “I’ve always had this fantasy…”

His expression clouded. “No.”

“Romeo, O, Romeo.” I knotted my arms over his shoulders, pressing my body against his. He was hard everywhere. And I meant everywhere. Poor Morgan might’ve had his heart, but his cock, it appeared, was community property. “That’s my dream.”

He peeled my arms off him. “Find a better one.”

Plastering on my longing, purest gaze that always got Daddy to bend for my will, I whispered, “It’s my first…experience.”

That seemed to do the trick.

“It might just be your last if you continue acting like a brat.” He turned, trampling his way down to the kitchen.

Holy crap.

He was doing it.

Momma was right. Men are more basic than a little black dress.

I hurried to my room, slipping into a soft-pink lingerie nightgown with crisscross satin bows wrapped around my chest.

Thank you, Cara, for pimping my ride.

Romeo appeared a few minutes later, a whipped cream can in his hand. It was beyond comical to see the most stuck-up, serious man I’d ever come across holding something so…random.

His eyes raked down my body. “Cara bought you this?”

“Yes.” I forced out a smile. “Do you like it?”

“I’ll like it more when it’s in tatters on the floor.” He pushed the whipped cream into my hands. “On your knees. Now, Miss Townsend.”

“Can you…get undressed first?” I swallowed, feigning shyness. “I’ve never been completely naked in front of a man before.”

“Full nudity won’t be necessary for what I have in mind for you.”

A scream lodged in my throat.

Selfish bastard.

His ego needed its own zip code, a talk show, and a harem of agents.

“Just…just lie in my bed, all right?” I ground out.

“I’d rather do this standing up.”

“If you don’t indulge me at all, I’d rather not do it altogether,” I snapped. Then, to conceal my plan, I gentled my approach. “Everything we’ve done so far has been on your terms. This is important to me. I need to feel like I have a say, too.”

Romeo frowned, weighing my words, finally complying. “Take advantage of my goodwill, and I assure you—you’ll be reminded I lack it altogether.”

With wobbly knees, I waited until he flattened against my mattress before I mounted him, straddling his narrow waist.

He stared up at me, indifference making room for a glint of desire in his fog-colored eyes.

“It’s all so new and foreign to me.” I licked my lips, feeling myself blush, because this wasn’t actually a lie. I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with shaky fingers.

“I said I won’t undress.”

“I’ll get undressed, too. I promise.”

I got stuck on his custom RF cufflinks. He took over, removing them with an impatient snarl.

I hesitated. “I hope I won’t disappoint you.”

“While I’m not a fan of your personality, I’d pay good money to watch you sit and breathe,” he admitted, his voice roughening. “All you have to do is be alive for me to get a hard-on, so don’t worry your pretty head about underperforming.”

Sadly, that was the sweetest thing he’d ever said to me.

His shirt feathered to the floor, exposing his sculpted upper body. My fingertips tingled, begging to run over his work-of-art abs. All smooth tan skin, bulging six-pack, perfect pecs, and lean muscles.

The veins running down his biceps and forearms told the story of a man who kept himself in brilliant shape. I was also acutely aware of how easily he could crush me with his strength should he wish to.

I licked my lips, allowing my hands to roam his chest down to his belly button. “Lord,” I breathed out. “You’re beautiful.”

He caught my wrist between his fingers when my hand was halfway down the path to his pants.