The other side of the bed was empty and cold. She told herself that it wasn't the empty, cold bedside that left her stomach feeling like it just fell through the floor. She was just hungry, that's all. It took her several minutes of searching to find her red satin nightgown.
She blushed remembering his order for her up on the bed, then licking her sex as if he liked it. No, like was didn't begin to describe it, he acted as though he had to lick her sex or he'd die. No man had ever touched her like that, made her feel such an intense orgasm. Her sex pulsed with heat, warning her that her thoughts were turning her on.
Wishing she had a baggy hoodie and jeans now, she went in search of Rome. It didn't take long. She heard the distinct clicking of typing down the hall and followed the sound until she reached an office. He sat at a long wooden desk that held stacks of paper, a large computer monitor, phone, and coffee cup. He still hadn't noticed her so she took a moment to study the room.
His desk chair was brown leather and looked worn with years of use. Only one window provided any natural light, but the blinds and curtains were closed so the only light was the dimmer overhead one. Two bookshelves nearly as high as the ceiling lined the opposite wall by his computer desk. They were packed full, some even double stacked with books blocking the others out.
Innate curiosity had her wandering to the bookcase and reading the titles. She heard the clicking stop, but didn't turn around. She heard his chair roll as he got up, but she pretended to ignore him and studied the books. It was like trying to ignore a panther in the same room as you.
Encyclopedias, dictionaries, thesauruses, contemporary science, mathematics, computer-programming books. Alison shuddered at the amount of texts before her, especially non-fiction. She hated to read, although seldom did she admit that. It was like committing a blaspheme. People frowned at her and looked at her as if she was some malformed alien insect. So she usually lied and said she liked to read fiction. She wasn't proud of herself, but it was better than seeing the shocked scorn on people's faces. Plus it keeps from having to hear about which authors she just needs to try.
She felt heat behind her. "I'm afraid I don't have much of an interesting collection. Do you like to read?" Alison pretended to study the author of the dictionary for a moment before straightening.
"No, actually I don't." She didn't mean to tell the truth, and she really hadn’t meant to say it with such vehemence. She looked behind her to see his lips fighting a grin.
"Me too."
She gave him a look that said yeah right and rolled her eyes. "Then why do you have so many books. I mean this isn't just one bookshelf full, this is two, and they are stacked in front of each other so you have twice as many, and you have even more stacked sideways on top of those."
He laughed again and reached over her should to grab one off the shelf. "I'm a computer scientist. I kept many of my books from college, though many are outdated by today's programming standards. However as new editions come out of let's say, Java or C++, then I need to be alert of the changes. It's what I get paid to do."
"What's see plus plus?"
He flipped through the book, turned to a page, and showed it to her. "That looks like a bunch of random letters and numbers to me," she said.
"Of course, however, what I see is a basic program for creating word processing software. See, each program you use on a computer has to be created using different kinds of code. C++ is just one of them, one of the oldest too."
"So is that what you do? Make computer programs?"
He shrugged. "Among other things."
"Who do you work for?"
"Right now I have a contract with the Department of Defense. I have a deadline coming up, that's why I left the bed earlier." He grabbed her hips and suddenly she found herself crowded against the bookshelf, his mouth hot on hers. He broke the kiss and dove down to bury his face in her neck, breathing deep. "It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do."
Alison tried to ignore his words, but was afraid they were forever etched in her memory. Her stomach saved her from acknowledging his words when it growled.
He laughed and pressed a kiss to her neck. "That sounded like a bear about to kill a man."
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Do you like to eat?" He raised his head slowly and stared at her.
"Yes, I find food quite enjoyable”—he looked like he was fighting not to laugh—“Why don't you let me make something for you?"
"That’s not what I meant! I mean, I cook. It's what I do. Want some breakfast?" He arched a brow and nodded. She moved to pass him, but he stopped her by cupping a breast through her nightgown. She stifled a moan as her nipple instantly responded to his touch, hardening in his hot palm. He watched her expression as he pinched and tugged the peak. Only after she gasped and flushed with arousal did he let her go.
"I'm not done with you Alison, and don't forget that I have questions for you. And I expect honest answers or else." She left the room and his threatening words on quick feet.
Rome watched Alison moved around his kitchen as if she'd been his cook for years. She found all the utensils, pots, pans, and food like she’d put them there herself. She even managed to find a cheese grater he didn't even know he had.
Watching her move around his kitchen made him feel something he'd never felt before, it was like he had another purpose now. To do what though, he had no idea. But he was betting it wasn't just to eat whatever it was she was making.
Damn it smelled good in here. The skillet sizzled as she dropped a dollop of butter in it. She added chopped onion and vegetables and soon the kitchen blazed with delicious scents. She opened his fridge and bent down to grab the milk, revealing her round cheeks to perfection. He groaned and ran a hand over his hard cock.
Soon, he told it, soon. She was killing him in that thing. He wanted to put her on the table and fuck her right now. But the need to feed her was stronger than fucking her, though not by much.
"So what's your history with Conlin?" She faltered in mid-step and put the milk away. He hated the way her glowing skin dimmed at the mention of Conlin. He wanted to bloody the man's face with his bare hands, but first he needed to learn about him. The man was sick; no doubt about that, and his perverted interest in Alison was going to stop. He’d see sure to it.
"I don't like to talk about it. You know, your kitchen isn't nearly adequate. You have no non-stick pans, or even a whisk for that matter, and you only have three dried seasonings. Salt, pepper, and dill. I know you're not a chef, but how do you eat? Heck, what do you eat?"
He laughed at her jab and let the deflection go, for the moment. "I eat when I can, I don't usually have time to eat a lot or cook with work. I usually just throw a steak on the grill or in the broiler."
She spun to look at him with wide eyes. "And that's all? No vegetables or anything?" He shrugged and laughed at her expression. Deep warmth spread through his chest and he rubbed at it curiously. She sounded almost as if she cared about him.
"Why? Does it bother you that I don't eat much," he taunted her, leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed at the ankles in front of him.
Her mouth opened to reply, but she stopped, stirred the food, and then replied taking care with her words. "I only want you to have good nutrition, that's all."
He burst out laughing at her awkwardness. She cut him a hard glare that had him stifling his chuckles between tight lips. She pulled plates out of a cabinet and plated the food.
"Wow, this smells great. It looks good too." Her eyes lit up as she set the plate in front of him. She seated herself and stared at him expectantly until finally he cut a bite of his chicken breast and took a bite.