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He chuckles at me and then sobers. "What they did to you was fucked up."
"Yeah, it was. I'm thankful for what happened, though." I hesitate a moment when a little growl rumbles in his throat. "Maybe that's not the right word. I just mean that had I not walked in on them, I wouldn't have gone to Santa Cruz. None of this would have happened."
They should never have done what they did, and Lizette shouldn't have fired me when she was the one fucking my boyfriend, but what they did forced me to admit what I really wanted. I got Roman out of the entire messed-up situation. How can I regret that?
"Don't be so sure about that," Roman mutters, wrapping one hand around the back of my neck to pull me closer. His lips land against my forehead. "We would have happened sooner or later."
I think he's probably right about that, so I don't argue with him.
"How was your day?" I ask instead.
He grunts and pulls back a little, tucking my head against his chest again. "Same shit, different day. We'll talk about that later. Why were you upset when you got home? Was it your ex-boss?"
"I wasn't upset."
"Mila."
"Roman." I mimic his stern tone. Just thinking about seeing Tahani makes my stomach clench and nausea claw up my throat. I'm not ready to talk about it yet. Not when I still haven't decided what I should do.
"You're so fucking stubborn," he says with a chuckle. His body shakes against mine before he composes himself again. "Seriously, baby. I know something's wrong. I could see it in your eyes the minute I looked at you."
"You're obsessed with my eyes," I mutter.
He tilts my face up with his hands until my gaze locks on his. "Sweetheart, I'm obsessed with every inch of that sexy little body." He shoots me another smirk, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip. "Talk to me."
I ignore his demand and suck his thumb into my mouth before biting down.
"Mila," he growls like I'm pissing him off, but his eyes darken as lust rolls through them.
"You talk. I'm busy," I mumble, pushing myself to my knees beside him. My palms land against his chest as I crawl closer. I stop long enough to yank my skirt up so I can climb into his lap.
He growls again when I straddle him, his hands going to my hips. He's already hard, the large bulge in his jeans pressing against my pussy through my panties. I hold myself steady with my hands on his shoulders and lean forward. My teeth rake against his sharp jawline, and then I lick my way up his throat to his ear.
"I thought you wanted me coming on your face when I got home," I whisper and then bite him just hard enough to make it hurt, knowing that little lick of pain makes him crazy.
"Fuck," he groans, bucking upward beneath me. His hands tighten around my hips.
"Make me come, Mr. Gregory," I whisper, grinding against him. "Please. I need you."
He moves so fast that it startles me. A surprised yelp escapes my lips, and then I'm on my back beneath him while he hovers over me. His hazel eyes are on fire as he rocks his hips against me, his cock bumping against my clit.
I moan loudly and push upward, forcing his cock to nudge against my clit a little harder.
"So fucking stubborn," he mutters, but he's done trying to deny me.
I knew he would be the second I called him Mr. Gregory. Every time I say it, he gets so riled up.
He grabs the collar of my shirt and yanks it down, exposing my breasts. His eyes darken a little further, and he dips his head, pulling one nipple into his mouth.
"Roman," I groan when he bites me.
He rocks his hips against mine as he moves from breast to breast, sucking and licking. It feels like my nipples are directly connected to my clit. Every time he bites me, electric shocks strike like lightning between my legs. The sensation is so strong that I cry out his name, grasping at his shoulders.
"Fuck, I love when you say my name like that. Do it again," he mumbles, pulling one of my legs around his hip.
His erection hits me just right as he grinds against me. As soon as he bites my nipple again, pulling it between his teeth, I cry out, partly in pleasure, partly in surprise, as an intense orgasm shatters me apart out of nowhere. My back arches off the couch, my mouth falling open.
"Jesus Christ," he mutters, leaning up to rip his shirt off over his head.
