Page 63 of Protecting the Boundary
Without a word, I guide her into the house.But instead of heading toward the patio doors and out to the guesthouse like we normally do, I head for the stairs.
She pulls on my hand as we reach the bottom step.“Where are you going?”
“We’re not going to the guesthouse.We’re going upstairs to my room.” I tighten my grip on her hand. “Are you coming?”
FORTY
I nod because my words are completely gone, and he leads me up the stairs toward his bedroom.I never told him I came in here that one day. Maybe I should have, but after what I saw, I couldn’t.
My stomach dips at the thought of walking in and seeing her picture.
He wouldn’t do that to me after everything he just said tonight, right? No, he wouldn’t.Romel’s not that kind of guy.
I nibble my lip as we reach his door and he pushes it open, then pulls me inside.My eyes sweep around the room quickly, and immediately I notice two things.
One, the picture is no longer on his nightstand.
And two, his bed is different.Or at least the bedding.Where there was a navy comforter with floral print is now a dark gray comforter with black lines around the edges and matching pillows.
Taking a breath, I take a moment to see what else might be different.
I notice a couple of other changes from the last time I was in here.There was a dresser on the far side of the room with ajewelry box on top and a couple of glass bottles of perfume.The whole dresser is now gone.
I’m not sure when he found the time to do it because usually I’m around the house if he is.But it’s clear he’s taken the time to make the space more his own and not his and Sydney’s.
He squeezes my hand, his skin warm against mine, and cups my cheek with the other.He doesn’t speak, and neither do I, because at this point I don’t think either of us need words.
We need actions, we need touch, we need reassurance—both of us—that the other person is here standing in front of us. That this isn’t a dream.
My breathing grows shallow as he dips his head down and seals his lips over mine.
There’s nothing in the world like kissing Romel Watson.
His lips are thick but firm, and somehow with every kiss, he takes another piece of my heart, and this one is no different.
My hands move to the buttons on his shirt, slowly undoing each one.He doesn’t stop me, and he doesn’t rush me.He just kisses me in between every button I get undone, and watches my movements with a heated gaze.
When I get his shirt all the way unbuttoned, I run my hands along his firm pecs.
I love touching him like this, so freely, like he’s really mine.
His hands wrap around my waist, pulling me tighter against him before they move up to the zipper of my dress at my back. He pulls it down slowly, the sound of the zipper sliding down the only noise in the room apart from our heavy breaths.My heartbeat races the lower it goes, until he gets to the bottom. My dress slips down my torso to the floor at my feet.
His tongue darts out to sweep across his lips, as if the sight of me makes him absolutely ravenous.
My heart pounds as I stand there, exposed, in just my bra and panties. Romel’s gaze is intense, like a physical touch, as hetakes me in. His eyes linger on every curve, every line, as if he’s committing me to memory.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Meredith,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet wrapping around me. His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks, and he kisses me again. This time it’s deeper, hungrier. His tongue slides against mine, exploring, tasting. I can feel his need and it ignites my own.
I push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. My fingers trace the lines of his muscles, the ridges of his abs. He shudders under my touch, his breath hitching. I love that I can do this to him, that I can make this strong, reserved man tremble.
He reaches behind me, unclasping my bra with a flick of his fingers. It falls away, and his hands immediately cover my breasts, his large palms warm and slightly rough. He thumbs my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I gasp into his mouth, arching into his touch.
“Romel,” I whisper, his name a plea on my lips.
He smiles against my mouth. “I’ve got you,” he says, walking me backward toward the bed. The back of my knees hit the mattress, and I sit down, scooting back as he crawls over me. His body covers mine, his weight supported on his elbows. He looks into my eyes, his own dark with desire and something more, something deeper.
Romel’s hand slides down my side, over my hip, and hooks into the waistband of my panties. He pulls them down slowly, his knuckles brushing against my skin, sending goose bumps across my flesh. I lift my hips, helping him, and then I’m bare before him.
