Page 55 of The Agent
She’d never wanted anyone so badly in her life. Hell, she didn’t think she’d ever want anyone else again after knowing what this felt like. Roman was going to ruin her.
And not only was Camila going to let him, but she was going to love every fucking second of it.
Wordlessly, he guided her to the bed, lying on his side and pulling her in close. He kissed her as if he could do it all night, his hands roaming over her and lingering in all the spots that made her breath catch. She wrapped her fingers back around his cock, using his body language to learn what he liked, then what hereallyliked. With each “yes” and every moan, wetness gathered and built between her legs, his pleasure pushing her closer to her own. Roman circled her clit with his fingers, and Camila bucked against them, greedy for more.
“Please,” she said, turning on her back and letting her thighs part. “I need you inside me, Roman.”
He didn’t waste an extra second giving her what she’d asked for. In a flash, he was on top of her, sliding the head of his cock over her want-slick pussy. Her clit throbbed as he brushed over it once, then twice. But then he pressed inside, and Camila couldn’t even breathe, let alone beg for more.
“Camila.” Although it slipped between his teeth, Roman still turned her name into a prayer. “Christ. You’re…”
His sentence went unfinished when she thrust against him, even though his cock was as deep inside of her as it could go. Gripping her hip with one hand, he leaned forward, planting his opposite palm over the bed sheets by her shoulder. He pulled back by only an inch or two before filling her again, and her inner muscles clenched, squeezing his cock.
Roman’s eyes were fixed on the spot where he filled her, watching intently as they began to move together. Camila lifted her hips, matching his rhythm, then letting him take control. He fucked her in long, slow thrusts, the ridge of his cock grazing her clit on each glide, and she chased the release starting to swirl deep in her belly.
“That’s it, baby,” Roman told her, his stare catching hers in the near darkness, then moving back to their bodies as she rocked faster. “Take what you need. I want to watch how pretty you are when you come on my cock.”
Camila gripped his forearm, digging her heels into the mattress for leverage as their bodies slapped together, again and again. Her orgasm slammed into her, pulling her bowstring tight beneath him, and he filled her pussy with every wave. His breathing grew ragged, but as soon as he began to slow, Camila reached up to cup his face.
“You don’t have to hold back with me,” she said, recapturing the rhythm between them. “I want you.Allof you.”
Roman’s grip slid to her waist and tightened. His movements grew harder, then faster, his hips pistoning and his cock filling her to the hilt with every thrust. Need rolled off him in waves, and Camila met every motion to try and fulfill it. On one last thrust, his body went still, then started to shudder, his expression so intense in release that it sent goose bumps over her skin. Still, she worked him through every last moan and whisper of her name, wrapping her arms around his shoulders when he finally lowered his body all the way over hers.
“Oh, my God, thank you,” she said, and Roman’s responding laugh was so dark and sexy, Camila wanted to eat it for dessert.
“Trust me. It was my pleasure.” Concern streaked through his smile as he shifted to his side, his eyes dropping to her hip, then scanning the rest of her body. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not even the tiniest bit,” Camila said. On the contrary, she hadn’t felt this good…well, ever.
“I got a little intense.” Enough apology hung in his voice for her to turn to her side so she could see his eyes.
“Roman,” she whispered, her heart kicking when he didn’t look away. “Remember when you told me you’re starting to like my brand of impulsive?”
He nodded, and she kissed him once, very softly, before saying, “Well, I’m starting to like your brand of intensity. Especially when it gives me multiple orgasms.”
A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Fair enough.”
Camila knew she could end the conversation here, and hell, maybe she should. But she trusted Roman with her life. The least she could do was trust him with her feelings, too.
“Look, I’m not really one to hold back, so I’m just going to say this. I like you. I’ve liked you since I met you, and now, I also trust you. We’re stuck together in this safe house for who knows how long and just had phenomenally great sex and I don’t know exactly what that means or what it makes us, but I do know I don’t want it to get weird. And not just because we’re going to be here for a while.”
For a long moment, Roman said nothing, and shit. Shit, he wasn’t an emotions kind of guy. She liked to shoot straight from the hip, sure, but spilling her guts, especially right after they’d had sex, had been such a bad idea.
But then he looked at her, his eyes barely visible in the nearly dark room, and said, “I like you, too. More than just this.” He gestured to their very naked bodies beneath the sheets. “I don’t know what that means, either. But I’d like to find out. After all”—he dropped a kiss to her forehead, and she felt his mouth part in a smile—“it’s not like we’ve done any of this the normal way to begin with.”
She laughed. “You have a point.”
And as they settled against each other, their bodies warm and tangled in the growing shadows, Camila realized exactly how much she was beginning to like Kai Roman, and not just for the orgasms.
18
Roman was entirely out of his depth. Yes, he’d been shot at, and yes, he’d (finally) been tasked with tracking down three very elusive, very dangerous criminals, at least one of whom was also a murderer. But none of that rocked his composure more than the sight of Camila standing in front of the open safe house fridge in nothing but a three-sizes-too-big T-shirt, her sex-mussed hair twirled into a knot on top of her head and a crooked tune humming past the lips he’d just spent over an hour kissing. Of the thousands of scenarios he’d trained for, not one of them had prepared him for how this woman made him feel.
Which would be dangerous. If only he didn’t feel too good—toorightwith her—to fight it.
“Sorry about the clothing situation,” Roman said, forcing himself out of his head and back in the moment. “We can ask Intelligence to send some of your things tomorrow so you’re more comfortable.”
Camila nodded, looking down at the T-shirt they’d found in a drawer in the bedroom. “That would be great. Not that I don’t love rocking the safe house chic look, but having my own clothes would be nice.” She gestured to the cupboard in front of her. “We’ve got a few options for dinner, although sadly, none of them are samosas. It looks like nearly everything here is either a sandwich ingredient or it comes from a can. But I think we can make this work.”