Page 13 of Grave Games

But…

It kind of felt like me, too.

And all of it felt right.

His wildness was impossible to not respond to. My meager attempt to remain unresponsive lasted maybe half a second before I bounced up on my toes and answered the pressure of his mouth with my own. My hands speared into his hair, and its silken coolness was even better than I had imagined. In that moment, I didn't care that bad boys were bad for me, or that I had sworn off anything remotely hinting at bikers. Kissing Romeo felt so good, soright, that already my brain was busily sending me the rationale that since Romeo wasn't an actual patch-wearing biker, he was okay. Safe. I could be with him, date him, maybe even pluck up the courage to take him to my bed.

And wouldn’t you know, my bed was just down the hall.

That thought alone turned the heat up between my legs to the point where I thought my panties might catch fire.

Just like his conquering hands, there was nothing subtle about Romeo's kisses. My mouth had been open when his lips locked down on me, so without hesitation he invaded my mouth with the demanding thrust of his tongue. In all honesty I’d never been a fan of deep kisses; maybe it was a texture thing, or maybe I'd just been kissing the wrong guys who didn't know what they were doing.

Romeo definitely knew what he was doing.

He danced his tongue with mine. There was no other way to describe it. Circled and swayed and coaxed me to match him in every way. It was as if he had music inside of him that set the rhythm, and that rhythm was so sensual it was impossible for me to resist. I let myself go with it, dancing my tongue with his, all the while wondering if I'd ever be able to get enough. It had been so long since I'd let myself need a touch, a kiss, a caress. Aman. Romeo was everything I'd been missing, and I could have him. Right here, right now.

And this time, allowing myself to trust a man wouldn't destroy me or my family.

I gasped, an involuntary response to the icy dagger that plunged into my heart. Without thinking, I pushed him away, then immediately regretted it when losing the feel of his hard body against mine was like losing a part of myself.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted before he could say anything or maybe even yell at me. I wouldn’t blame him; after feeling that hard-on he’d been all too happy to share with me, I could only imagine the case of blue balls he had going on. “I’m so sorry, that wasn’t you, that was all me, I’m truly sorry—”

“Breathe, Shy. Just breathe. You’re safe, all right? You’re with me, so that means you’re always going to be safe. You got my word on that.” He reached out a hand, but I half-stepped away, then face-palmed when I realized my stupid body was still freaking out over how much it wanted him. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

“I’m so sorry,” I said again, my hand at my brow as I gave him a cringing look. On the upside, I now knew I could still lust after a man. So, yay for me. But there was no way I could tell him about that wonderful personal progress without lots of uncomfortable explanations to go along with it.Ugh. “Look, um… this isn’t going to work. I want you, more than I’ve wanted anyone in years, or maybe ever. But… I can’t. You deserve better. You deserve better than me. You should go and find someone better than me.”Like someone who wouldn’t freak out over the possibility of having sex.

“I know what I deserve.” His hand dropped and once again those sea-colored eyes narrowed, as if seeing me from several different angles and he was trying to figure out which angle he needed to play. Then a corner of his mouth curled, and suddenly all I could think about was how amazing those lips felt on mine. “I deserve the best, and that’s you.”

“Believe me, I’m not.”

“You’re not exactly a walk in the park, I’ll give you that. You’re no pushover, and you’re more suspicious than an entire cop convention. You don’t just fall over with your legs in the air because of who I am, or whatever. I’m going to have to chase you, and win you, and I fuckinglovethat. Because once I get you in my bed—and make no mistake, that’s totally where we’re headed—I’ll know I’ve earned every magnificent piece of you, Shy girl. And when that happens, I’ll know that all of you will bemine.”

For no reason I could explain, my throat snapped almost completely shut. “Romeo—”

“No point in telling me otherwise.” With a sudden change in spirits, he gave me a weirdly happy grin and stepped back toward the door. “I’ve made up my mind, so as far as I’m concerned it’s in the books. Now, grab your coat and let’s hit the mall. I’ve a mind to spoil you rotten, and gloves are only the beginning.”

Chapter Five

Sexteen

“Walmart would have been fine to snag up some cheap gloves.” I addressed this statement of fact to Romeo’s jacket-covered back as he dragged me by the hand out of a glass and chrome elevator to the second floor of one of Chicago’s riverfront shopping malls. “Even grocery stores carry things like that at the checkout counters this time of year. Five bucks and there you go—done deal.”

“Let me guess, that’s where you got your last pair of gloves?”

“I guess. I don’t remember, because gloves aren’t that big of a deal.”

“Says the lady who got frostbite because she didn’t have any.” Slowing down a fraction, Romeo pulled me up alongside him and brought my fingers—now laced with his—up for a close inspection. “These look better since I last saw them. How’re they doing? Back to normal?”

For no reason that I could fathom, my face grew warm. “Mm-hm. All better.”

“Good. I’m going to get you some gloves you’re never going to lose, because the last thing they are is disposable crap that you don’t give a damn about.”

“What on earth are you talking… Oh.” In growing horror I stared at the Harley-Davidson logo over the shop we were heading for. “Romeo, wait. Not there. I hate that shop. Like, seriously hate.”

“Frostbite can leave lingering areas of numbness. I read up on it last night.” He studied my fingers as if he hadn’t heard me, before lifting my hand to brush my fingers with his lips. “You didn’t lose any sensation, did you? Like, can you feel this?”

Oh, man. “Yes. Romeo—”

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