He’s out of the chair and stalking toward me in the blink of an eye. I scrabble backward as he closes the distance between us. The air rushes out of my lungs as my back hits the wall.
Looming over me, he snarls, “You’re playing a dangerous game, princess.”
“I’m not the one playing games,” I retort with renewed strength. “I’ve been very clear about what I want, Roman. It’s you who continues to send mixed messages.”
Boxing me in with his body, he places his forearms against the wall on either side of my head. “Don’t you understand that I’m trying to do what’s best for both of us?” he asks in a voice that sounds rough as sandpaper.
“I never asked you to.”
His heated gaze drops to my lips.
For an agonizing moment, I wait for him to lean in and kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, a growl rumbles up from deep in his chest.
He jerks away, taking his scorching body heat with him. Looking frustrated, he plows a hand through his short hair and walks toward the front door.
“You’re leaving?” Disbelief echoes throughout my words.
With his back to me, Roman’s broad shoulders slump as he pauses. “Yeah.” His back straightens as he grabs the handle.
This is what he does, I realize with a flash of insight.
The morning after we slept together.
Last night.
Now.
He’s running away from me.
I swallow down my disappointment and ask in a steady voice, “Where are you going?”
Opening the door, he throws a glance over his shoulder, his mask of cold indifference back in place. “Nowhere that concerns you.”
His response feels like a slap to my face. There’s something about his agitated demeanor that suggests he’s leaving for good. Panic surges inside me at the thought of not seeing him again. Even though I’m tempted to go after him, I force myself to stand still.
I can’t keep chasing Roman.
Blinking back tears, I ask, “Are you coming back?”
“I don’t have much choice, now do I?” he snaps bitterly, slamming the door behind him.
I flip the lock and set the alarm, tracking Roman as he passes the other plain sedan parked at the curb.
Roman nods at Marco and slips into the driver’s seat of his own vehicle. He must feel the weight of my stare because he glances over at me after starting the engine.
Our gazes lock and hold briefly.
He breaks contact first and drives away, leaving me to pull myself together again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Unable to get comfortable, I huff in frustration and roll onto my side. I’ve slept soundly ever since Roman moved into my house, easily falling into slumber and waking well-rested in the morning.
But not tonight.
His absence has me unable to relax or shut off my brain.
Unsure if he would show up, I prepared dinner and ate alone in silence. Then I spent the rest of the evening flipping through two counseling manuals I ordered online and peeking out the window to see if Marco was still sitting outside the house.
He was. Instead of packing up the leftovers, I put together a plate and brought it out to him. At first, he was taken aback by the gesture but quickly accepted my offering.
I decided to turn in around ten. I’m still wide awake at eleven when the front door opens and closes. The hallway floorboards creak under Roman’s footfalls. My breath catches when he pauses outside my closed bedroom door. I’m tempted to get up and open it, but don’t. If anything is ever going to happen between us, Roman has to make the first move. He’s the one struggling with his feelings. He’s the one who refuses to give in.
Instead of knocking, he continues toward the guest room at the end of the hall, softly closing the door behind him.
Disappointment floods through every fiber of my being as I turn over. Lying on my side, I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for sleep to take me now that Roman has returned.
Another two hours of restlessness creep by, and I’m no closer to falling asleep than I was before. Feeling agitated, I throw off the covers, deciding a hot cup of tea might help settle my nerves. I grab my robe from the hook in the bathroom. This time, I tie the sash securely around my waist to hold the material in place.
The house is silent as I pad into the kitchen. I flip on the small light above the sink and yelp in fright when I turn to find Roman sitting at the table.
His dark, brooding gaze is already locked on mine.
My hand flies to my pounding heart. “Roman! You scared the hell out of me! What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”
My gaze drops from his face to his bare chest, where it lingers with appreciation on his ripped, sinewy muscles and perfectly formed pecs. His flat brown nipples harden under my unabashed scrutiny. Gulping, I ball my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching out and stroking my fingers over all that tightly harnessed strength.
His brows lower as he takes in my flimsy robe. His gaze burns across my body, awakening every nerve ending. Desire scuttles through me, settling in my core and pulsing with need.
“Couldn’t sleep.” He looks just as churlish as he did this morning. And then later this afternoon when he stormed out.
I want to ask him what that was about, but I keep the question to myself. I don’t want to push him any further away than I already have.
A tall glass of water sits on the table before him. His hands rest on his thighs as he continues holding my stare.
“Me, neither.” Needing something to occupy my hands, I turn toward the cupboard, reaching for a mug and a box of decaf tea. I would normally set a kettle on the stove to boil, but it’s late. Instead, I fill a cup with water and put it in the microwave, setting the timer for sixty seconds.
Even though I try to avoid looking at him, his body is like a magnet, and my gaze finds its way back to him. “You were gone for a while,” I say, leaning against the counter.
Breaking eye contact, he stares down at his glass. “There was business that needed to be taken care of.”
