Page 29 of Ruthless Reign

Julia took a deep breath but didn’t respond.

I waved two fingers at her, gesturing her over to me. “Come here.”

8

JULIA

Ishould have been offended that he summoned me like a dog, but when I stood and walked on unsteady legs over to him, it seemed to come from a part of me I couldn’t control. I dragged my fingers across the table, hoping the cool tablecloth would ground me. When I got to Roman, he scooted the chair out from the table and spread his legs, leaning against the back as he looked up at me with big brown eyes.

“Well?” I asked, ignoring the steady pounding of my heart.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to his thigh.

I normally didn’t like being ordered around, but his commanding voice made me feel strangely cared for, like all I had to do was what he told me and the world would be right. Which was ridiculous, of course. Only I could take care of me.

But still, I found myself stepping in between his legs and lowering onto the one farthest from the table. The smell of his soap and deodorant and natural male scent assaulted me, and I steeled myself against the trembling that echoed down my spine.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to his body so we connected from my shoulder down to my hips, the entire length of my arm touching his firm chest. I’dbeen raised around powerful men who simply took what they wanted from the women in their lives. Being the president of the SRMC meant Roman would hardly be different. I’d bet he walked into rooms and women fawned over him. I’d seen how the hang-arounds threw themselves at him when he entered the clubhouse.

“Why are you shaking?” he murmured, gripping my hips, digging his fingers into the tight fabric of my dress.

“Being close to you annoys me,” I lied, knowing it was really my nerves. I hadn’t been kissed by anyone since Hugo died, hadn’t even wanted it. And not that I would ever admit it to him, but the thought of pressing my lips to his sent heat to places that made my thighs clench.

He grinned and ran his tongue over his canine, drawing my focus. “I thought we were pretending.”

“I’m trying.” Even my voice shook.

“Try harder.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, glancing away, but he grabbed my chin and forced my face back to him. He pressed his forehead to mine, ghosting his fingertips down my neck, over my pulse point, to the bare skin on my chest. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to kiss the enemy, the one who had spilled so much Caputi blood, he might as well bathe in it.

I shouldn’t want this.

Those strong, callused fingers brushed over the mounds of my breasts at the top of my neckline, tracing along the ridge of the fabric like he meant to duck them under. Heart pounding, I arched into the touch despite myself, praying he would just do it and save me the embarrassment of wanting it any longer.

Roman tilted his head forward and tentatively brushed his mouth over mine, delicate and sweet at first, shooting ripples of sensation through my blood. I melted against him, twisting my fingers in my lap to keep from tangling them in his hair. His lipswere soft and warm and, when he opened them to lick over mine, I sighed into the contact. The noise turned into a moan when I reciprocated with my tongue, wrestling against his in a pathetic attempt for dominance. But I wanted to submit to him. I wanted him to win, to make me his, to show me how strong he was, how capable he was of protecting me and keeping me safe.

One hand snaked up my back to my neck, twisting in my hair to hold me in place. The fingers on my chest danced lower, rubbing over my dress to my nipples, which had pebbled from the kiss and the anticipation of what was to come.

A low masculine noise echoed from the back of his throat, and I sighed, my overheated skin suddenly too small to contain this rush of feeling inside my veins. I brought my hands to his jaw, cupping his face before moving to the back of his head, gripping, clawing, wanting more, desperate for all of him. His index finger twisted in the front of my dress and dragged it down, the rush of cool night air tightening the most sensitive parts of my breasts.

I wanted more. I wanted all of him. I wanted him to crack us both open to see if our insides matched.

Gasping into the kiss, I arched toward his touch when he grabbed one nipple between his fingers and pinched, tugging it in just the right way to send shocks of pure pleasure down my spine. In retaliation or perhaps in competition, I bit his bottom lip and pulled, and he groaned, leaning into it.

My pulse hammered against my ribs; he must have felt it, and my body whispered things I had no desire to investigate. I should have stopped this while I still had my wits, but he lifted me up and shifted me around so my knees were on either side of his hips, my feet dangling to the rungs of the chair. He grabbed my ass and yanked me closer, nudging my soft center up against the bulge in his sweatpants.

“There’s a good girl,” he murmured, dragging his hands up over my hips to continue tugging at my breasts.

I couldn’t stop myself, almost like I was compelled by some force greater than the two of us in this room. I rocked against him, lust combining with years of pent-up tension as I sank into this depravity. He was the enemy, and I was supposed to hate him.

I did hate him. But oh, it felt too good to stop it. The smell of him, pine and citrus andhim,amped up my arousal, and when his cock flicked against my clit, a moan barreled out of my chest unwillingly. I coasted my hands up over his arms, so hard and strong under his shirt, and balanced them on his shoulders while he worked me. Panting, he broke away from my lips to pepper kisses over my jaw and down my throat. I leaned my head to the side, granting him more access, and when he licked over a tender spot near my pulse, I trembled. Chills skated down my spine and the back of my legs, pooling in the most ravenous part of my anatomy. My belly fluttered, clenching deep inside of me.

“You smell like heaven,” he murmured. “Perhaps this Rose isn’t completely brainless, huh?” He punctuated his taunt with a bite near my shoulder, and I quaked again.

“You’re a monster,” I said, rocking harder against him. The contrast of his sweats with my lace panties was simultaneously too rough and just the right amount of agony, and I knew the wet spot on his lap would only grow larger the more I let this go on, but my mind had long since lost control of my body. I was acting on instinct now, and my nerves were too ignited to stop. “It’s pretend. It’s only pretend.”

I didn’t know if I was mumbling that for his sake or mine…perhaps both.

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