Roman's Choice (Saddles & Second Chances Book 1) (4 page)

“We can’t let this end, sweetheart. I want this to last forever.”

“Yes. Forever.”

CHAPTER FOUR

WITH A LETHARGIC moan, Pippa stretched her arms and legs. Her feet popped out from under the satin sheet and her fingers grazed the headboard. She’d never felt so great in her life.
Why?

She fluttered her eyes open, blinking against the sunlight flowing through the large window that overlooked the Vegas strip. She smiled and rolled over, her sensitive breasts and inner thighs slicing awareness straight through to her mind. Reality came in choppy pieces. Roman…sex…lots of sex…the sweet little white chapel.

The sweet little what?

Oh no!

Lifting herself onto one elbow, she scanned the room, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror hanging on the wall. She grimaced.
Oh hell
. She looked like she’d been through a cyclone and lived to tell about it. Her normal straight style had turned into a rat’s nest of ebony tresses standing straight on her head. She attempted to push her fingers through the mess, but it was no use…and that’s when something else grabbed her attention.

A pair of worn, dusty boots sat next to the chair.

Craning her neck, she skimmed the floor looking for further evidence and she found a wrinkled puddle.
His shirt.

“Oh shit,” she whispered.

She hadn’t been dreaming of the tall, tanned, sexy cowboy. It had been real. She’d had sex—amazing sex—with a cowboy. A rodeo star.

Her phone buzzed from the nightstand and she reached over to grab it, but a glinting from her fourth finger of her left hand made everything around her come to a crashing halt. Much like when she was a kid and learned there was no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny.  She looked closer at the wide band. The metal was nicked and dinged. Engraved on the side was the name “Roman”.

Dropping back onto the firm pillow, she searched her brain, every nook and cranny. What happened last night after they’d gone downstairs to have a drink and try out the slot machines? She rubbed her brow, scared to examine the facts. The Elvis impersonator and the words, “You may kiss your bride” were like neon signs in the back of her brain.

She popped up off the pillow, her mind now racing. If his things were here…that would mean he was here too.

Moving her gaze to the closed bathroom door, she gulped down a large dose of truth, her stomach twisting. She heard splashing of water. The faucet shutting off.

Her one-night stand turned into a breakfast thing. She nibbled at her bottom lip, looking back down at the ring. This was a joke. It couldn’t be possible.

Rubbing her temples, she forced the narrow paths of her brain to cooperate.

If her stomach hadn’t been empty, she would have vomited everything up. The ceremony wasn’t a dream.

This wasn’t like Pippa. No, the relationship expert her fans loved wouldn’t be holed up in a hotel room after a hot night…with a makeshift wedding band on her finger.

She jumped out of bed, dragging the sheet around her body as she paced the plush carpeted floor. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. After all, she was a sensible person. Logical. Once Roman came out of the restroom, they’d get to the bottom of things…

*****

Roman gripped the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror, coming to grips with where he was and what he’d done last night that could very possibly change his life forever.

He knew he should have never come to Vegas. He’d given up the lights long ago for a simpler life. He was a country boy, liked his worn jeans, dusty boots, and cowboy hat. He should have woken up to the rooster crowing and the sweet scent of fresh hay. Instead, he woke up with a beautiful woman tucked in his arm.

Not just any woman.

His wife.

Admittedly, he’d been lonely for some time and that’s why he’d fallen into the beautiful woman trap.

He turned his stare to the closed door that led to where that particular woman still lay sleeping.

He’d allowed his loneliness to send him down the wrong path. Back on his family owned ranch, Roman worked himself into exhaustion on the land and the security business. The days always ended with him settling down with a beer in hand, football on the TV, and another restless night in a big, cold bed. His brothers teased him that he was in a rut and Roman guessed they were pretty darn accurate. He was too old, and didn’t care, to hang out at the clubs. He wasn’t about to join the dating sites his friends had pushed him to try. He had gotten used to being alone.

Hell, it wasn’t as if women didn’t find him attractive. That went for all of his single brothers. After Roman’s divorce, a short marriage of eighteen months just three years ago, he’d dived into business and he really hadn’t come up for air since. He’d dated a few times, nothing serious, and hadn’t held a woman in a year…until last night.

He’d been raging with a need, uncontrollable and hot, and he wanted to rack it up to being horny, but the second he saw the petite brunette, his cock had been rampant with a thick desire. It wasn’t as if she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. In fact, her eyes were a little too big for her face and her nose was bent—slightly. Who was he kidding? He’d gotten a good look at her this morning and she was striking. There was something undeniable about her and he’d known the second he saw her at the fairgrounds that he’d need more than just a conversation and a one-night stand. Yet, marriage wasn’t quite what he’d been thinking.

Damn! He shook his head in frustration. He should feel guilt, irritation maybe, over what he’d done, but instead he felt satisfied—if not greedy for more.

A man can only go so long satisfying himself. He’d even gotten to the point where he didn’t even enjoy masturbating. It was a means to an end.

When he first opened his eyes, he’d hoped he had been dreaming. But shifting and seeing her sleeping, nestled up close to his side, made all of his worst fears take root. He was hitched—to a complete stranger. A night of exploring each other’s body didn’t make two people worthy of being husband and wife. The only personal thing he knew about her was her name, Pippa Wilder. He bet it wasn’t even her real name. Who was named Pippa?

He blew out a long breath through his tight lips.

How the hell had he gotten into this situation?

One second he was neck deep in heaven on earth having a wonderful time and, just on a whim, he’d jokingly said they should get hitched and be like all the others who succumbed to the bright lights and charm of Vegas. Hell, he hadn’t expected her to agree, but then again, he hadn’t been disappointed.

There was a simple solution to this. He’d heard many people talk about making a mistake and then getting the marriage annulled. People did it all of the time. Easy peasy.

