15. Cassie
CASSIE
T he silence stretched between us as we made our way upstairs, heavy with everything unsaid.
Roman’s confession about Declan still echoed in my mind, but it was the vulnerability I’d glimpsed in his eyes that made my chest ache.
This man, who commanded empires and bent the world to his will, had looked lost for a moment. Betrayed. Human.
He paused at my bedroom door, his hand resting on the frame. The hallway felt charged with electricity, dangerous to cross.
"Cassie," he started, then stopped. His jaw worked like he was fighting some internal battle.
"Roman." I turned to face him fully, taking in the way his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, the careful way he held himself to protect his healing ribs. "You don’t have to carry everything alone."
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. "You don’t know what you’re saying."
"Yes, I do." I stepped closer, close enough to smell his cologne mixed with the lingering antiseptic from his bandages. "I’m saying I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere."
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb tracing along my jawline with devastating gentleness. "You should. Go somewhere. This world?—"
"Is my world now, too." I caught his wrist, holding his hand against my cheek. "We’re in this together, remember?"
For a moment, we just stood there in the dimly lit hallway, breathing the same air, existing in a bubble where betrayal and violence couldn’t reach us. Then, something in his eyes darkened with need, and I felt my pulse spike in response.
"Cassie," he whispered, my name a prayer on his lips.
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I rose on my toes and pressed my mouth to his, soft and questioning. He kissed me back with careful reverence, like I was something precious he was afraid of breaking.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I caught his hand and led him into my room.
The moonlight streaming through the windows painted everything in silver as we moved toward each other with careful deliberation.
This wasn’t the desperate claiming from his office or the urgent need against his armory wall.
This was something else, tender and aching, and shot through with an intimacy that terrified me.
Roman’s fingers found the zipper of my dress, sliding it down with reverent slowness.
The silk pooled at my feet like water, and I shivered as his hands skimmed over my bare skin.
But when I reached for his shirt, my movements were equally gentle, mindful of his injuries, of the bandages wrapped around his ribs.
We undressed each other piece by piece, every revelation a question neither of us dared to voice. When his shirt finally hit the floor, I traced the edges of his bandages with my fingertips, pressing soft kisses to the unmarked skin around them.
"I could’ve lost you," I whispered against his chest, and felt him shudder.
His hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head back until our eyes met. "But you didn’t."
We moved to the bed, the energy between us was different, calmer somehow, but just as passionate and insistent.
We weren’t in the throes of adrenaline and discovery this time.
There was no distracting each other from the consequences of tonight’s events.
We had nowhere to hide from what this could become.
Roman laid on his back, and I climbed on top of him, mindful of his injuries. The thick length of him pressed against the slick heat between my legs, making us both shiver. Then I was rolling my hips, guiding him inside me with delicious pressure that made his breath catch.
He cupped my face with one hand, blue eyes searching mine, but I slid up his length, building a rhythm that told him I needed more. This was happening. I wanted it. And I was tired of being afraid.
Fingers splayed across my cheeks, he guided me down and caught my lips in a kiss so thorough and dominating it spoke his words for him. This isn’t about ownership anymore, it said. You’re mine, and I’m yours. I’m tired of pretending this isn’t real.
Together we set a faster pace, skin to skin, hearts beating in tandem as pleasure flooded my body. The feel of him deep inside me, thick and solid, felt like a homecoming.
I rode him harder, feeling my orgasm building. The pleasure intensified in my body, wrapping around the emotional truth buried under the surface. My fingernails dug into his chest, heels digging into the mattress for purchase, as I rode him like my life depended on it.
And maybe it did.
But then we slowed down, settling into a pace that demanded an intimacy I hadn’t prepared for.
Every stroke of his cock reached deep inside my soul.
Every curl of his fingers against my clit was an emotional release I had no defenses against. When I opened my eyes to look down into his face, every wall I’d ever built came tumbling down, leaving my heart wide open and vulnerable.
This wasn’t fucking anymore. He was making love to me, soft and aching. His hands felt my body as if trying to memorize each line and curve, his mouth trailing my skin as if I were his salvation.
