“That’s bullshit.”
She winced before slowly moving past him, and hurrying down the stairs. She hadn’t proven him innocent. The man she was dealing with at the moment could be a seriously dangerous one, but somehow, she still wasn’t afraid. She still loved him and, upon hearing him give the same sentiment back, still pounded for him. Yearned for him. Her center soaked with need for him.
She must have been truly insane, and removing herself from the situation seemed the only option. She couldn’t trust herself, she couldn’t trust her body, and she damn sure couldn’t trust her heart.
She had to go.
Loud booms, one after the other, filled the apartment as Roman charged down the stairs after her. “What changed?”
“Nothing.” She moved to the door and cupped her coat off the rack.
“Are you sleeping with someone else?” He came up behind her.
She turned to face him, and saw the poignant effect that question had on him. If she thought he’d been falling apart before, it was only because she’d yet to see him in the state he was now. Like she could crush him to dust with the answer to one simple question.
“No.”
“Then why are you doing this? Why are you pulling away from me?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“It’s nothing.”
He broke. “God damn it, it’s not nothing, Angie. Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I can feel it. I can feel you pulling away from me. It’s like you’re afraid of me.”
She went to put her arm into her coat, gaping in shock when he grabbed it from her hand and snatched it away, balling it up in his big, trembling fists. “Give me my coat, Roman.”
“Not until you talk to me about what the hell is happening right now.”
“You told me a month ago that you just wanted to be friends. That this was just sex, and you could never be my boyfriend. I thought that was what you wanted.”
“There’s nothing I can do to change what I did and said in the past. All I know is that I love you now. I want you. You’re the only thing in my life… that keeps it worth living.” If he were glass, he would have shattered to pieces at that moment. “I fall harder, deeper in love with you, every second. Every second I stand here looking at you, I love you more, and it’s as if… the more I fall for you, the harder I’m fighting. I feel like I’m fighting harder every second to hold on to you. And I don’t know why.” His voice trembled as he spoke.
Angie watched her coat move as he rang it in his hand, sure he might rip it clear apart if she decided to walk out of that apartment without it.
“You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you.”
“You were ready to lose me before.”
“I should’ve known what I had, but I didn’t. You kept pouring out you’re soul, and I kept shitting all over it. I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was dead wrong.”
She jammed her eyes shut as her heart began taking a backseat to her logic, her sound judgment. The dark cloud that loomed in her mind seemed to dissipate every time she allowed herself to look up into those eyes. So she stared at the floor.
“I know you love me. I can see it right now. Stop pulling away from me.” He reached for her, and when she stepped back, his eyes shrunk. She could see his heart splitting as if it were planted right there on his face.
“I should go.” Her logic was making a rebound.
And he was running out of fight.
She couldn’t blame him. There was only so much beating a man’s ego could take, and Roman looked about maxed out. Averting his eyes, he stepped up to her when she put her hand on the door handle.
“Wait,” he said. “Your coat.”
She allowed him to come up behind her and help her into her coat.
Once it was on, he wrapped his arms around hers, trapping them, and pulled her body to his.
“You told me I would always belong here,” he whispered, fiercely, into her ear. “That I would always have a place right here, with you.” His breathing picked up. “What do you want? Whatever you want, it’s yours. Please don’t walk away from me.”
Angie had to fight against every bone in her body that screamed for her to stay. To ask him what was true. To ask him if he’d been driving the car that night, but she couldn’t.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, jamming his eyes shut as he breathed in the scent of her hair, clutching her heaving stomach as he held her to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you back then, but I’m telling you now. Don’t turn your back to me.”
She fought tears.
“Tell me you don’t love me. If you can tell me that, I’ll let you go. I’ll let you go, and you’ll never hear from me, again.”
The thought of it terrified her. Never seeing Roman again, as far as she was concerned, was a fate worse than death.
But what could she say? That she loved him too, but wouldn’t dare speak it, because it would mean she loved a key suspect in her investigation? That she loved him too, a man who may have been responsible for the death of her best friend’s parents? That she loved him too, but wasn’t allowed, because that would mean she’d let herself love, and madly so, a cold-blooded killer? What an idiot she would be, allowing her gut to shatter apart from just one kiss, one touch, one fuck. Angie Colt was no idiot, so she looked over her shoulder, up into those eyes, those eyes that still destroyed her with one hit, and she lied.
“No, Roman, I don’t love you.”
His hold only tightened. “You’re lying.”
“Let me go.”
“Something’s killing you, and you’re keeping it from me.”
Angie looked off.
“Don’t lie to me. Please, Angie. Not you. Anyone but you. Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you.”
She jammed her eyes shut.
“Tell me.” He shook her softly, huge body hunched over hers, shielding her and entrapping her all at once. “Tell me what’s in your head. Whatever’s hurting you, whatever it is, give it to me, and I’ll feel it for you.”
“Roman,” she begged.
“Tell me what you want.”
She heard the agony in his voice, and couldn’t stop it from touching her own.