“Is it over?” My body tenses. “Has the situation with the Russians been resolved?” The thought of all this craziness coming to an end and getting some much-needed distance from Roman should thrill me.
Oddly enough, it doesn’t.
“No. Not yet. It’s become something of a delicate situation.”
Relief sweeps through me. I don’t want him to leave. Not yet. Not before whatever this is between us has a chance to get resolved.
He sucks in a breath and gradually releases it as if the weight of the world rests on his broad shoulders. There’s a weariness about him that bothers me. It makes me want to go to him and smooth out the furrowed lines on his forehead.
“I’m tired of fighting this, Sofia. I’ve tried doing the right thing.” He runs both hands over his head. “God knows I have, but I’m done. I can’t do it anymore.”
My heart stalls as I stare wide-eyed at him. I want to pinch myself to make sure I heard him correctly. That this isn’t a dream I’ll wake from in disappointment.
“Three years. That’s how long I’ve been fighting this.”
Hope tinged with caution wells up inside me. “I never asked you to stay away,” I say, my voice low and scratchy.
His stormy eyes meet mine. “I’m no good for you. I’m the last man you should get involved with. You shouldn’t even look in my direction.”
The truth spills from my lips in a rush before I can rein it in. “I haven’t been able to stop looking since I first saw you. This entire time, it’s been you.”
Frustration pours off him in thick, heavy waves as he drags a hand over his face. “This shouldn’t be happening,” he mutters to himself. “But I don’t have the strength to fight it any longer. I can’t keep walking away from you.”
The silence is shattered by a series of beeps signaling that the water has been heated, but I don’t bother with it. I’d come to the kitchen thinking I wan
ted a cup of tea, but what I need more than anything is the man sitting at my kitchen table.
I need him like air to breathe.
No longer able to bear the separation, I close the distance until he has to crane his neck to hold my gaze. His eyes turn pleading. I’ve never seen this kind of raw vulnerability shine from them. Roman shifts uncomfortably under the weight of my gaze, and it makes me fall even harder for him. I want to wrap my arms around him and never let go.
“If you’re smart,” he growls, “you’ll tell me to get the fuck out of your house and never come back again.” When I say nothing, he snaps, “Say the damn words, Sofia! Tell me to leave!”
A gurgle of laughter escapes from my lips.
Does he actually think that’s going to happen?
Doesn’t he understand that I’m powerless to send him away?
I reach out and stroke my hands through his closely cut hair. Electricity zips through me from the contact. “I can’t do that.” I won’t do it. Nothing he says or does could make me walk away from him.
He has to know that he’s asking for the impossible.
His gaze pierces mine, full of turmoil and the responsibility and desire that are continuously at war. “I can’t give you what you’re looking for or what you deserve. A few weeks. That’s it,” he rasps. “You need to understand that and accept it before this goes any further.”
I swallow the argument perched on the tip of my tongue. If Roman needs to set an expiration date on this relationship in order to give in to the desire we both feel, then so be it. I’ve spent the better part of three years wanting this man, unable to look at or think about anyone else. Whatever his terms are, I’ll accept them.
For the time being.
“Who said I wanted or needed anything more?” I lie.
His expression flattens. The look he gives me speaks to all the secret desires I’ve spun in my head. It’s as if he knows every single one of them intimately.
A myriad of conflicting emotions churn in his eyes—anger, lust, fear, remorse, and finally, acceptance.
“Don’t you understand that you deserve more than what I’m capable of giving you?” he asks with a hint of desperation.
My fingers trail from his head to his face until I’m able to cradle his bristly cheeks in my palms. “I want you. I always have. Are you going to deny me that?”
It all boils down to that one question.
Will he deny me what I want most of all?
Him.
Eyes searching mine, he shakes his head. “No. I won’t deny either of us any longer. For better or worse, this is happening. There’s no going back.”
With those ominous words, he buries his face in the hollow between my breasts and inhales. The movement warms my flesh and sends shivers careening down my spine. His fingers drop to the belt holding the robe in place around my waist. He unties the knot. The ends of the sash slip free as the silky edges of the material part to reveal my naked body. His hands go to my breasts, squeezing and cupping, palming their heavy weight. I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his strong hands on me.
The first time we had sex, that’s exactly what it felt like.
Sex.
Fucking.
A simple exchange of pleasure to sate the deep hunger within us.
This feels like so much more.
Exactly what, I have no idea, but I’m going to enjoy it for as long as it lasts.
“You’re so beautiful.” Reverence is woven throughout his thick voice.
Gently holding a breast in each hand, he uses his calloused thumbs to strum my nipples until they stiffen. He brings his mouth to one and flicks his tongue over the turgid bud. Reveling in the feel of his mouth on me, I pull him closer.
Shifting to the other, he nips at the dusky peak and sucks it deep into his mouth. A whimper escapes as pleasure unfurls deep inside me. His hands move from my breasts to my collarbone, shoving at the material until it slips down my arms and pools at my feet, leaving me completely naked.
