ROMAN (Lane Brothers Book 5) Page 2

  Weeks of waiting has taken its toll. I may be ready to just lie back and relax for more than a minute, but I need to find that rat bastard before he either gets his fool head shot or my kid pops out.

  That’s about the only softness I’ve allowed myself since my daddy got involved with that no-good bunch of murderous thieves.

  Lesson one, as Daddy always said, stay strong no matter how weak you are. I’m halfway to broken right now, but I haven’t shown it except for that little crying incident back at my childhood home. I have no intentions of breaking now.

  After I brain Roman and make spaghetti out of his nuts, that’s when I’ll cry and let all this pent-up pain and rage out.

  It takes about another hour of interrogation before old Judith lets me go upstairs to a bedroom that matches Roman’s tastes but smells nothing like him.

  I close the door with a sigh and lean back against the door, resisting the urge to smell a pillow because…really, who smells a dude’s pillow?

  “Goddammit!” I yell when I reach the bed without thinking and find my face buried in his pillow, my nose watering when all I smell is fabric softener and clean sheets.

  “Get yourself together, Mel. You are not the pillow-smelling type.”

  I fall to the bed, clutching the pillow to my chest, and stare into the darkened room. I’ve morphed into one of those pathetic women who start pining over a guy and end up standing outside his building, waiting for a glimpse of him while he swans around town with a piece of cheap tail.

  I hate those girls, and yet as I lay here and watch the light of the stars twinkling in a crystal-clear sky, I miss Roman so much that it feels like I have a limb missing or something.

  I met the man when I was so desperate to do something to help Daddy, and I knew that playing house with him was not a good idea.

  I played it anyway, and before I knew it we weren’t playing anymore. Roman is just so…irresistible I guess is the word. With those blue eyes that are always twinkling with mirth and that boyish grin, I soon found myself wanting to make him smile and relishing the times I could make him laugh with my off-color humor.

  It doesn’t hurt that the man is sexy as hell. I couldn’t resist him, not with the way he’d touch me every chance he got and drop little suggestive comments whenever the opportunity arose.

  I used to be the rebellious, smart-mouthed woman who tended bar and hung out with society’s “undesirables.” Roman changed me.

  “Hey, Mel, baby girl, you want garlic bread or salad with your pasta?”

  I almost jump right out of my skin when Roman’s hot breath skitters over my skin and I turn to see him standing behind me with a grin and a glass of wine that is sorely appreciated after a nine-hour shift over at The Drunken Traveler.

  I want the wine, but as his lips touch my nape and the smell of his minty breath hits my nose, all I really want after days of trying to ignore my libido is to kiss those full lips and finally know what a rich Boy Scout tastes like.

  We’ve lived together for just over a week and I’ve lost whole nights of sleep as lust raged through me. I even had the urge to seek out one of the shirts (as I call Daddy’s goons) for relief.

  I toss and turn most nights and I think I’ve reached my limit. So instead of turning away like I usually do, I look up into those bright blue eyes and do the one thing I swore never to do.

  I kiss Roman Lane for all I’m worth.

  The first touch is soft and I’ve hardly had the reins for a minute before he’s kissing me for real. His tongue swipes over my lips and demands entry, making the rest of my body burn with need.

  The sensation is startling and so welcome that I throw my arms around his neck and pull him closer just as he grabs my ass and squeezes, pulling me up and over his thigh for a ride that soon has me panting and gasping into his mouth.

  I’ve had sex before—lots of it as I chased that elusive orgasm that so many women speak of—but I have never experienced this before. Not the heat as he controls my hips and grinds my sensitive sex into the hard muscle of his thigh, and not the clenching sensations that overtake my empty sheath, letting me know that whatever is happening, it’s good and may lead to a climax that I’ve been desperate to taste.

  He keeps kissing me through it all and I’m almost lightheaded by the time he wrenches back and stands, gazing down at me. I see his mouth is swollen and wet from my own.

