Page 68 of By the Letter

I would not be another angry man storming through her life.

Chapter Twenty-three

Roman

Mary tried to murdermy toes when I walked into Shira’s house after the luncheon, but now that I’d been here for an hour, she’d settled herself in my lap, allowing me to pet her. Her purring was the only thing keeping me calm as I waited for Shira to come home.

I’d texted her I was here so when she walked in, she wasn’t terrified to find me in her living room. I’d done her enough harm already.

“Hi.” She dropped her keys and purse on her entry table and kicked off her shoes. There was nothing different about her. No change. It was a wonder to me. Then again, she’d been carrying the heaviness of her past all her life. I was the one who’d changed. “Mary looks comfy and not like she hates you at all.”

At the sound of Shira’s voice, Mary lifted her head, mewed at her, then settled back into her nap. Shira sat beside us, stroking the top of her cat’s head.

“We’re beginning to understand each other,” I replied tightly. I was trying for normal, easy, but it wasn’t happening. The barbed knot in my gut was clawing at me, too fucking violent to ignore.

Her lips curved. “You mean you’re beginning to like her?”

“Maybe.”

Eyes flicking to mine, she gave me a tired smile. “I’m going to change and wash my face. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.”

She was gone a minute or two when I decided I was done waiting. Mary didn’t like me very much when she lost her napping spot on my lap, but that was nothing new for us. She swished her tail at me before settling in the corner of the couch, a strip of late afternoon sun shining on her.

I expected Shira to have gotten dressed in the loungewear she always wore at home by the time I made it upstairs, but when I entered her room, she padded out of her walk-in closet wearing only a snow-white bra and matching panties.

I’d come here after the luncheon to talk. To offer her another apology for how I’d treated her. To hug her if she let me. To ask questions I wasn’t sure she’d answer.

Once I laid eyes on her like that, those intentions fled.

“Shira,” I bit out harshly, falling onto the end of the bed. “Come here.”

Her lips parted as she inhaled sharply. Her head lowered, but she came, stopping between my spread knees. I dropped my forehead to her chest and curled my arms around her, groaning against her skin. She was so warm, whole, unharmed.

“Shira, Goldie…Jesus.” I rolled my forehead on her soft breasts, holding her tighter, mouthing her through her bra,breathing in her scent, trying to settle the vicious torment churning in my gut.

Her fingers threaded through my hair, stroking tentatively. It only set me more on edge. Her bra became wet the more my mouth roamed and sucked. I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was I needed her to be close, to make her feel good and cared for.

“Rome,” she whispered. “What—”

“Let me make you come.” I slid my hands down her back to cup her ass. “I need to make you come, Shira.”

“I—you need it?”

“God, baby, you don’t understand how badly I need it.” Gathering the waistband of her panties in my fists, I looked up at her. “I’m going to take these off unless you stop me.”

Her fingers tightened in my hair, and her breath hitched, but she didn’t object or try to take my hands away. I gave her a few seconds—it was all I had in me—then I tugged her panties down to her knees and had her bare ass in my hands and my mouth all over her.

“Shira,” I gritted out as I fell to my knees, kissing down her body. Every place my lips touched, I swiped my hand over, checking her for marks or scars, ensuring she wasn’t injured. The need didn’t make sense, but it was visceral.

Taking her by the hips, I spun her around, dropping her to sit on the end of the bed. My palm cupping her nape, I spread her legs, sliding my other hand up her inner thigh to find her core already wet and silky. I remembered this. One look at her that night, and I’d needed my mouth on her. It was different now. She wasn’t just a sensual body; she was someone I now cared for. Erotic to amorous, but my desire was the same, fiery in my gut, molten in my veins.

The pads of my fingers met her clit, and her breathing wavered, soft and sighing. I rubbed her and held her, kissing herneck and chest, sucking her puckered nipples through her damp bra. Her mouth was near my ear, and the sounds of her pleasure were velvet over the barbs lodged in my gut.

“Shira,” I whispered. “Let me hear you.”

Her fingers clenched my hair, but she remained quiet as ever, only panting faster and faster.

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