I could feel my pleasure mounting and mounting, everything in me rising and coming closer, always closer. So close, until he rolled his hips and bumped into a spot so deep inside of me I cried out.
Every nerve in my body was electrified and pulsing. I moaned his name, and he bucked his hips, driving himself further inside of me and making a whine escape my throat. Roman grunted and drove himself harder, with more purpose, and directed those tiny strokes right where I needed him.
Just when the heat flared higher, just when it felt like all I could do was hold on and enjoy the ride, my core tightened and then burst apart as ecstasy consumed my whole being.
"Oh, oh," I moaned, my body shattering, my nails digging into his chest, making him grunt with something a little less than pain and a little more than pleasure.
"Ah!" My core pulsated around him, and I writhed, then slumped over him as my body lost all energy.
All too soon, the force of his thrusts turned chaotic, and then froze, and with a final deep stroke, he poured his seed inside me, holding my hips in place, stretching the moment for eternity.
"Cassie," he gasped and let go, his head thumping on the pillow.
Slowly, my muscles relaxed, and my heartbeat slowed. I realized my forehead was resting against his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat echoing my own.
I moved up and was relieved to find a contented expression on his face. To my surprise, he smiled, his teeth all bright white in the moonlight.
I traced the scar beneath his lip and returned his smile. Roman’s eyes were intense, watching my every move. He still hadn’t softened within me, and I was surprised to find an ache from where his hips lay beneath mine.
It felt good, intimate, like maybe it could be this easy after all.
Without saying a word, he shifted us onto our sides. I could feel him softening now, but he didn’t seem eager to leave the confines of my body.
We lay tangled in the sheets, our breathing slowly syncing in the darkness.
Roman’s arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me against his chest with possessive tenderness.
I could feel his heart beating against my back, steady and strong, and for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I felt safe.
"Roman?" I whispered into the darkness.
"Mmm?"
"Whatever happens tomorrow—with Declan, with the family—we face it together."
His arm tightened around me. "Together," he agreed, his voice rough with emotion.
I closed my eyes and tried to lose myself in the warmth of his body, in the rise and fall of his chest against my spine. But as the minutes ticked by and his breathing evened out into sleep, my mind raced.
My hand drifted unconsciously to my lower stomach, pressing against the flat plane of my abdomen. Lying in the darkness with his seed still warm inside me, the truth I’d been avoiding crashed over me like ice water.
I might be pregnant.
The thought made my stomach lurch.
No. Not now.
Dread coiled in my throat like a living thing. A baby. Roman’s baby. The heir to a criminal empire, born into a world where betrayal meant death and love was a luxury no one could afford.
I pressed my hand harder against my stomach, as if I could somehow confirm or deny what my body was telling me. But the signs were all there, and they refused to be ignored.
Fuck.
Roman stirred beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. "You okay?" he mumbled against my hair, voice thick with sleep.
"Fine," I whispered, though I was anything but fine. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit," he said, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder. "Get some sleep, sweetheart. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and tried to force my body to relax. But sleep felt impossible. How could I sleep when the danger and the stakes had gotten infinitely higher?
The thought of Roman learning about the possible pregnancy, of seeing the way his face would change when he realized what this meant for both of us, made my chest tight with panic.
He’d become even more protective, more controlling.
He’d wrap me in bubble wrap and lock me in a tower if he thought it would keep me safe.
Or worse—he’d see it as another problem to be solved, another liability to be managed.
I needed to reschedule the appointment with my doctor, to confirm what I already knew in my bones, to finally make a plan, and to find a way to sneak past security.
I lay there for what felt like hours, listening to Roman’s steady breathing, trying to figure out my next move.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed two, then three, then four.
But sleep remained elusive, chased away by the growing certainty that my life had just become infinitely more complicated.
And somewhere in the darkness, I made a decision.
I couldn’t tell Roman. Not yet. Not until I understood what I wanted, what kind of future I could offer a child born into this world.
But I needed answers. And I needed them soon.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, there was no going back from this. If I really was carrying Roman Creed’s child, then I wasn’t just surviving his world anymore.
I was bringing new life into it.