ie

“Fuck,” he mumbles, reaching down and grabbing my ass.

Then I start grinding against him, slow at first, and then faster as we both feel the intensity building. God. It feels incredible. I feel another orgasm building inside me, and I clutch his arms, dropping my head into the nook of his shoulder and keeping the rhythm. It feels so good. So fucking good.

I gasp as another orgasm rips through me, this one stronger than the last. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Roman squeezes my ass and jerks his hips upwards, and the soft breath he releases near my ear makes me shiver and clench around him. Our release almost perfectly timed. And equally as amazing.

“That was awesome,” I whisper, turning and pressing my lips against his neck.

“Mmmmmhmmmm,” he murmurs, huskily.

I go to climb off his lap, but his arm goes around my waist, and he stops me, pulling me closer. Heart expanding, I wrap my arms around his neck, and he squeezes me, hugging me so hard my breath is knocked out of me for a second. We just sit there like that, hanging onto each other. And I realise that we both need it. For whatever reason, we need it.

So I just let him hang onto me.

And I hang onto him.

And we shove our broken pieces back together, even if they don’t go back together quite the same, we still try.

And for a while, it feels incredible.

CHAPTER 13

“That is not how you play air guitar!” I laugh, throwing a chip across the table at Roman, who is doing a poor impersonation of an air guitar.

“Yes, Spoosie, it is.”

“No, Spooser, it isn’t. You suck. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

He keeps playing his terrible air guitar and grins at me, cheeky, gorgeous. “We can’t be friends if you don’t play with me.” He wiggles his brows.

“No.”

“Play it, you know you want to, the music is calling to you.”

“Nope.”

He keeps playing, wiggling from side to side, and I can’t help it, I lift my arms and start playing air guitar with him. We both laugh, doing, what is, without a doubt, the worst air guitar playing in the entire world.

“We’re terrible.” I laugh, putting my arms down.

“No, you’re terrible, and you’re making me look bad.”

I snort and flip him the bird.

“Want to hear a funny story?” I say, wiggling my brows as I move into his kitchen and stir the food he’s cooking for us.

“You’ve always got a funny story, and I’m always wanting to hear it,” he says, slapping my hand away from his cooking.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I tease.

“Shut it, tell me your story before I hurt you.”

I grin at him, and sit down on a nearby stool. “So, there I was this morning, out in my yard, bringing my trash out. It was windy. I was wearing a dress. I also wasn’t wearing any panties. I saw my neighbour, I waved, and then leaned down to move my hose when the wind came in ...”

Roman grins. The devil.

“And my dress blew up, right up, and showed my entire ass to my male neighbour.”

Roman laughs, shaking his head. “He got the whole view, yeah?”

“The whole thing. Ass. Lady parts. All of it.”

“Admit it,” Roman says, grinning and walking over beside me, “you didn’t accidentally lean over.”

He pretends to be me and walks over leaning down really slow and sticking his ass in the air. I burst out laughing.

“Oh, look,” he says in his girly voice. “My hose is on the ground, I must pick it up. Ooops, is that my dress blowing up.”

He stays leaned over, and then stands in slow motion. “Oh, hi, neighbour. How nice to see you.”

“You’re a jerk!” I laugh, tossing another chip at him. “Seriously. It was an accident.”

“Sure it was.” He wiggles his brows.

“It was.”

“Well, looks like you’ve acquired a new stalker now. My job here is done.”

I huff, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

“I don’t know why we’re friends sometimes,” I joke. “You’re a dick.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

I throw another chip at him, he catches it and pops it into his mouth. I roll my eyes and stand, walking past him to get another drink, but he catches me around the waist and hauls me against him. Then he brings his lips down over mine, kisses me softly, and lets me go with a grin.

God. He can be charming when he wants, I’ll give him that much.

I get another drink, with a stupid grin on my face, and then go join him on the sofa. I turn slightly and face him, and for a second, he studies me. It’s nice to have someone looking at me like that.

“You’re really pretty.”

I flush. “Ah, thanks.”

“Nah, seriously, I know I have said it before but you have a natural beauty. I don’t know many girls that can get away with not wearing any makeup and look as good as you.”

I smile. “I’ve never been into makeup.”

“You don’t need it, you’d be crazy to wear it.”

“Your ex wear it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course. She had to put her face on every morning.”

“Ah, fair enough.”

“I didn’t care, but, there was this one time when I was visiting her on the coast and a hurricane was coming. I said to her, go to the store and get some batteries, food, a flash light, things like that while I was tying everything down. When I called her a few hours later, asking where the hell she was, she told me she was shopping for makeup.”

I blink.

He’s kidding ... right?

“You’re joking?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I was so fucking angry.”

“Wow, that’s just ... wow.”

There's something about the world, about people, about love, that I'll never understand. I'll never quite grasp how a person can be selfish, cruel, manipulative, a liar, a cheat and an all round despicable human, yet they're the ones that are loved, deeper than most. They're cherished. They get chased. They get fought for. Why? What is it about those people that keeps others hanging on so tightly? What is it, about an ugly soul, that gives them all the good in the world? And why is it, I wonder, that the beautiful souls always get left behind?