Page 40 of Unexpected Company
“You can what?” he asks, all mock innocence, as though he’s not trying to have a conversation while also milking my cock.
“Cook. I can cook,” I blurt out, my voice breathless.
Roman’s grip tightens. “What are you going to make?” I open my eyes and he’s still watching me, a smile playing on his lips.
“Bloody hell,” I mutter, leaning into him as my orgasm crests, my release spilling over his hand.
My breathing is heavy and I open my eyes to his gorgeous face, bathed in the glow from the side lamp. Behind him, the curtains are still open and it’s dark out so I can’t tell if the snow materialised or not, but there’s a chill in the air that makes me think it has.
Roman’s stomach grumbles and he laughs, which sets me off too, and I do the only thing I really want at this moment. I roll on top of him, pinning him to the bed and then I kiss him.
I kiss him with everything I have.
When we break apart, his lips are swollen and his smile is bigger than any I’ve seen on him before.
“Steak and chips or Bangers and Mash?” I ask.
“Can you make cheesy mash?”
I kiss his nose and then each of his flushed cheeks.
“Of course.”
“Have you never peeled potatoes before?” I close the oven door, having checked on the apple sausages I popped in earlier, and look over to where Roman is fighting with a potato peeler. Adeep gouge taken out of one and streaks of peel still sticking to others.
“No. I buy it frozen. Sometimes the powdered variety.” The look I give him must reveal my utter horror at his confession, because he chuckles and shakes his head.
“You’re wearing your handsome judgmental face,” Roman remarks, pointing the potato peeler at me.
“I’m not. I’m just surprised, is all. How do you get to twenty-three and not know how to peel potatoes? I guess I presumed it’s something everyone knew how to do.”
He shrugs, the smile falling from his face. He looks down at the haphazardly dissected starchy veg in front of him.
“A lifetime of eating ready meals or whatever my aunt left out for me. No one ever taught me. There was no onetoteach me.”
His words twist at my heart. How can no one have loved this man the way he deserves? With his cheeky sense of humour, his larger-than-life personality and his warm, comforting presence, Roman Otley is a man that I would be honoured to have at my side.
I shake away the silly thought. He’s a young, famous guy with the world at his feet. He doesn’t need some old, homebody author mooning over him. That’s not what any of this is, even if I wish it was.
“Well, you’re in luck because I happen to be a pro at it.”
He raises an eyebrow, a little sparkle back in his eyes.
“Is it something you can be a pro at?”
“Sure.” I move to stand behind him, pressing my chest to his back. With my hands on his wrists, I show him how to hold the peeler, slicing it smoothly around the vegetable.
“You’re a surprise,” he muses, his head turning to the side to look at me.
“In what way?”
“You’re quiet and reserved – but in a focused kind of way. But in the bedroom? Total badass.” He laughs, and it’s such a pretty sound I have no choice but to deliver a quick kiss to his lips and taste his happiness. “Not that I don’t think you’re a badass writer. You probably are, but it’s like that saying ‘author in the streets, sex God in the sheets.’” It’s my turn to laugh.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say playfully, taking a step back to leave him to the rest while I slice and dice carrots and courgettes.
“What I don’t get is why your ex would call you boring.”
I cut the stalk off the two deep green vegetables, then slice them horizontally. The scent of the sausages as the apple in them caramelises fills the small kitchen and I note how hungry I am, having not eaten since breakfast.
