Page 37 of Riches and Romance

Then he presses his lips to my ear. “I’d love to keep kissing you. But once I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. So unless you want me to take you right here, we need to go now.”

“Oh,” I gasp at the scrape of his teeth on the sensitive skin behind my ear.

He steps away but holds out his hand. “Are you ready?”

I slip my hand into his. “Absolutely.”

CHAPTER 13

HONESTY

Omar

It’s still raining hardwhen we park in front of the house and make a mad dash to the door.

“Oh my God, it’s so cold.” She shivers when we’re in the foyer. Water drips off her in a steady stream onto the tile floor. “Let’s take everything off down here so we don’t get the stairs wet.”

“No fucking way,” I retort. I kick my sneakers off and lift her by the knees, throwing her over my shoulder. “The rain stole my thunder once already tonight. I’ll be damned if I don’t get to strip you naked myself.”

Her scream turns into a laugh as I take the stairs two at a time until we’re on the third floor. I kick my bedroom door open and set her on her feet. She pushes wet hair out of her face and turns to look around the room. It’s the only room in my house that I’ve decorated.

“Mm-hmm.” She kicks off her shoes and saunters her sweet ass over to my bed to run her fingertips over the black paint thatcovers the wall behind it and crawls onto the mattress to get a closer look at the map of the Polynesian South Pacific, where the islands Fiji, Tonga, and American Samoa sit in a nearly perfect scalene triangle formation.

“Did you commission this?” she asks and turns eyes wide with awe and appreciation my way.

“Yes. I know it’s really specific to me, and whoever buys this place will probably cover it up. I move so much that honestly, nowhere has really felt like home. But the first time I went to Tonga—I was eight or nine—I felt it. And so I’ve had this painted on a wall in every house I’ve ever lived in to ground me, you know?”

“Yes and no. For me, people represent home more than any place ever could. And this is exactly what I imagined your bedroom would be—virile, lux, dark, vibrant.”

I pull my soaked T-shirt over my head. “What else did you imagine?”

She looks up from her perusal of the bed, and the smile on her face falters. “I imagined your body would be perfect, but I don’t think I expected to think it was beautiful.”

“It’s not. It’s definitely not what it used to be. I’ve got scars galore, a chronicle of all my injuries. Getting old is a bitch.”

“I hear the alternative is even worse,” she quips. “That’s what makes it beautiful. And strong. I can’t wait to touch you.”

“Touché.” I unbutton my jeans. “I want to know more about what you imagined. You’ve waited a long time. I want to make sure I give you a night you’ll always remember.”

“You already have.” She shivers.

“I’m sorry. Let me get you a towel.” I turn for the bathroom.

“I’m not cold, I’m excited. I don’t want a towel.”

“Whatdoyou want, Jules?”

“Thank you for asking.” She smiles, and I melt. “More than anything? I want it to be honest, and I want it to feel as good as everything else between us.”

That’s not what I expected her to say, but I think I understand what she means.

I give the voice command so that all the lights in the bedroom come on in the dimly lit room.

“Come here.” I crook my finger at her.

“Okay. Are we going to keep these lights on the whole time?” She walks toward me slowly.

I nod. “The whole time. No hiding. No shadows. Just us. Now lift your arms.”

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