Ruthless Reign: A Dark Mafia Forbidden Romance (Tarnished Reign Book 1)

Chapter 40

I wakeup to the sound of … nothing. Not the usual roar of Moscow traffic, not the distant sirens or the city buzz. Just peace and quiet, and the steady rise and fall of Roman’s chest with every gentle breath he takes.

I take advantage of the moment to drink him in. His hard features are softened by sleep, his dark hair falls across his forehead, and he looks younger than his thirty-eight years.

Lord, staring at him like this is a mistake because it brings out all the wrong feelings. Desire is one thing, but the tenderness invading my chest is dangerous. He’s stirring something inside of me that I can”t afford to let loose—not with the tightrope I”m walking in my life right now.

Two days have passed in a blur of domestic bliss. We wake up late, have sex, eat, have more sex, and then attempt to be normal humans who do other things besides having sex. We’ve enjoyed saunas together, taking a break when we get too hot to roll around in the snow before going back inside. He’s taught me how to play Gin Rummy, and I’ve managed to beat him twice. He built a campfire outside, and we bundled up, curled together to watch the night stars. I’ve taught him how to whistle and introduced him to the joys of 90s rom-coms. I know we can’t hide away here forever, but I desperately want to.

As if Roman can sense my inner turmoil, he opens his eyes and gives me a knowing smile. “Good morning, milaya.”

His muscular arm wraps around me, and he hauls me into his chest, sliding a hand beneath the hem of my sleep shirt to give my bare ass a squeeze.

“Good morning to you too.” I chuckle.

“Why’d you bother to put on clothes?” he murmurs into my hair. “You know I’m just going to take them right off.”

I sigh. “I planned on waking up early and making you breakfast. Guess that didn’t happen.”

Truth be told, I also wanted to check on my recent trades, but I couldn”t force myself out of bed this morning. Not when Roman’s in it, pressed against me, his hands and smell everywhere.

“You needed the sleep. I kept you plenty busy last night.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “I thought you didn’t know how to cook.”

“Breakfast hardly counts as cooking. I can manage scrambled eggs and toast. Maybe I’ll even take cooking lessons someday.”

He caresses my cheek and whispers in my ear, “I’ll teach you.”

His words kindle a flicker of hope in my heart, tempting me to believe, even just for a second, that we could have something real. But I know better.

We won’t spend lazy weekends together, him teaching me to cook, or cozy nights watching movies by the fireplace. In the end, he”ll be just a bittersweet memory of what could have been if my life was different.

Roman”s breath grows ragged as he tightens his arms around my waist and grinds his erection firmly against my stomach. His grip tightens as he kisses me fiercely. Deeply. Relentlessly.

I weave my fingers through his hair and glide them down his neck, eliciting a deep, masculine groan from him. That sound, so potent and raw, is something I want to hear again and again.

“Are you sore?” he asks in a rough whisper.

I bite my lip. “But I still want it.”

“Good girl,” he growls, and my stomach dips with need. “How about you get on top so you’re the one in control. Take as much or as little of me as you need.”

I nod and rise up, peeling the T-shirt off over my head and throwing it into the corner of the room. His eyes, hungry and intense, follow the contours of my body as I straddle him. His palms trace my thighs, bringing me tightly against his erection.

We haven’t been using condoms, and I don’t want to start now. Maybe I’ve lost my mind, but I trust him when he says he’s clean, that I’m the only woman he’s gone bare with.

His pupils dilate within those deep brown irises as he grips my hips, drawing me tightly against his length. My legs spread wider on either side of him as I lean in and close the distance left between us.

“Are you going to let me be in control?” I press both of my hands into his solid inked chest.

Roman’s eyes widen in surprise before a broad smile overtakes his face. “Go ahead. I’m going to sit back and enjoy the ride. This is your show.” To make his point, he bends his elbows, folding his arms, and rests his head in his hands.

Exhaling, I sink down inch by inch. I stop about halfway and have to breathe through the stretch. This man is thick. I moan softly and close my eyes, but after a few minutes, my body softens and the bite of pain turns into pleasure.

Opening my eyes, I find him gazing back at me so tenderly that it causes an ache in my chest, but I can’t go there with him. Instead, I offer something else. A show.

He leans back, eyes half-lidded and a lazy smirk on his lips, while I roll my hips in circles and grab my breasts, pinching my nipples as he swells inside of me.

“How’s the show so far?” With an agonized sigh, I lift my hips so I can sink deeper onto his shaft. He groans when I’m fully seated.

”Never seen anything better.” His voice is rough with need. ”I could do this with you forever, and it still wouldn”t be long enough.”