His breathing grew ragged as he fought. “Do you want my soul, this roof, the clothes off my back?” He breathed deep and tightened his hold. “Do you want a ring? Name it. Anything, baby. Please…” He buried his head in her hair completely.
Angie reached up from where he held her arms solid against her chest, managing to move her hands only far enough to cover his own with hers. She timed her breathing, thinking as clearly as she was capable of when this man was so close to her. Turning her head toward him, she met his eyes, and knew she was a woman gone.
He descended on her, taking her lips before she could protest, and the moment their lips met, she was his, again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was sure she always would be.
One last time, she told herself, turning into his lips with a helpless whimper, allowing him to rip her coat off of her shoulders and sweep her off her feet as his tongue crept between her lips.
He carried her up the stairs to his bedroom with ease, setting her on her feet only long enough to rip the button and zipper of her pants apart, and shove them down her legs. Her panties followed in his trembling haste, and they hadn’t even hit her ankles before he was devouring her clit, forcing his tongue between the sweet gap in her thighs, and lapping up her musky wetness with vigor.
Angie’s fingers disappeared in his blonde locks as he ate her slowly, but with surprising preciseness. He’d grown to know her body, to love it, and he knew where to go when he wanted to make her cum instantly. She clutched his hair with nearly too much force when the pleasure nearly ate her limb from limb, drowning in the distant sound of his busy lips, whispering promises and declarations that she was foolish enough to allow to reach her heart.
A string of her pleasure followed him
as he pulled away, broken only when he pressed a kiss to each of her hipbones, allowing his eager fingers to move in where his tongue had previously lived. He wasted no time, pushing three fingers into her with ease, still on his knees as he looked up at her ecstasy-stricken face.
The pleasure was so intense it rendered her knees useless, and she fell against the glass boundary behind her. His fingers left her as she turned towards the glass, away from him, away from the millions of conflicting emotions he made come alive in her, each more powerful than the last.
She gripped the railing and looked down into the living room below, but her moment of clarity was short lived. He spread her cheeks from behind, and his tongue invaded the skin between them, lapping her up from her rear to her center before pushing his fingers back inside with ease.
“Oh god,” she whispered, clawing her fingers against the glass as he left his mark on every inch of her.
“This is mine, Angelica.” He spoke into her wetness, pushing his fingers deeper. “This is my pussy.”
Her fingers reached behind her and dug deep into his hair, holding his face between her legs as she released the bar with her other hand and gave him all of her. She knelt down onto his face as he ate her, holding his head for leverage as her eyes fluttered shut, screaming when the pleasure of his mouth planted so firmly on her intensified her heartbeat to a level she’d never experienced. She grinded softly, back and forth, unconsciously laying all her weight on his face. A weight he took with ease.
“Say it.” His muffled voice rang out between his noisy laps, pushing his thumb into her rear after licking it clean, eliciting a scream from the deepest part of her as he took all of her.
Fingers entrenched in her, in every part of her he could get, he pushed his head between her legs and leaned against the glass before cupping her ass and pulling her body to him, fastening his lips to her clit.
Angie’s hand slapped back onto the railing as that familiar feeling of both pleasure and pain rolled through her, and almost took her off her feet.
“Say it.” He worked her with both his fingers and his mouth, picking up speed with every second her silence persisted.
“It’s yours, Roman.”
The moment the words left her mouth, he stood, fingers still embedded inside her, and covered her lips with his. He undid his pants with one quaking hand, pushing them down his legs. He removed his fingers from her wetness just long enough to rip his sweater over his head before they found their home inside her, once more. They stumbled out of the rest of their clothes and underwear, making a clumsy, panting path towards the bed, crying out as they fell onto the soft white duvet.
Roman pressed one last hot kiss to her lips before bringing his sopping wet fingers from her center to her mouth.
Angie parted her lips and took them, tasting her juices on his trembling fingers and spreading her legs in time, making room for his weight as he pressed himself between her legs.
Roman couldn’t break his heated gaze from the sight of his glazed fingers embedded in her mouth, the feel of her tongue sucking them deeper, her own eyes locked to his as she swallowed every last drop of herself.
“I love you, baby.” He pushed his dick inside her with ease. She was soaking wet, so he filled her to the hilt with one thrust, pulling his fingers from her mouth when the immediate pleasure proved too much, and he was forced to brace his fists on either side of her body, pulling his dick out until just the head remained, clenching his teeth against the sensation of an orgasm already building.
“Deep,” she pled.
“Wait.” He clawed at the sheets as he battled for control. If she was just some girl, some girl he could care less about, he’d never go out of his way to fight an orgasm as valiantly as he was then. The need to spill himself inside had come quick, quicker than he was used to—than he’d ever experienced—and the need to give in was paralyzing.
Angie turned them, having lost patience. She put him on his back and began to bounce on his cock expertly, just the way she knew he liked.
Just the way he’d taught her.
“Please, Ang, wait.” He couldn’t say another word. He was speechless, so his powerful eyes pled with her instead.
