Page 35 of Grave Games

All of that should have terrified me.

But in that moment I didn’t care.

Because I really, really loved being helpless in his hands.

The thumb he had on my clit pressed and circled, pressed and circled until I writhed with the rhythm. His fingers slid in and out of me, ever deepening his penetration and making me gasp out loud as the pleasure spiraled up to an airless height. It was so intimate—the most intimate thing I’d ever shared wholeheartedly with a man. With the knowledge that I wanted this, and that he’d made me straight up ask him to make me come, I gave myself over to the tide of sensation swelling up inside. It crested sharply, shockingly, in an orgasm that made me cry out, my back arching while my hips rolled in a frantic effort to prolong that sweet ecstasy.

As much as I tried to hold on to the euphoria he gave me, it ebbed away like water through fingers, leaving me drained but thoroughly satisfied. Not that he could say the same, and the moment that thought crossed my mind I reached out and cupped his cheek, delighting in the feel of the dark scruff beneath my palm.

“What about you?” I asked, shocked at how soft my voice sounded. Softness wasn’t something that came naturally to me anymore, or so I had thought.

A corner of his mouth tilted up. “You’ll owe me later tonight.”

“Tonight?” My brain hadn’t gone down the road any farther than the meeting Romeo had managed to forge between my brother and his president. “I thought you were, you know… done with me. You know, now that you’ve got my brother.”

His brows slammed down. “You comparing me to that fucker Marvel again?”

Maybe. “Um, I—”

“I get it. Everything’s crazy right now. I don’t blame you for being confused.” By degrees his scowl disappeared, and he leaned in to once again press his lips against my brow. He lingered there, as if kissing something precious, and my eyes closed against an odd wash of tears that wanted to flood my eyes. “Listen to me, okay? I’m not done with you. I guarantee that you and I are just getting started.”

I opened my eyes to look at him while the breath backed up in my lungs. “Why?” I asked, hoping he’d understand the question.

He seemed to, as his answer was immediate. “Because you kicked a gun—a gun your own heroic brother was holding—to protect me. Someone that determined to watch my back when shit’s getting real is a precious commodity in my world, so there’s no way I’m letting you go now.”

There was nothing I could say, because he was right. In that moment, all I’d cared about was protecting him. “My brother’s not my hero.”

“No, not anymore, and for that I’m sorry. But on the upside I can promise you one thing—the days of you being disappointed by the people in your life are over,” he added, resting his brow on mine, and for some reason his words seemed to vibrate through me to the very core of my soul. “I’m here now, baby. I’m here. From now on, you’re going to know nothing but sunshine and rainbows as far as the eye can see.”

Chapter Twelve

B There Soon

I would be lying if I said Romeo’s rainbows-and-sunshine comment hadn’t affected me. Even hours later at work, it would cross my mind at the weirdest moments—taking someone’s order, rolling utensils into napkins, manning the register at the to-go counter. I hadn’t just heard his words; I’dfeltthem deep down in a place I didn’t know I had. And there it sat, glowing like an ember that kept me warm throughout the day.

Though that could have just been the weather, I tried telling myself as I showed a boisterous family of four to a booth in the back. For the first time in over a week, the temperature finally climbed out of the freezing range and gifted the city with an afternoon full of springlike weather. The snow was melting fast, and everyone had ditched their heavy winter coats in favor of sweaters and hoodies. Perfect weather for going for a ride on the back of Romeo’s bike…

A sound of exasperation escaped me as I made my way to the front of the restaurant. There it was again, the ever-growing obsession my silly brain had with Romeo. I shook my head as I found one of my orders waiting for me under the heat lamps, and as I loaded up my arms I tried to figure out why the obsession was there in the first place. He was beyond gorgeous, of course, with a body any sculptor would have swooned over. Any female with a pulse—not to mention quite a few men—would have found him irresistible.

Then there was the way he treated me, like I was a delicate princess in need of all the pampering. The cynic in me insisted that the only reason Romeo had talked to me in the first place was so he could get a foot in the door with my brother, and that could very well be the case.

At least in the beginning.

But it didn’t explain that mind-blowing finger-banging session he’d selflessly given me, all the while promising me that tonight I’d have the chance to pay him back.

Warmth flushed through my body until I was certain I glowed, and the place between my legs grew damp with achy, sweet need. Tonight. Oh, how I would enjoy paying him back for all the pleasure he’d given me. And I’d make sure he enjoyed it, too.

That, of course, led to the biggest reason I was obsessed with Romeo, a man whose legal name I didn’t even know. That man was a straight-up freak in the sheets. Of course, I didn’t know that much about sex. The one and only other man who’d been between my legs had been Marvel, and that had hardly been consensual. That bastard had actually had the gall to complain about how I was making a mountain our of a molehill when I begged him to stop raping me, and if I were smart I’d just calm down, relax, and enjoy “the ride” he was giving me.

God.

That was the ultimate mind-fuck when it came to stranger rape versus rape from someone you knew. With stranger rape, it was a cut-and-dried case of horrifying violence. But if rape happened with someone you knew, most people somehow viewed it as not a big deal. Marvel certainly looked at it that way. I doubted he even thought of it as rape, despite me screamingnountil my throat was raw. I’d had a crush on him and consented to go out on a date, so in his mind I was sure he believed he’d had every right to do what he did.

But he hadn’t had any right to touch me.

None.

Marvel had been my only sexual experience—if it could even be called that—until Romeo, so clearly I didn’t have a lot to draw on. Maybe it was natural to obsess on someone who knew what to do with his hands and his cock. And oh, was he unselfish when it came to giving a woman pleasure—definitely another plus. I wasn’t crazy for obsessively thinking about a man like that, surely. Any woman would. It didn’t mean anything.

---