He broke the kiss but his lips lingered over hers. “What is it, sweetheart? Does this help?” he asked, easing his finger deep inside her.
Her body trembled in reaction. “I know what would help more.”
So did Roman. This restraint wasn’t easy. He was enjoying every minute, but if he didn’t come inside her, he was going to damn well explode. “Tell me what you want.” He needed to hear it from those well-kissed lips.
“Why don’t I show you instead?” Her cheeks were flushed pink with desire, her eyes glazed with need as she reached out and held his hard length in her hand.
He didn’t need to answer, just follow her lead—and he did, easing himself over her as she spread her legs and placed the head of his penis into the damp, moist vee of her thighs. At that moment, foreplay was over.
He thrust inside her, hard and fast. She’d said it had been a while and when her smooth muscles contracted around him, he realized how long she’d actually meant. She was tight and wet, capturing him in silken heat. He broke into a sweat, not just because he was aroused and so damn close to coming he thought he would burst, because he felt like he was exactly where he belonged.
He felt like he’d come home.
Roman opened his eyes and met her startled gaze. It wasn’t pain or discomfort he saw there, but awareness. She obviously felt it too.
He began a rapid thrusting meant to distract him, to separate himself from the reality of his feelings. Sex had always been a distant form of quick and easy release in the past. Not now.
Not with Charlotte. Not when her rhythm complemented his rhythm, her breaths matched his, and her body molded perfectly around him. And when he climaxed, taking her with him, Roman somehow knew—things would never be the same again.
* * *
Roman walked out of the bathroom and toward Charlotte, completely nude and not the least bit embarrassed. She supposed there wasn’t much left to hide between them and she didn’t mind looking at him. Not a bit.
She wasn’t as ready to be that free herself. She crossed her legs and pulled the sheets up around her. “I’m starving.”
Roman’s eyes glittered with deliberate mischief. “I can satisfy that hunger of yours.”
She grinned. “You already did. Twice. Now it’s my stomach that needs filling.” She patted the sheet above her belly. They’d worked up a healthy appetite and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
She was ashamed to look too deeply into her heart, because she wasn’t the same woman who’d walked into this inn. She found it too easy to be with this charming man who promised honesty as easily as he guaranteed he’d be walking out the door.
He reached over and grabbed the green leather-bound folder from the nightstand and looked through the selection of late-night snacks.
“What are my choices?” she asked.
“Would you believe not much? There’s a cookie platter with assorted teas, or a vegetable platter with honey mustard or blue cheese dip, and a choice of colas. There’s also fresh seasonal fruit. Can’t imagine what that would be at this time of year, but one thing’s clear. We’re eating cold and nothing homemade.” He laughed. “So am I ordering you the vegetables?”
She raised an eyebrow, surprised he’d chosen wrong. “Guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Now, there’s a challenge. So you want the fruit?”
She crinkled her nose. “Roman Chandler, what kind of women do you hang out with?” She shook her head. “Forget I even asked.”
He settled himself next to her. “Sorry, can’t do that.” He lifted her hand and began a slow, steady massaging of her palm. His touch was as seductive as his eyes were mesmerizing and blue. “The Chandler reputation’s way overrated.”
“Oh, really? You brothers don’t collect women?”
“I’m not saying they don’t line up for me.” His impish grin told her he was joking. “But I definitely turn them away. I’m getting too old for the revolving door.”
But despite the teasing upturn of his lips, she tossed a pillow at him anyway. “Tell me something. I don’t really remember your father. Did he have that same ‘women love him’ reputation? Is that what you three are living up to?”
He shook his head. “The only woman my father was interested in was my mother and vice versa.”
“If only my dad reciprocated my mother’s feelings, like yours did.”
He tipped his head back in thought. “You know, our mothers aren’t really that different.”
Charlotte couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Nope. Step out of your single-minded resentment of your father and take a look at something. He took off and your mother’s been waiting around ever since, yes?”
“Yes,” she said, completely unsure of where he was headed.
“And my father died and my mother never got involved with another man again. Until this week, but that’s another story.” That darn perceptive gaze met hers. “Nothing’s really different,” he said. “They both put their lives on hold.”
“I guess you’ve got a point.” She blinked, surprised to realize they had something that fundamental in common.
But nothing had changed for them—even if she had become more emotionally attached. Dammit. Their long-range goals were still disparate and far apart, something she’d best keep in mind during their time together, she warned herself.
Roman’s own words reverberated in his head. His mother had put her life on hold for what seemed like forever. Because she’d been so much a part of his father’s life, she’d been lost without him. Until he’d spoken his conclusion aloud, he’d never realized that his mother hadn’t moved forward.
“But at least Raina lived some version of happily ever after.” Charlotte’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Her words gave him pause. Was that fairy-tale ending women wanted worth anything if the rest of their lives were spent in unhappy limbo? In his mother’s case, short-term happiness at the expense of long-term fulfillment?
