Page 51 of Say It Slowly

Is he being serious right now?

Any shame I had about snooping around in his house vanishes completely, because, what, am I supposed to just magically know this room is off-limits? I glare at him. “Yeah, well, most people know not to steal other people’s shit and force them to live with them. But, hey, we’re all learning, right?”

His eyes narrow. “It’s safer for you here.”

Bree's words in that letter instantly come rushing back to me.I’ve discovered something about the Sacred Sons, and it’s bad.

Is Roman a spider, luring me into his web with promises of safety?

I clear my throat. “What do you mean by that?”

He takes a step toward me. “Have you already forgotten about Tyler? Plus, the Debs aren’t happy about our relationship…”

I hold up a hand. “Okay, first, this isn’t a relationship. Second, whose fault isthat? You’ve basically forced me into thisthingwith you.”

He continues advancing, until he’s less than an arm’s length away from me. “I’ve forced you into this?” His gaze rakes over my face, lingering on my lips, and I swallow. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

My heart rate kicks up several notches when he presses me against the wall, one hand above my head. He knows I don’t like being trapped, and maybe that’s why he leaves one arm at his side, instead of completely enclosing the space around me. I don’t know, but it’s still enough to make me start to panic.

“Breathe.” He dips his head, his warm breath brushing across my lips. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His mouth lifts into a mischievous half-smile. “Not until you beg for it, anyway.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I say, my voice shaking. I resist the urge to push him away from me, because I want to prove to him I’m not scared. Or maybe I’m trying to prove it to myself.

Sit with the discomfort.

Despite everything, I don’t think Roman would physically harm me, not like my attacker did. But Roman already has something my attacker never did; an emotional hold on me.

Roman could do some serious damage to my psyche if he wanted to, and that actually scares me more than a knife to the throat. Physical wounds heal. It’s the psychological wounds that rip you apart.

“I don’t know what you've done to me, Lux,” his voice is low, hoarse, like he’s trying to hold himself back and barely succeeding. “But all I think about is you. When I’m in class,when I’m with my guys, when I’m stroking my cock in the shower…”

Oh, damn.Images of him in the shower, wet, his hand wrapped around his large cock, invade my mind.

I blink, shaking my head. I should shove Roman away, and stop this right now. He’s dangerous. Bree was trying to warn me about him. Andeven knowing that, I still fall so easily into his trap.

But…if I pull away now, that may make him suspicious, and I need to play this game. For Bree. The closer I get to Roman and his crew, the more answers I can get. I just have to be careful.

He dips his head lower, his lips hovering above mine, so close, I can practically taste them. My eyes flutter closed as he continues, “ I think about your luscious-fucking-body. All your curves, the weight of your tits in my hands. The way you moan when I have my cock buried deep inside you…”

I bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning now. My center is flooded with heat, and my clit is starting to tingle, coming alive with the images he’s conjuring in my head.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, still impossibly close, but not actually touching me.

I don’t immediately comply, because I’m trying to gather myself, and draw on every ounce of resistance I have, which isn’t much, actually. When it comes to Roman, I’ve never really had much power to resist. I never admit that to him, though, of course.

“Unzip your jeans,” he says, his tone hard and urgent.

With my eyes still closed, I do as he tells me, unbuttoning, then unzipping my jeans, so they’re gaping open.

“Now, touch yourself.” Again, I don’t immediately comply, and that seems to make him angry. “Lux, do it. Or we’ll stop this right now, and I’ll walk away.”

Yes, walk away, my mind screams. But my body is on a completely different level, and acting on its own accord. My hand slips past the waistband of my panties, and the curls shielding my center. The second my finger brushes against my swollen clit, I jolt, my back slamming against the wall behind me.

He chuckles, and the sound reverberates through me. Even though we’re not touching, I can feel him surrounding me, his scent, his warmth, his strength…

“Now,” he breathes, “Slide two fingers into your pussy for me.”

I do as instructed, sucking in a breath as my own two fingers fill my channel. “Good girl,” he soothes. “Now, imagine it’s me inside you. Find a rhythm.”

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