I know those words should have me running for the hills, but I can’t find it in me to correct him. To remind him that I’m not his for the taking and never will be.

“You’re the only one I want,” I gasp.

Fuck, that’s not what I meant to say, but the words tumbled out, lost in the rush of ecstasy as I work myself up and down on his cock and his fingers dance over my clit.

When I open my eyes and meet his, they’re shining with something I can’t put my finger on. “Same, milaya. Same.”

Roman pulls me against him and buries his face in my neck as we both unravel at the same time. He feels so warm and strong that, for just a moment, I allow myself to sink into his arms and pretend that this could be my forever.

We both lie there for a few minutes, recovering. It’s not just the physical exertion but everything else it stirred up inside of me.

He repositions himself against the headboard, then lifts me onto his lap and holds me snugly against his chest.

I can’t help but trail my fingertips down his arms. A tattoo of an oak tree on his bicep catches my attention. “What’s this for?” I ask.

The artwork is intricate, with roots that seem to dig deep into his skin and branches that reach for unseen skies. Beneath the tree, the ground is shaded with darker ink.

Roman”s face shadows, the lines around his eyes tightening. “This tree is on the property here.” He pauses, his voice dropping. “I planted it with my mother when I was a kid.”

“Take me to see it,” I whisper.

“I will. One day.”

I’d rather not dwell on the fact that there’s no ‘one day’ in our future. Time is running out. Even though I’m still short of what I need to pay back Anatoly, the wedding is in a few days and I’ll have to get home to face the music—one way or another. I’m doing everything in my power to make sure I come home with a big, fat check and a ‘see you never’ goodbye wave to Anatoly.

The conversation about leaving can wait until tomorrow. Today, I’m going to soak up all the happiness I can.

I press soft kisses against the sensitive flesh of his neck until a shiver rolls through his body. “So, what is there to do around here?”

“You keep on kissing me like this, and it won’t matter what there is to do around here because there”s only one thing we’ll be doing.”

I roll my eyes but can’t keep the smile from my face. My eyes travel down his naked torso, and he leans back, letting me drink him in. He’s not even subtle about it.

“Have you tried snowshoeing before?” He gives my thigh an appreciative squeeze.

“God, no. But I have a feeling that today will be my first time.”

He winks. “So many firsts with me. I’m honored.”

If he only knew—this is the first time my heart has thawed in so long.

I thoughtit was impossible to be bad at snowshoeing, but apparently, I was wrong.

When Roman suggested an outdoor activity this morning, I thought he was kidding. But no, he’s a big fan of snow and, for some unknown reason, likes to clomp around in what looks like tennis rackets tied to his feet. He swore it was as easy as riding a bike, that everyone gets the hang of it—except me.

I’m lying on my back, starfished out in the snow after my fifth fall, and I don’t have it in me to get up.

A shadow moves above me, but I keep my eyes closed, hoping he’ll move on and leave me to my snowy grave.

“Need a hand, milaya?”

I pop open an eyelid. “Nope. I’m staying right here.”

He smiles, and my heart stops for a moment. With the bright winter sun shining behind him—his thick, tousled hair peeking out beneath his hat, and the laugh lines crinkling around his eyes—he’s the most devastatingly sexy man I’ve ever seen.

“If you’re staying, I’m staying.” He drops down next to me, tossing his snowshoes aside, and joins me on the snow-covered ground. “Good thing I got us waterproof snow gear.”

I giggle. “Good thing.”

Our eyes lock, and I can’t tear myself away. Not when so much is conveyed in a single glance. I don’t know what to call it, but I recognize it in my soul.

I have to break our gaze so I can catch my breath. “Why is snowshoeing so much harder than it looks?” I moan to keep the mood light.

“Is it though? Because I haven’t fallen once.”

“Asshole,” I mutter.

His response is to pull me on top of him. We roll over a few times, him laughing and me squealing.

When he finally stops our roll, he buries his face in my neck. “You’ve got great rolling skills, though.”

“Thanks. Such a high compliment.” I’m still snuggled into his chest, watching his breath escape in small puffs. The stark branches of green pines tower over us. “I didn’t take you as the outdoorsy type,” I tell him.

“It’s because you’ve only seen me in Moscow. When my mother and I would come up here during the summers or for winter holiday, she’d force me to play outside, probably to burn off my endless energy.”

I smile, imagining a young Roman throwing snowballs and making forts. I hope it was a happy time for him. At least when he was alone with his mother.

“What about you? Did you grow up playing sports?” he asks.

A rough laugh breaks free from my chest. “Not exactly. My mother thinks a stroll in the park is braving the wilderness.” I can”t conceal the bitterness in my tone. “My mother didn”t really care what we did, to be honest.”

