Page 73 of Deadly Secrets
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Brooke was so sore she could barely lift the spatula to flip the pancakes in the skillet.
Thankfully, Roman had let her sleep in while he attacked the treadmill and punching bag in his workout room.
It wasn’t just her arms that were sore. Her thighs, her hips, the sweet spot between her legs…everything had endured quite the workout the previous day, and even though she’d thought she was in pretty good shape, her body disagreed.
But while her body ached, her heart was lighter than it had been in a long time. The connection she felt with Roman was deeper than any she’d ever had, and not just the physical aspects of it. She still had to pinch herself, since—yes, she’d counted—she’d experienced a dozen orgasms overnight, and had woken up in Roman’s bed with his arms around her. He’d snuggled her close, told her to sleep as long as she wanted, and had brought a cup of that wickedly good coffee to her before he’d disappeared into his gym.
The female side of her wanted to follow after him, watch his amazing body flex, move, and make her drool. That same physical side, though, made her moan when she’d thrown back the covers and risen slowly from the bed. Even yawning hurt.
Roman was in better shape than his boxing days, and how was that possible? The man had the stamina and tenacity of a lion. He knew what he wanted and went after it. Again and again and again.
Yippee,her female parts cheered.
Because right now?Shewas what he wanted.
At least for the time being.
The thought sobered her. While she loved her career, a part of her wished she could stay right here, with Roman, hunting down a mass serial killer and ripping up the sheets with her new boss.
So unprofessional.
But that thought kept her grinning during a quick shower. She’d thrown on the clothes she’d purchased the day before, along with a coat of mascara. Keeping thoughts about serious relationships and the fact she could never have one with such a perfect guy as Roman, she’d put her hair up in a bun and started breakfast.
I’m not the type to fall in love anyway.
Like a positive affirmation, she kept mentally repeating it. Maybe if she convinced herself she didn’t want a relationship with Roman, it wouldn’t hurt so much when he got tired of her and moved on.
A stack of pancakes was waiting on the counter when Roman came striding in, fresh from his shower. “Damn, woman, I could smell those all the way upstairs.”
Brooke plopped down a bottle of real maple syrup and his favorite jelly on the counter. “You didn’t have blueberries, but I found some chocolate chips, so I threw those into the batter.”
Roman kissed her hard, bending her backward before sitting down to dig in.
Droplets of water still hung in his hair and he’d left his shirt off, his broad shoulders and ripped muscles moving fluidly beneath his tattooed skin as he buttered his pancakes and drowned them in syrup. Brooke licked her lips.
As if he felt her blatant stare, he glanced her way. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Oh, she planned to eat all right.
Sliding around to his back, she wrapped her arms around his chest and kissed the back of his neck. “If I weren’t so sore, I’d make you work for those pancakes.”
He chuckled. “The dozen orgasms I gave you last night weren’t a down payment?”
She kissed her way down his vertebrae. “My specialty pancakes don’t come cheap.”
Another chuckle and he grabbed her hands, spinning around on the stool so he could grab her hips.
She laughed in surprise and let him draw her onto his lap, his hands massaging her butt cheeks. “I know plenty of ways to handle sore muscles.”
“Is that so?”
He kissed her deeply, drawing her close so her breasts pressed against his chest. “I’m the best massage therapist around. I’ll have you feeling good in no time.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder for a moment. “That sounds wonderful.”
His stomach growled.
