Mine to Keep

by Rhenna Morgan

  He followed tight on her heels.

  When she passed the master bedroom’s threshold, she turned and volleyed her gaze between him and his hand on the doorknob. “Did you need something before you head to your room? I mean, I can duck out for a while if you need to get more things.”

  He shut the door. “No.” Satisfaction roared inside him as the lock snicked into place. He faced her. “I have everything I need right here.”

  His attention might have been rooted on her, but hers was riveted to the doorknob behind her. She swallowed hard then shifted her gaze to him. “What’s going on?”

  “There have been enough words spoken.” He stalked toward her.

  Bonnie answered with a shaky backward step of her own. “I’m gonna have to disagree on that one. Especially right now.” The backs of her knees met the end of the bed, and she braced her hands on his chest. Not a push to keep him away, though. If anything, her fingers twitched against the fabric of the long-sleeved tee he’d donned this morning. As if her instinct was to explore him the way she had at her father’s house, but her conscience wouldn’t relent.

  Much as it pained him to rob himself of her touch—even for a moment—he pulled her hands free and pushed her jacket off her shoulders. “I promised you clarity.” He tossed the jacket to the floor and nudged her off balance so she ended up seated on the edge of the bed. “Now, you will get it in a way you cannot misunderstand.”

  She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue further, but clamped it shut when he knelt on one knee at her feet. The shoes Evette had loaned her to match the André’s uniform were understated. Black leather with a modest heel. Definitely not the style Bonnie would have picked for herself, but more comfortable while tending bar.

  He lifted her foot and slipped the first shoe free, the reality of what he was doing—what he was committing to in this moment and all that came after—weighting him in a strangely gratifying way. He was actually doing this. Giving himself to one woman, and with it, opening himself up to the worst kind of disappointment if he failed to win her.

  If she found his past and all the sins that went with it untenable.

  “Roman?” So much uncertainty in her voice. Confusion woven with the barest hint of hope. “What are you doing?”

  Keeping his attention on his task, he set her second shoe on the floor and cradled her tiny feet in his hands. Her toes were painted a whimsical pink and her skin pale against his own. So delicate. Almost dainty when compared to the indomitable spirit she portrayed to the rest of the world.

  He skimmed his fingertips over her ankles and the tops of her feet. “Divesting you of your armor, malen’kaya koroleva.”

  “My what?” It wasn’t an argumentative question. More one that reflected an inability to comprehend anything beyond his touch.

  He understood the sentiment. Would much prefer to peel each article of clothing from her body and absorb the treasure underneath without anything to detract from his attention. He carefully placed her feet back on the floor, stood and reached for the buttons on her vest.

  She stilled his hands with her own. “I think we need to talk.”

  He wanted to keep going. To crush her mouth against his and kiss her until she was pliant in his arms and eager for more.

  But how could he? Her mind was the problem. Years of doubt and distrust that had nothing to do with him or his family preventing the truth from finding its way to her heart.

  And yet, words seemed insufficient to convey what he needed to share. All that he wanted to give her and show her. “You know what’s happening. Your mind might fight it, but the rest of you knows.”

  She shook her head, but her hand tightened on his. “Us doing this...it’s a bad idea. I’m living with you. Working for you. What happens when we find my family and everything’s over?”

  There it was. The fear. Trembling on her lips. Quivering in her grip.

  “Ah, vozlyublennaya. We will be many things together.” He palmed the back of her head and splayed his hand low on her back. “But we will never be over.”

  He kissed her. Took his fill of her taste. Of the soft press of her body against his and her sweet moans. Poured his conviction into every touch and savored the irrefutable acceptance her body offered in response. He nipped her lower lip and fought back the possessive snarl rolling up the back of his throat. “What you feel...what this is...will not go away.” He grazed his teeth along her jawline. Sampled the skin along the column of her neck.

  Her head dropped back and her pulse thudded beneath his lips. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “It’s not that simple. You know that.”

  “Yes. It is.” He skimmed his mouth along the shell of her ear. Across her cheekbone. Then whispered against her lips. “Leave the past behind you where it belongs. Give your future to me.”

  She shuddered against him and her eyelids slowly opened. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  Oh, yes, he did. Knew he’d be facing a similar terror when the time came to share his past. “I know, and I want it anyway.” His arms tightened around her of their own volition. As if the primitive part of him was terrified she’d balk and run. He rested his forehead on hers, his mouth so close to hers he ached for another taste. “Say yes. Give yourself to me. Trust me to see to your needs.”

  Her breath fanned against his face, short, ragged exhalations that matched his own. “You’re crazy.” An ironic chuckle slipped out after her words. “I’m crazy. This whole thing is—”

  He kissed her again. A short, but firm press of his lips against hers before her fears could reengage. “Do it anyway.”

  She studied him for what felt like forever, trepidation, desire and indecision etched in every feature of her face.

  The beast inside him snarled, snapped and clawed, demanding he take action. To seize what was theirs and make assurances after the fact.

  But the best parts of his life had never been forced. Had been offered freely. No strings. No demands.

  So, he waited.

  And waited.

