Page 21 of Roark
“And I’m not going to try to seduce you.”
He turned to her. “That thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”
She stared back at him. “Really? It should have. Because just as you’ve noticed I’m attractive, I’ve noticed the same about you, and I’m not in the habit of denying myself any type of pleasure.”
Did his dick just jump?
Roark swallowed, because his throat was instantly dry.
In that moment it dawned on him how good that nightgown looked on her. How had Geoff known her exact size? Because it fit her perfectly, right down to the way the silky material cupped her very ample breasts. His one hand clenched the water bottle, while the other pressed into his thigh. “I just wanted to assure you that nothing untoward was going to happen to you while you were here. There’s something going on that we both need to get to the bottom of; mixing that with anything else would be a mistake.” Some of those words sounded like bullshit, but he’d had to say them.
“We’re adults. We can acknowledge there’s attraction between us and decide whether or not to act on it. I had a bad dream, we’re sitting in your bedroom…it makes sense that lines are a little blurred right now. But don’t worry, I’m good. I’m not going to accuse you of anything and as I just stated, I’m not going to try anything.” She stood. “Thanks for the water.”
Roark stood too.
“I’m going to head back to my room now.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” A part of him didn’t want her to go, while a bigger part of him wanted her to get very far away.
She’d already started walking toward the door. It took every ounce of strength in him not to linger on the sight of her generous ass swaying in the blue satin. His dick had definitely jumped and begged for release at that sight, and his frown increased. “I’m going to be fine. As I told you, I’ve had nightmares before.”
They were just about at the door, and Roark was still reciting the alphabet backward to keep from focusing on how good that nightgown really did look on her, when she glanced over her shoulder at him.
“You’re a fixer.”
“Huh? What?” It was his turn to blink in confusion, and he felt like a total idiot.
“You like to fix things for people. So right now, you’re feeling out of sorts because you couldn’t fix the nightmare for me. It’s cool, really. I’ve forgotten it already, and now I’m ready to crash.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she turned and kept walking through the open door.
“I trust you know how to handle your nightmares, Tamika. But I’ll be right here in my room if you need me.” He’d said her name. It rolled off his tongue and sounded in his ears.
“Thanks, Roark. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me tonight.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Goodnight, again. For real this time.” She chuckled, and he wanted to reach out and touch the cheekbone that rose with the action.
He wanted to slide his finger along the line of her jaw, to touch her full bottom lip. Fuck! He was hard and he wanted her in his bed. “Goodnight, Tamika. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Those words were for her and for him. He was going to talk to this woman about how his mother knew her father and how both of them dying in a fire couldn’t be a coincidence.
He wasnotgoing to have sex with this woman.
Chapter 8
The next morning, Roark lay in the bed with a smile on his face and a hand on his dick. He lifted his hips slightly off the mattress, meeting the jerking motion he’d created to keep the tendrils of pleasure sifting through his body. That enticing blue nightgown had been pushed above her hips, and he’d eased between the softest thighs to sink deep inside her pussy. She’d welcomed him with open arms, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist. He pumped deep inside her, sinking in and pulling out, passion surging through him with every plunge.
An incessant beeping sound interrupted the dream, and for the second time he was jerked awake, eyes opening wide, heart hammering in his chest as he struggled to separate the dream from reality. The first sign he was no longer dreaming was the wetness on his fingers. With a frown and his free hand, he pushed the sheets back to see the crazy dream of being inside Tamika had almost led to a very real orgasm. Pre-cum still oozed from his tip as he grumbled and hurriedly yanked his hand from his dick.
The alarm on his cell phone he’d set before he was awakened earlier by Tamika’s scream was still blaring, and he used his dry hand to stop the annoying sound. It was straight to the shower from there, where it took a good ten minutes of standing under a cool spray of water for his erection to subside. The embarrassment of being a forty-year-old man who’d almost had a complete wet dream would take a little longer to rinse away. By the time he was finished and had slipped on another pair of jeans and button-front shirt, Roark had managed to clear his mind of the odd sexual fantasy.
How long had it been since he’d thought of a woman in that way? Obviously too long, he told himself as he left the room and walked down the hallway. How many times had Ridge insisted sex was the key to survival for all men? And how many times had Roark frowned at his brother’s obsession with the physical connection over a deeper emotional one? Not that emotion had worked out well for Roark, either. Katrina and their very real divorce papers was proof of that.
And why the hell was he thinking of any of this when there were definitely more pressing matters at hand? For example, the open door to the room where Tamika was supposed to be sleeping.
Roark stepped through that open door, moving further into the room. He didn’t call out to her and kept his focus on the sitting area of the room, just in case she was still in the bed. Then what was he going to do? Walk over and wake her up with a kiss, or turn and leave, because what kind of creepy dude was he to be in her sleeping room early in the morning without her permission?
She wasn’t in the bed. He hadn’t been able to resist looking in that direction, and what he saw was a neatly made bed, that infamous blue nightgown tossed across it. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the memory of his dream from his mind. “I’m not having sex with that woman.”