  His eyes are a darker blue than usual and the way he keeps licking his lips, as if searching for more of my taste, is such a turn-on.

  Roman waits till I meet his eyes before speaking words that have no place in my fantasies.

  “Mel, baby girl, are you sure you want this?”

  Want this? I don’t freaking want this. I need this. I’ve needed this since the first moment I entered high school and laid eyes on the strapping football captain who had more girls vying for his attention than a One Direction band member.

  Oh yeah, I’m that girl, the dorky chick who had stars in her eyes for the handsome hunk with more charm than sense. I’d basically had a crush on the guy since I got my braces off and the only way I survived it was by making friends with the “bad seeds” and wearing enough black to blend in at an Ozzy Osbourne concert.

  After he left for college, or whatever Mr. Rich and Popular did, I got to move on, finally, and do what I wanted. Namely going steady with Ricky Graham, the ultimate biker boy.

  I’ll just say that sex has never been good for me, no matter how hard I tried to get into it. Until now.

  I’ve never felt butterflies and clenching and that slide of moisture that lets me know that lube is a moot point. I’ve never felt desperate and needy and a hundred other sensations that all lead to that one place that I’ve come to loathe for its disinterest.

  I feel it all now, though, and all I want is to have him take me to that place of freedom where I finally get to feel like a whole woman.

  And he’s asking me if I want this.

  “Yes.”

  I could probably have been more original and verbose, but I’m still trying to dry hump the man’s leg and I feel so desperate between my legs that I’d be satisfied with a quickie if that’s all he wants.

  Right after I give my consent I find myself on the living room sofa while Roman lowers his massive body over mine, pushing himself into the cradle of my thighs with a groan I can’t help but echo.

  “Christ, I can feel your heat already,” he moans, pushing close enough that I feel the outline of his hardness through both our pants.

  I realize just how big he is as he starts a bumping rhythm that puts the head of his erection right over my clit for a grind that starts off slow and rapidly picks up speed until I start gasping and pushing closer.

  A tightening is happening deep inside me that’s sending echoes from the swollen flesh of my inner walls all the way to the nub that’s just as swollen and ecstatically primed for whatever is about to happen.

  I feel almost pained as he keeps rubbing at me, thrusting hard and adding a twist at the end of every nudge, before I explode.

  “Ohh,” I moan, riding the wave to the very end, my nerve endings and every inch of me coming down in a euphoric settling that leaves me boneless and so satisfied that all I want to do is curl up and just bask in the feeling.

  Roman is a true gentleman about my lack of participation when I flop down and blink up at him with a smile that would rival the grin on the Cheshire cat.

  “Good, baby girl?”

  I’m pretty sure that good is like the biggest understatement of the millennium.

  I just had my first orgasm at the age of twenty-three and all I can think is…wow. I want to do that again.

  “That was better than good and you know it, Lane,” I purr, pushing up to plant a wet kiss on the Adonis above me. “Want to go for a homer?”

  He chuckles before jumping up and grabbing my arm to pull me up beside him.

  It’s not a big surprise when I look down to see his hardness straining against th
e fabric of his pants, but I find myself biting my lips and casting him glances like some inexperienced girl who simply waits for direction.

  Pathetic.

  “Sorry, sugar. As much as I would love to get under all those clothes and have my dirty way with you, I made dinner and then I gotta skedaddle to work. My shift starts in about forty-five minutes.”

  “But…” I choke out, waving at his crotch in disbelief.

  He laughs again and I blush as he pulls me to the kitchen and shoves a plate my way before digging in himself.

  “This will hold. No way am I rushing our first time. I’ve waited long enough for this moment that I can’t let myself down at this point. Prepare yourself though, baby girl, because the minute I get home I’m going to be all over that delicious body of yours. Oh, and by the way—”

  I’m wrenched out of the memory with a jolt when I hear a hard knock at the door and what sounds like furious arguing before a loud thump and vicious curse reach my ears.