  Kept his guard uncomfortably lowered so she could seek whatever it was she needed and tried not to think about any outcome save the one he wanted. The one he needed.

  When she finally spoke, pain painted her voice in a thready rasp. “The future covers a lot of ground. You barely know me. No way can you promise me that much.”

  He could. He knew himself. Knew what he’d waited for and was smart enough to appreciate that he’d found it. But he respected her caution. Her wisdom and experience. “Then give me tonight. Take tomorrow and the days that come after it one at a time. But do not keep this from us.”

  Her gaze drifted down and to one side, her focus distant as if remembering. It sharpened again almost as quickly and she coasted her hands up and down his arms. A gesture that seemed as if she were trying to assure herself of where she was. That he and everything he’d said was real. Her breath came faster, and she lifted her gaze to his. “For tonight. After that, we’ll see.”

  It was all he needed. One day—one night—at a time could be strung together. It was how Sergei had earned Roman’s trust. Earning Bonnie’s would be no different. Now he could show her. What it meant to be safe. Protected. Appreciated for who she was and encouraged to reach for what she wanted.

  But tonight he would show her pleasure. Would stake his claim and forge a physical bond between them. He traced her lower lip with his thumb, and her kiss-swollen mouth parted on a sigh. Her eyelids slipped closed.

  All the better. Her eyes had always been his undoing. The depth and expressiveness behind them. So much passion boldly displayed in their mossy depths.

  Dragging his touch lower, he skimmed the pulse at her throat. Then lower, slowly dragging the moment out until the top button of her fitted white blouse blocked his path.

  “You know...” Surrendering the direct contact with her skin,
he made quick work of unfastening the buttons of her vest. “Watching you work tonight, I decided perhaps it is time for me to rethink our uniforms.”

  Her eyes snapped open just as he pushed the vest over her shoulders and sent it floating to the floor. “It looks bad?”

  “Quite the contrary.” He slipped her shirttail free of the tailored black slacks and worked each pearl button free. Sliding his hand inside the placket, his fingertips grazed the bare flesh of her stomach. Up, up, up he went until the beat of her heart hammered beneath his touch. “On you, it is too appealing. Too many men admired you for my taste, and my vor would advise that plucking their eyes from their heads would be bad for business.”

  She tried to throw her customary sass, but missed the mark entirely, her words too breathless. “That’s a little over the top, don’t you think?”

  A barely contained growl rolled low in his throat. One that only gained momentum as her shirt went the way of her vest. “You have no idea of what I’m capable of.” He traced the line where her bra covered the swell of one breast. Such a simple garment. No silk. No lace. No bold or pastel designer colors. Just a basic tan made of a soft but lasting fabric.

  But it didn’t detract from the mounds beneath. Rather drove home how exquisite and natural the woman beneath really was. He met her eyes and found the clasp between her shoulder blades. One flick of his fingertips and all that stood between him and his first glimpse of her breasts was a single tug and gravity. “I protect what’s mine.”

  He guided the straps down her arms and let the bra slip to the floor between them. Looking away from the glory that awaited him was impossible. A feat no more achievable than keeping at bay the words that came next. “Make no mistake, malen’kaya koroleva. You are mine.”

  Her whole body trembled. Quivered beneath his gaze as sure as if his fingers already stroked between her legs. Her breasts were full. A perfect fit for his hands, with dusky tips already jutting for his attention. He couldn’t wait to get his lips on them. To tease and torment the tips with his tongue and teeth and explore exactly what manner of play excited her the most.

  “For tonight,” she said.

  For forever.

  There was no point in denying it. She might not be ready to admit as much yet, but he’d owned it. Would fight for what he wanted as he had for every other precious person in his life. He released the fastener for her pants and pushed them over her hips.

  Bohze, but her curves were the stuff of a man’s dreams, the line from her hip to her waist one he had every intention of paying homage to with his hands and his mouth.

  She inched closer to him and gripped his shirt at each side, trying to tug the cotton free of his jeans.

  He stopped her before she could complete her task. “Not yet, malen’kaya koroleva.” He crouched in front of her and skated his palms from the outside of her knees up her thighs to the waistband of her panties. Like her bra, they were modest. Built more for function and longevity than sexual display, but still sexy as hell considering the woman who wore them. “Not until I can see all of you.”

  He hooked his fingers in the soft fabric and peeled her panties down her thighs.

  Perfect.

  Creamy skin. Dark, fiery hair. Voluptuous in every sense of the word.

  “What does that mean?”

  He heard her voice. Fully acknowledged she’d spoken, but had a hard time connecting her question to a specific context. “What does what mean?”

  “Malen’kaya koroleva.”

  He trailed his fingers up the inside of her thighs. What difference did it make if he answered now? He had far more difficult questions to answer in the days to come, and he’d made her wait long enough.

  He ran the back of his knuckles across the closely trimmed dark curls covering her mound. “It is what you have reminded me of since the first day I met you.” He palmed her hips, rising to his full height as he caressed the stretch of skin along her sides. “A little queen, mighty despite your size. Fierce with your words and your fire.”

  “Little queen? Me?” Watching her was adorable. Her curiosity warring with the need for more physical contact.

