“Some.”
“Isn’t that why you left? To try to find your Hemingway? Why are you only writing some?”
I shrugged. “Does it really matter? Clearly I’m destined for other things.” I lifted my hands up and pointed at my surroundings. “I get to be here. With you, instead. Lucky me.”
“You are lucky.”
I snorted. “So you say.” I smiled at him and licked my lips. “Is that because I get to marry you?”
“No, because you get to fuck me. You don’t know how lucky you are. But you will. Soon.” His drop-dead smile returned.
“You’re a cocky son of a bitch.”
“I just speak the truth. You always liked that about me.”
God, there were so many things I liked about him. But he was right. I always had appreciated his straightforward honesty. I may not like what he’d say, but I did know that Roman would never lie to me. And through his arrogance, I could always see a genuine charm woven beneath his bravado.
I took a deep breath, not sure I wanted to ask the question I knew I had to ask. “So what’s the plan? How exactly do you see this all going down?”
The drinks arrived, and I watched as Roman laid a hundred-dollar bill on the waitress’s tray. Extravagant bastard, but I’m sure the young woman appreciated it. I also bet she would die to be in my place—destined to become a princess to a wealthy, handsome as fuck, prince.
“You’ve been gone traveling the world, but I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how this goes,” he said as he handed me my drink. “It’s the classic story. You and I are reunited lovers, finally settling down to spend the rest of our lives together. A believable story. The media will find our childhood pictures, document stories that our families and friends tell of us growing up, paint the perfect fairytale romance, and all will be wrapped up in a perfect package. You and I will dress the part, show up at parties hand-in-hand, charity events, pose for planted paparazzi, and do the tango we both know so well.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know this tango. I can’t dance. It’s why I left.”
“I’ll teach you. Remind you of the steps.” Roman smirked as he brought his glass to his lips. “I’ll teach you a lot of things.”
“Ha! Who says I need teaching? Maybe I have a thing or two to teach you. And this tango you speak of sounds uptight and boring. I don’t want to do dinner parties and pose for pictures my entire life.”
“Who said that is all that would be expected of you?” Roman asked with a raise of an eyebrow. “There is so much you don’t know. So much more that will be expected. That I will expect.”
The way Roman stared at me caused my blood to sizzle. A small twinge of excitement beat against my core. He always had that power over me. One look. That was all it ever took. Warmth flooded my face, but even more between my legs. Clenching my thighs tighter, to try to contain the hunger building inside, I glanced away, attempting to see if I could find Silas amongst the patrons sitting at the bar. I wanted the old man to join us again. Anything to break up the sexual energy flowing between Roman and me. A few more sips of bourbon, one more seductive look from this sexy alpha, and it was very likely I would mount that prince’s lap and fuck him in front of all who wanted to watch. I needed old man Silas to babysit us. To babysit me.
“Cheri,” Roman said, drawing my attention back to his handsome face. “Do you want to know what the first thought was that went through my head when I saw you walk through those doors tonight?”
I smiled. “Do tell.” I was sure whatever compliment he gave was going to melt my panties. Roman always had a way with wooing the ladies with his sensual language.
“That I wanted to see your pussy.”
I swallowed hard, trying desperately not to show that his words were making my pussy, which he wanted to see, throb in need.
“I never took the opportunity to really see your pussy before. I plan to change that.”
I sat speechless. What could I say? What could I do? I didn’t even know if I liked what he said. My pussy liked his words… that much was for sure.
“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, stunning me with the way his face went serious and his tone even.
“Excuse me?” My heart skipped, and I wondered if I’d heard him correctly. Would he be so bold to ask something like that of me?
“Open your legs right there. Where you sit. Now.”
I glanced around our surroundings, as if the only reason I wouldn’t follow his command was because someone would see me.
“No one is up here right now. No one will see. Just me,” he assured.
“You’ve got to be kidding, I’m—”
“Now,” he interrupted. “I want to see your pussy. Spread your legs.”
What the fuck was wrong with me? His dominance. His command. Everything about the way Roman said the words, the way he sat, and the way his hungry eyes waited for me to comply turned me on like I had never been turned on before. I wanted to do what he asked. As crazy as it sounded, I wanted to spread my legs. I wanted him to see my pussy. I wanted him to see what I had to offer—remind him of what he once had.
“The waitress—”
“Isn’t here,” he countered. “Unless you would like her to be. Do you want to show her your pussy too?”
“Roman…” I said, barely louder than a squeak.
His look changed, and that was all it took. His eyes darkened. His face hardened. Something about the way he glared into my eyes told me he was serious, and I was to follow his sexual command. He expected submission.
And fuck me; I wanted to give it.
Very slowly, I eased my legs open. My black dress bunched high on my thighs as I revealed the fact that I wore no panties beneath the dress. Had I done so on purpose? Maybe. I liked not wearing panties. It was a dirty secret that only I knew, and I liked it. It was my secret… until now. Roman could clearly see I wore no panties as I spread my legs before him.
I could see his chest heave as he took a deep breath. His eyes drank in my sex, no doubt glistening with my desire. The cool air of the room made contact with my wet flesh, heightening my arousal even more.
“Like that?” I teased. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Wider,” he commanded, never breaking his glare from my needy sex.
I did as he asked, spreading my legs as wide as the tight fabric of my dress would allow.
“Do you like what you see?” My voice came out low and husky. I couldn’t believe I was engaging in such a wanton act, but it thrilled me, heightened all my senses, and made me want to do more. I wanted to be a very bad, bad girl. Roman brought a lustful harlot out from my etiquette-trained good girl self.
“Stand up,” he said as he stood and placed his glass on the table near us.
I closed my legs, feeling as if I were in a daze induced by his masculinity. Who the fuck was this man? And what a man he was. Roman took my glass and sat it next to his as he reached for my hand, pulling me to standing. I brushed down the material of my dress so it covered all my private parts again, though a part of me was disappointed that my voyeuristic act had come to an end.
“Come with me,” he said as he led me toward a hallway in the far corner of the upper level. I hadn’t noticed it before, but with all the shadows of the club and the nooks and crannies, I was pretty sure I had only touched the surface. I assumed there was so much more to Spiked Roses.