  I don’t want to open that door, not when I’m still lost in one of my favorite memories. Unfortunately, the door handle starts rattling and I hear Jared curse again. I sigh and force my exhausted carcass from the comfort of my man’s bed and trudge to the door.

  If I were in a better mood or mind-set right now, I would enjoy the sight of Jace and Jared tussling with each other before jumping apart like two naughty kids caught in the act.

  All I can manage is the lift of a brow and a scowl when they straighten and give me another one of those suspicious once-overs I’ve been getting all night.

  “Can we talk?” Jace asks and I almost implode when he doesn’t wait for an answer but pushes into the room and flops onto the sofa.

  Jared follows and I close the door with a slam that makes all three of us wince.

  The room, if I can even call it, includes an en-suite bathroom, a closet that’s bigger than my house, and a sitting area that looks pristine enough to eat off the floor. It takes me several steps before I reach the other seat and sit with a tired sigh.

  All I want to do is curl up and sleep, but I know I would not be able to even without the interruption. I haven’t been able to for weeks.

  The way I’m feeling right now, I probably won’t sleep again till I see my idiot lover, so I may as well entertain these two cute fools if that’s what they want.

  “What’s up?”

  “Er, Ma wanted us to make sure you were settled in and—”

  “I’m fine. Is that’s all?”

  Jared bites his lip and I see Jace take a deep breath before barreling ahead with a frown.

  “Since you’re in such a delicate condition—”

  “I’m pregnant, guys, not dying. I’ll be just fine once I get some sleep and come up with a way to get hold of your fool brother. Seriously, what’s up with him lately, huh? He hasn’t called in so long that I’m starting to wonder if he purposely lost my freaking number.”

  “Uh, that’s what we wanted to discuss with you, Mellie. See, we’re hoping that we can use the phone to call him.”

  “As if that isn’t what I tried to do already! I’m not stupid or brain dead, you know. I called a couple of times and it went straight to voice mail. He isn’t accepting my calls, either, so stop with the hangdog expressions and the pity party,” I growl, wanting nothing more than to lay hands on my sweet Roman and give him a dose of my wrath.

  My mood and tone must be hitting home, because I see them exchange another look before turning to me with hesitant smiles.

  “Um, did it go right to voice mail or did it ring once or twice?” Jared asks, looking hesitant.

  That look makes me want to smile because Daddy had looked at me the same way the day I walked into the house sporting five new piercings and enough white face makeup to make one of those medieval women look tan in comparison.

  I know I’m being difficult. It’s just that I’m not in any way used to people talking to me like I’m some sort of fragile flower or something.

  I work at a biker bar where the most sensitive guy can open a bottle with his teeth, for crying out loud, and my dad wasn’t exactly all that in touch with his emotions.

  I am what I am, I guess, and I kinda like me this way. Roman did, too…once upon a freaking time.

  “It rang once, okay? And then it went to voice mail. No, don’t look at me like that, I know what that means and y’all better believe your brother will be hearing about it when I get my hands on him.”

  In fact, I called like twenty times before I got scared that someone would notice and I’d somehow blow his cover. The truth is, I started suspecting by the tenth call that he was ignoring me.

  “Uh, well that’s good,” Jared starts and I feel all the pent-up frustration begin to boil like a volcano in the midst of eruption.

  “Good? You call having the father of my unborn child ignoring me good?”

  “Not good as in good that he’s…erm, look, if it rings that means it’s on and we can track it,” Jared rushes to explain.

  “And what does that mean? I thought he told you guys to back off till he gets what he needs from those idiots,” I say, recalling Roman’s frustration every time Miah or Jared would get too close and he’d be forced to pull away more.

  “Mellie, the truth of the matter is that Lynn has been released. We have eyes and ears on her, but we can’t guarantee his safety when she rejoins her people. Cleo has also woken up from her coma and we’ve only just recently survived an attack from her side. We need to get Roman out now, whether he’s done or not. If we don’t, he could die.”