  “Indeed.” Sliding each hand inward, he grazed the lower swell of each breast.

  She gasped at the teasing contact and her back bowed on a silent plea for more. Giving it to her was tempting. His palms ached for the feel of her. To forgo tender touches and give his beast free rein.

  But not yet. Not until he gave her all of it. The truth he’d only just admitted to himself. “Moya Koroleva.” He cradled each side of her face and repeated the words in English. “My Queen.”

  Pure wonder shone from her eyes. Wonder and so much hope it both broke his heart and fueled his determination to win her. “I don’t...” She clutched his shirt and shook her head. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

  He did.

  Knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t rest until those same eyes stared back at him by night’s end fully sated and blissful. He pressed her backward, cushioning her descent to the bed with a hand at the back of her head, then growled against her lips. “You let go. And you enjoy.”

  She groaned into his kiss. Pressed her naked body against his, tugged his shirt free of his jeans and plunged her hands beneath the hem.

  Fuck, but her touch was magnificent. As demanding and intoxicating as her taste. As curious and explorative as her mind. She shoved his shirt higher and pulled away from his mouth only long enough to mutter, “Off.”

  Yes. Skin to skin was better. More contact. More connection. More everything.

  He rolled to the side of the bed and made fast work of his shoes and clothes, every second it took to rid himself of any remaining barriers spent with her looking her fill. Visually devouring every inch he exposed without an ounce of shame or trepidation.

  And she was hungry.

  His beast knew it. Felt it and roared its approval when she pushed herself upright and sensually crawled toward the edge of the bed, her gaze locked on his straining cock. With her mouth just inches from his shaft, she licked her lips and met his stare. “I get to enjoy, right?”

  Fuck.

  He’d never heard her voice so husky. So heated and sexy. He should be seeing to her needs. Spoiling her. Learning her body and what brought her pleasure.

  But he couldn’t move. Could barely breathe as her attention slowly trailed a languorous path down his torso to his aching shaft. Perhaps she wasn’t a queen, but a sorceress. An enchantress capable of rendering him powerless with nothing more than a look and the promise of her touch.

  Slowly, she reached for him. Traced a delicate line from the base of his cock to the tip and smiled. A devious grin filled with delight. “I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen you look uncertain.”

  It was exactly what he needed. A catalyst to shake him loose of her thrall and help him remember his purpose. He tried to answer with a steady tone. What came out was closer to that of a deadly predator than anything human. “Uncertainty implies doubt.” He snatched her wrist, planted one knee between her thighs and crowded close. “I have no doubt. Not where you’re concerned.”

  He hooked his hands beneath her arms, gently tossed her to the center of the bed and proved just that. With his mouth. With his touch. With his body. Explored her curves. Teased and suckled her nipples until she writhed beneath him. Kissed and licked his way down her belly until she eagerly widened her knees.

  And what a delicious sight. Her pink folds drenched and swollen. Her sweet nub peeking from behind its hood and begging for his attention. He slicked his fingers through her wetness. Growled his approval when she rolled her hips against them and arched her back on a moan. So uninhibited. Gloriously wanton in her response. On fire and eager for his touch.

  He slid one finger inside her, and his cock jerked at the promise of feeling her heat around it. D
emanded its due and the connection that came with it. “This is mine.” He added another finger, slowly building a rhythm she readily met. “You are mine.”

  “Oh, my God...” A whispered plea. An urgent demand she paired with the desperate squeeze of her hand on his shoulder. Her eyelids opened, slowly as though the weight of them made the process nearly impossible, and met his stare. Passion burned behind her glossy green eyes. “Stop talking. Give me more. Let me come.”

  There she was.

  His Queen. Commanding her due. Owning her place.

  With him.

  He let her see his pleasure. Let his beast shine through with its feral smile, pushed one of her knees wider and lowered his mouth so his response whispered against her straining clit. “With pleasure.”

  Her cry as his mouth surrounded her was sheer bliss. Her taste exquisite.

  He suckled harder. Pumped his fingers inside her scalding sex until her muscles quivered and she bucked against each stroke. Her fingers clawed against his scalp and her breath caught—and then she was gone, her sex pulsing around his fingers. Legs quivering against his shoulders and her release coating his tongue.

  So sweet. A carnal delight that went beyond anything he’d imagined. That whetted his appetite and made him ravenous for more.

  She rode each press of his fingers. Ground her pelvis against him in a sublime display of sensuality until her breathing evened and her muscles relaxed. “Wow.” Her fingertips gently scored through his hair, a languorous touch that made the predator in him purr. “That was...” He lifted his head in time to see her roll her head from side to side, her eyes still closed and her lips curved in a satisfied smile. “I’m not sure there are good enough words for how that felt.”

  He tenderly grazed the inside of one thigh with his teeth, then licked the same spot with his tongue. “You say that as though you are surprised.”

  She chuckled at that, the low warmth of the sound one reserved for only the most intimate lovers. She opened her eyes. “Well, let’s face it. Most men wouldn’t give up the promise of a blowjob in favor of what you just gave me. Let alone stay with it long enough to make a woman come that hard.”