He wanted to make love, he wanted it to be all night, he wanted to take every second he could to prove it to her. To prove that he loved her more than he’d ever love anyone or anything, again.
Angie wasn’t blind to his pleas, but she refused to entertain them. Holding his eyes, never breaking the rhythm of her bouncing hips, she watched his face, recognizing the slow climb he made towards completion while searing her with a look that showed how much she completed him.
A frown, rife with both pain and pleasure, pulled his eyebrows together, and she saw the moment he came.
He reached to touch her, but she caught his wrist, slamming it behind his head just as his hips bucked almost violently beneath her. He reached for her with his other hand as he filled her with his seed, crying out when she stopped that one as well, forcing it to join his other hand above his head. Her body jolted gently under the power of his hips, which were now working blindly, only on orders from his powerful orgasm, hitting her with a force that bordered on pain.
His fingers clawed for hers where she still held them captive above his head, hungry for anything, any touch, any taste. He craned his neck, parted his lips, and took one of her hard nipples between his teeth, wet it with his tongue, moaning with relief when the beauty of feeling her—any part of her—inside of him was finally satiated. Her breast muffled his last cry, the final slam of his hips into hers, and her whimpers met his as he continued assaulting her breast with his eager tongue and teeth.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
Roman’s eyes fluttered open and met hers, not even realizing they’d been closed, breast still in his mouth, dick still twitching within her wet walls. A tear tumbled from his eye as he released her from his mouth, his body still shaking wildly with aftershocks. Against all of his will, his eyes fell closed again, and when she released his wrist, he instantly grabbed her waist, holding his dick inside, taking every residual jolt and tremor as his eyes fell closed.
“Don’t hide from me.” She took his jaw in her small hand, waiting for his eyes to open once more. “Look at me, Roman.”
Tears filled his eyes, and his voice trembled with almost as much ferocity as his body as he whispered, “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
Angie covered his lips with a fiery kiss, even giving him the taste of her tongue that he’d been vying for all night. Their lips lapped passionately, only slowing when Roman’s eyes closed, once more, and he fell into a deep sleep.
Only when she was sure he was out cold did Angie whisper back. “Goodbye, Roman.”
She got dressed, and left his apartment for what she was sure would be the last time.
***
Weeks went by. Before Angie Colt knew it, Spring had arrived. As she made her way to the door of the restaurant on 4th Street, the sun nearly assaulted her face.
She squinted against it, not in the mood for brightness. Sunshine. Happiness.
The laugher that seemed to be coming from all angles, and every stranger on the street, annoyed her, and she found herself throwing open the door to the restaurant to escape it.
Irritatingly, there was just as much laughter in the restaurant as there was out on the street.
Since when had the New York City gotten so damn happy?
She didn’t remember New Yorkers being this happy until after she’d ended things with Roman Romanovsky.
Where were all the critics? The cynics? The glass-half-empties?
Her eyes caught sight of the man who’d invited her here, and she made her way over to him with a glower, stopping next to him at the bar.
“Why did you invite me here?” she demanded.
Henry cut a look at her. “Why do you think?”
Angie sighed.
“He’s a wreck, little lamb.”
&nb
sp; She jammed her eyes closed. “I don’t have a lot of time Henry.”
“You think I’m exaggerating.” Henry chuckled. “I’m not. He’s a damn wreck, and it’s because of you. Says you gave him some sneak attack fuck and then slipped out the door, never to be heard from again. I’d be angry with you if I wasn’t so proud. If he wasn’t my best friend, I would buy you a four course meal and reconsider my abandoned spot on team pussy.”
Angie went to speak, but he wasn’t finished.
“Now I was under the impression that a face as beautiful as his could never know an ugly day, but I was dead wrong bitch. A wreck. A wreck. He’s a fucking wreck.” Henry nodded towards the stool next to him. “Take a seat, this won’t take long.”
With hesitation, Angie finally dropped her bag onto the bar and took a seat next to Henry. He ordered a sweet drink for her, and she rolled her eyes. What didn’t this man understand about ‘I don’t have time?’ When she felt his eyes searing into the side of her face, Angie finally met his gaze.
He smiled a genuine smile. “And here I thought he’d be the one to rip you to teeny, tiny, little-lamb shreds. You surprised me, Ms. Colt.”
Angie had half a mind to inform him that she was far from okay, but was flattered that he couldn’t see what a wreck she was, too.
“Regardless of the lies his face and body tell, Roman is far from perfect, but he’s a good dude. He’s going to fuck up sometimes, but he’s inherently good.”
“Most people are inherently good,” Angie said. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t do bad things sometimes.” She understood the confused expression in Henry’s eyes. Of course he was confused. She’d ended things with Roman because she had no other choice, but there was no way for her to make sense of it to Henry.
She could barely make sense of it herself.
The bartender dropped the sweet drink in front of her, and she downed it in less than four swallows.
Henry and the bartender shared a surprised look, and Henry motioned for a refill.
Claiming Roman Page 30