But there was one problem. What if she didn’t want an annulment? What if she wanted to stay married?

And how could he ask his new wife for a divorce when they’d been married for less than twenty-four hours?

He was in trouble. Big trouble. His brothers would laugh him off the ranch if they got wind of this scenario. Good thing Penn went home yesterday after the event.

Turning, he leaned against the marble counter and tore a hand through his hair. He thought of how Pippa had responded to his lovemaking, how she’d writhed and whimpered under him. He remembered her soft touch, and softer body, that a man craves. And for the second time in a lifetime, he’d married a woman with no possible chance for a future.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. His first wife, Uma, had pursued him until he’d finally yielded to her seduction. Before he knew what he was doing, he married her, the biggest regret of his life. She seemed caring at first until he realized she had a thing for all cowboys and her size DD breasts had worked magic with other cowboys too. He’d grown tired of the rumors of her entertaining other men while he was away on the circuit, packed her bags and had them waiting on the porch when she’d finally gotten home from a Zumba class at midnight. Interestingly enough, she’d cried crocodile tears, but they hadn’t lasted long. She’d known, as well as he had, that she just couldn’t keep her legs closed.

But he’d been thinking of marriage a lot lately. He couldn’t allow the past to sour the future. He deserved—and wanted—a chance at a family. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t want the heartache and risk that went with loving someone. Second chances were rare and he was starting to doubt he’d get one—unless this was his…

He darted another glance at the door.

Holding Pippa last night, he realized how much he’d missed holding a real body—natural and curvaceous. She’d given his self-image a boost after she’d orgasmed at least eight times. In the past, he’d felt like he couldn’t satisfy his wife enough to keep her skirt down, yet no woman had ever complained about his skills.

The day he’d asked, or rather demanded, Uma leave, she’d gone from the sad woman to the witch in a matter of record breaking speed. She’d accused him of being cold, distant, uncaring, and, looking back now, he realized she’d been right. He’d never loved her, not like a man should love a woman, but he’d been raised to make things work and stay loyal, although he’d been gone much of their marriage riding bulls. A man doesn’t like facing the fact that he hadn’t made his partner happy and that she’d had to fill her body with every Tom, Dick, and Harry to find fulfilment.

The few women after Uma had been nothing more than a temporary salve. He didn’t like that he’d used women, but at the same time, he’d been used too. None of them had pursued him wanting a relationship or asked to see him again outside of the one night.

Pushing off the sink, he knew he couldn’t stay in the bathroom hiding like a coward all morning. He had places to be and business to finalize before he headed back to Texas that afternoon, back to his normal life at the Second Chances Ranch.

Splashing his face with cold water and using the complimentary black comb, he finally felt together enough to step out into the large room where he found his bride pacing the floor, a satin sheet wrapped around her body and dragging at her feet. With the back light of the sun, he could see straight through it. He gulped air and commanded his lungs to function. He skimmed his eyes over her and his heart kicked up in speed. She was absolutely breathtaking. Her dark hair was wild around her flushed cheeks. Her green eyes seemed to absorb every sun ray and dazzled like diamonds. Her skin was pale, reminding him of the fresh milk they got from the cows, flawless and smooth. And her body. Oh wow…her body. What words did he have in his limited vocabulary to explain how sexy and seductive her curves were? His cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans and he had a strong desire to rip the sheet from her and remind himself why he’d gotten caught up in this trap in the first place.

But when she realized he was standing there, she came to a sudden stop, her lips twisted and her eyes narrowed. Yeah, she wanted an annulment. Her expression said everything he needed to know. He felt a sudden weight being lifted from his shoulders, and a dagger being driven into his chest.

“I-I took the liberty of ordering coffee. I thought you could use it if you ever came out of the bathroom.”

He scrubbed his jaw and his beard sounded like sandpaper. He needed a shave, but he didn’t much care. “I guess I was in there long enough.”

She grabbed a handful of clothing from the end of the bed and started to pass him for the bathroom, keeping her eyes from meeting his. “I’ve been wanting to change. When I’m finished, we should talk. Okay?” She just kept right on walking and the soft click of the door closing told him she didn’t need a reply to her question. He dragged on his shirt and groaned. The material was wrinkled and buttons were missing. He then slid into his boots and smashed his Stetson low on his head. He felt more put together, ready to take on anything—maybe.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, not bothering with the cream, he needed a strong dose of caffeine to his system. Once he had half of it gone, he could almost forget that he was drinking from a girly china cup. He expected a weak brew, but found that it was a damn good cup of joe. They drank it like tar back on the ranch.

Staring at the closed door to the bathroom, he gulped the last bit of coffee, not caring that it burnt all of the way down his esophagus. He still couldn’t seem to wrap his brain around what he did—marrying Pippa Wilder. He chuckled at the absurdity of the fact. He’d feel like the biggest fool in Las Vegas if statistics didn’t show that this was the city where all hopeful fools roamed. He wasn’t the only one who’d let the lights get to him. But it was more, and he knew it had to do with the feelings Pippa stirred within him.

Luckily, she didn’t hide in the bathroom nearly as long as he had. When she came out he’d convinced himself to keep his gaze steady on a safe region…the top of her head would be good. He couldn’t help himself but have a wandering eye. The tight fitting black dress that accentuated her soft curves didn’t help him curb his appetite. He lowered his eyes over her perfect tits practically bursting from the top of the dress, and he realized he was starving.

He brought his gaze back up, her pale greens were on him in a way that gripped his gut and twisted. He brought his cup to his lips only to realize he’d drained it dry. Putting it down, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Can I get you a cup?”
Can I get you another round of last night’s pleasure too?
He gave himself an inner shake and reminded himself they were headed toward divorce, not dating.