  Seeing the fear and what I think might be desperation in Jared’s eyes is hard to look at, because I know that if this man is saying we’re done, then we’re done.

  It strikes fear into my heart and I know what I’m going to do to get to Roman even as Jared and Jace start talking about tracking the number.

  I need to get to him and fast, because I have met the real Cleo Conrad and I know exactly how evil that woman is.

  We don’t need proof anymore. We just need to live.

  Chapter Three

  Roman

  The sound of screaming reaches my ears. I block it out the best I can and focus on the task in front of me, praying as I do that with this last upload of information to Jim Dobson, we’ll all be free soon.

  Being a plant in an organization that goes against every personal belief I have and the freedom and safety of innocent Americans is starting to take its toll.

  I hardly sleep anymore, only when I’ve been drinking so much with Dyson Bruno that I pass out as soon as I hit my bed. It’s getting harder to keep the lines from blurring, something Miah warned me about when I went into this mission.

  I have to follow through to the end, no matter how much it kills me to have to watch my family suffer my loss and think of my Mel all alone in that cabin, afraid but fighting so hard to be tough. In reality, I think she’s the softest person I know. No matter how tough she is she’s still that soft, smiling woman I fell for and I will do anything to keep her that way.

  My baby girl is a one of a kind, ball-busting angel and I’ve loved her for so long that I sometimes think of our relationship now as karma’s sick sense of humor.

  I’ve known that Mel was my girl for almost three years now since she started tending bar at that hole in the wall and flirted with me one night after a happy hour that left my stomach curdled.

  I always planned to make a play for her after I cleaned up the department and went into private security with Miah. Hell, I’ve been carrying the ring on a chain around my neck for as long as I can remember.

  And yet I never got to charm the grumpy bartender and get her to agree to a dinner and moonlit walk or even an ice-cream cone while holding hands. What I got instead was her coming to me about the rot in the department and her father’s unwilling involvement.

  Every day that we had together was a blessing, but I may never see her smiling face again or kiss her sweet lips as I take her tight body, all be
cause two women decided that money and a bitter family feud are more important than decency and respecting human life.

  I desperately want to see her again, but any day now one of these ingrates could catch me sneaking information to Senator Dobson.

  I’m so close to getting the name of the last member of a secret council that exists in the organization. With that name, we’ll have them all and there’ll be no running from this or setting up shop in a different part of the country.

  If I manage to find the last member and get the intel to Jim, I could potentially get out of this alive and go home to Mel and my family.

  God, I miss her so much. It’s a constant pain in my chest, made even worse by the fact that she’s been calling me for days and I can’t answer the secret phone I smuggled in with me.

  I can’t risk it, not after I heard them all talking about the way they offed Dobson. The news upset me. I kinda liked the old guy after I got to know him and found out that if not for his desire to protect Mel after Cleo threatened to hurt her, he would have been an honest cop.

  I went to see him one last time and found my friend dead with his throat slit from ear to ear, a calling card that was my own personal favorite in the good old days of ridding the world of some of the worst animals ever to breathe.

  With that visit, I confirmed my own suspicions that someone is on to me. It also let me know that whoever is behind this knew that Miah and Jared would assume it was a message from me.

  I would never have done that to the chief, and part of me hopes my brothers would know that, despite the doubts they surely have about me now.

  I don’t blame them for doubting me. Heck, some days I have to shake myself and remind my struggling mind that I am not the traitor who turned on his own and is a key player in an organization that wants inequality and civil war.

  I have to tell myself constantly that I’m still me, the Roman who loves his family and would die to protect them—something I almost did when I told my brother’s girl Paulie about that bomb in her car.

  Most days the battle to remain me is so hard, I have to resort to thinking of Mel and the dreams I have of a life together.