Roman comes to his feet. One hand slides around the back of my head and guides my mouth to his. His lips devour mine, hungrily roving over them as if famished. I open, eager for his tongue to mate and dance with my own.
The hand holding my head trails down my back, caressing the curve of my hip and descending further. His fingers spread over the rounded curve of my ass and pull me flush against his body. I feel the heavy ridge of his erection pressing through his boxer briefs.
Another current of electricity sizzles through me. I’m mindless with the need to undulate against the thickness jutting out so prominently. Instead, I dip my hand inside his boxers and grip the hot length.
Roman growls. His fingers bite into the soft flesh of my bottom as he backs me into the counter. With his mouth fused to mine, he picks me up and sets me on the granite. His lips trail along the side of my jaw. My head lolls to the side as he sucks and licks his way down my neck. He caresses every inch of skin, lavishing attention on my breasts and belly until reaching the apex between my thighs.
Breathless with anticipation, I wait for him to dive in. But he surprises me by pulling back, his eyes settling on my throbbing core.
I’ve never felt more exposed in my life.
And yet…
The intense perusal doesn’t embarrass me. I would give this man anything he asked for. I would give him all of myself.
Roman slowly pushes my legs apart until I’m spread wide. My breath comes out in short gasps as he continues to look his fill. I squirm as need lances through me.
Leaning forward, he feathers his mouth over my pussy.
I moan and arch my back, inching closer.
“I’ve spent years wanting to spread you wide and play with you.” His gaze holds mine for a heartbeat and drops back to my center.
I widen my stance, opening myself up more to give him exactly what he wants.
“You have the most beautiful pussy.” Roman presses his lips against my aching lower ones. “So pink and lush.” He nibbles my delicate flesh. “Soft.” He nips my clit. “Delicate.” His tongue artfully dances over me and delves into my warmth. “Delicious.” With careful fingers, he exposes me even more. Flicking his tongue over my opening, he points the tip and thrusts it inside. “So fucking creamy.”
His thumb settles on the pulsing bundle of nerves as he works me with his tongue. Sensation swirls through me, building in my core as he drags his digit over me again and again.
“Warm and welcoming,” he mutters, his tongue rhythmically dipping in and out of me.
Needing more, I grind against his hot mouth. My body is strung impossibly tight as I hover on the brink of shattering into a million broken pieces at his hands and talented tongue.
“Come for me, princess,” he whispers, applying more pressure to my clit.
I fly over the precipice, repeatedly screaming his name as the strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced streaks through every nerve ending.
Roman continues his ministrations with long, slow licks. “There’s nothing more beautiful than hearing you scream my name.”
When the last waves of pleasure recede, I slump on the counter, drained and thoroughly satisfied.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I wake with a jolt, my eyes flying open as memories of what happened last night flood my brain.
Jackknifing up, I glance at the other side of the bed.
It’s empty.
For a confused moment, I sift through my memories, trying to decide if it was nothing more than an erotic dream or if Roman and I actually ended up in bed together.
An ache between my thighs flares to life as I shift against the sheets.
Definitely not a dream.
I exhale, disappointed yet unsurprised that Roman is no longer warming my bed.
Roman lost the battle against his attraction to me last night. His absence this morning indicates he’s still struggling with the idea of us.
Flopping back against the pillows, I rehash ev
erything that occurred. How he took me in the kitchen (note to self: scrub counter with anti-bacterial cleanser), then carried me to the bedroom where we made love and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
I have no idea when Roman got out of bed or where he went, but he couldn’t have gone far. He wouldn’t leave me unprotected. He may be angry with himself for caving, but he would never put my life in danger.
Laying there, I rack my brain, but can’t figure out his rationale for not wanting to get involved. He’s been adamant about keeping me at arm’s length until now. He’s denied that my father factors into his decision. He also said he’s not involved with another woman.
And I believe him.
What other explanation could there be for his reluctance to move forward? No matter how many times I turn the question over in my brain, I can’t come up with an answer that makes sense.
I have a better sense of who Roman is after spending the last couple of weeks with him. The armor he cloaks himself with is showing tiny cracks and dents. He’s not as unaffected as he wants me to believe.
The unrelenting attraction I feel for him is inexplicable. I’ve tried severing our connection too many times to count, but the invisible thread binding us has only grown stronger.
I’m startled out of my thoughts by the rattling of pipes as the shower in the bathroom begins to run.
Throwing off the sheet and comforter, I pad toward the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. I tentatively push open the door, my eyes honing in on the man standing under the heavy spray of water in the glass-enclosed shower. The mirror over the marble-topped vanity is already fogging from the steam rising up from the hot water.
Since his back is turned to me, I lean against the doorway and watch as he pours shampoo into his palm. His biceps bulge and flex as he massages it into his hair. My mouth salivates as he ducks under the water. My gaze runs over his muscular back, narrow waist, and firm ass. The urge to run my tongue over and sink my teeth into his taut globes pounds through me. Moving on from his backside, I find well-defined thighs dusted with dark, crinkly hair.
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