“Then why do you care about her? It seems you’ve lived life to make your family happy. When do you get to put yourself first?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. I hoped we”d never have to talk about my family history, but I don’t think there’s any way to avoid it. “It was the only way I knew to keep the peace when I was growing up,” I say softly. I don”t look his way but sense him hanging on my every word. “As I”m sure you know, the Ivanovs used to be a rich and well-connected family—the only reason, as far as I can tell, why my mother married my father. My father never worked a day in his life. But when you”re a bored-as-shit alcoholic, you tend to hang out with the wrong crowd. When he drank, which was often, he’d also gamble. Badly, I might add. The more money my father lost, the more my parents fought. So I learned to be the perfect daughter, the good girl who never caused any trouble or demanded attention, keeping my head down and my grades up. I guess I got stuck in that role.”

Something strange passes through his gaze, like a dark storm cloud. He”s angry on my behalf, but I”m not done with my story. I want him to understand why I”ve made the decision I have.

“After Sofiya was born, nothing else mattered to me. I finally had someone deserving of my love and affection. For the first time in my life, I felt truly loved back. I stepped in to be the parent to Sofiya that our actual parents could never be. Even now, everything I do is for her. To keep her safe and happy, to make sure her future is different from mine. That she can make her own way in this world, free to do whatever she pleases, not dependent on any man.”

“Fuck, baby, you took on all that?” Roman is on his elbows, propped over me, his expression tense and serious. “And that’s why you’re marrying a man you hate?”

I stiffen, my face heating with shame as he looks at me with a gaze that feels like it”s drilling into my soul.

“I bet my mother’s losing her shit right now,” I say, an obvious attempt to change the subject. “Both she and Anatoly are probably blowing up Maxim”s cell phone. He won”t know what the fuck’s going on when he picks up his messages.”

Both my parents and Anatoly have called me repeatedly, leaving messages I don’t listen to. I have nothing to say to either of them. They think I”m in hiding—that should be reason enough for me to not be in touch.

Roman chuckles. “Don’t worry. I let him know what’s going on. It’s never a good idea to leave Maxim Belov in the dark.”

Guilt works through me knowing that Kira and Maxim are coming home in a few days, specifically for my wedding—a wedding I hope never happens, but I”m still fifty thousand dollars short of the million I need. After breakfast, while Roman was taking care of some work, I snuck away to keep up with all the trades.

I know in my heart that Roman would give me the money I need, but that would mean revealing everything. And then what? Would he break the deal with the Petroviches to protect me? Would he go to war for me?

Roman is bratva, first and foremost. When he took his oath, it was to Maxim and his syndicate. That”s where his loyalties lie, not with me.

Roman sits up and stretches, then offers me his hand. “I’m freezing, and you must be too. We should go inside and warm up in front of a fire.”

We’re both quiet as we trudge back to the house.

“It’s nice here.” I look around. “I mean the property. It’s peaceful. I’m glad you didn’t sell it.” I know I’ve said the wrong thing when his lips curve downward and a shadow passes over his features. “I know it’s not all happy memories,” I’m quick to clarify. “But I hope we’re making a few new ones.”

“With you here, I can almost forget about all the bad things.” The pad of his finger trails over my cheek.

I can’t breathe when he says these things to me.

“You’ve gone awfully quiet,” Roman murmurs.

“Just cold.” I rub my hands together and give him a smile.

He wraps an arm around my neck and pulls me into him. His voice is thick with promise when he whispers in my ear, “Then let me warm you up.”

He lowers his head and drops small, drugging kisses along my jaw. He knows it’s my weak spot. My insides melt, and my brain turns to mush when he runs his tongue along my jawline and starts talking dirty, telling me every nasty thing he’s going to do to me.

Just as I’m ready to strip right here, freezing temperature be damned, a buzz in his pocket interrupts us.

He groans and apologizes as he pulls out his cell from the inner pocket of his jacket. Whatever he reads causes him to frown.

“Something important?” I ask.

“I wish it wasn’t. All I want to do is eat out that gorgeous pussy of yours and then fuck you into the mattress. But first…” He holds his phone up.

I’m not sure what comes over me when I pull him towards me and whisper against his lips, “I’m going to get naked and wait for you in bed. Don’t take too long. I’m already desperate for you.”

He lowers my hand onto his crotch, and even through his many layers, I can feel his very pronounced hard-on. “Damn woman. Now I have to get on a business call hard as nails.”

I laugh and pull my hand away because if I don’t practice some self-restraint, this phone call won’t be happening.

“Go.” My voice is thick with need. “I’ll be waiting for you.”