Chapter 9 Roman
ROMAN
I shouldn’t be doing this.
Kissing Isabella isn’t wise.
Not when it’s not for pretend like at the wedding.
My lips press against Isabella's with a heat I didn't expect. Her mouth is soft, yielding, and I'm lost in the sensation before I can stop myself.
I’m not a man prone to losing control, not even in the heat of passion.
And yet, as much as I know I shouldn’t be kissing this woman who betrayed us all, who could still be betraying us all, I’m unable to stop.
This physical pull toward her complicates everything. I've spent years keeping women at arm's length, focusing on Angelica and the family business.
Now Isabella's under my roof, in my life, and apparently, under my skin.
I pull back from the kiss, searching Isabella's face. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed.
The tension between us has been building for days, and now it's a living thing, electric and dangerous. I need more.
My lips crush down on hers again, more possessive and demanding this time.
Again she submits, and I’m lost. This woman who should be my enemy, who might still be my undoing, has me losing control.
I maneuver her toward my desk. I clear the surface with one sweep of my arm, sending papers fluttering to the floor. Business can wait. This can't.
I lift her onto the desk's edge, stepping between her thighs.
She arches against me, a soft sound escaping her lips.
Her sweater is soft beneath my fingers as I slide my hands up her sides, testing, exploring.
I find the warm skin of her stomach, tracing patterns there that make her shiver.
The boundaries between us are dissolving with each touch.
Enemy, wife, informant, woman, all these labels blur as I trace the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist.
I'm charting her body like undiscovered territory, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her reach for me with increasing urgency.
I press my hips forward, grinding against her through our clothes, and Isabella gasps sharply. I freeze immediately, searching her face.
The sound wasn't pleasure.
It was something else. Alarm? Fear?
"What's wrong?" I pull back slightly, giving her space. "Did I hurt you?"
She shakes her head, but her eyes won't meet mine. "No, it's not that."
"Isabella." I cup her face gently, tilting it up so she has to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
Her cheeks flush crimson, and she tries to turn away again. "It's embarrassing."
"What is?"
She bites her lip, hesitating. "I haven't… I've never…"
Understanding dawns on me. "You're a virgin?"
Isabella nods, her embarrassment plain.
Twenty-five years old and untouched.
The revelation is surprising and yet, not. Hadn’t I wondered about it before?
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I should have said something earlier."
"No, don't apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry. I was moving too fast."
The heat between us hasn't dissipated, but it's tempered now by this new understanding.
Her inexperience changes things.
This isn't just about physical release anymore. It carries weight, significance.
“I… was just surprised. That’s all.”
I study her. Until I ground my cock against her, she was with me, kissing me back, letting me touch her. For a moment, she wanted me.
I take Isabella's hand in mine, my thumb tracing circles on her palm. “You enjoyed part of it, though, right? The kiss. My touch.”
She looks down at our joined hands, a flush creeping up her neck. "Yes.”
Something tightens in my chest. I've been with women since Emilia died, but nothing serious, nothing that made me feel this strange mixture of desire and protectiveness.
It’s crazy because I don’t trust her. Sure, she showed me her evidence against the family, but she hasn’t told me about the phone I saw the woman slip to her today.
And I doubt she trusts me either, yet here we are, giving in to an attraction that is dangerous for us both.
“Have you ever touched yourself in pleasure?” I ask, knowing I’ll regret indulging in this attraction.
She bites her lip, that flush turning even more scarlet. “No.”
I brush my knuckles against Isabella's cheek, watching her eyes flutter closed at my touch. "There are ways I can help you experience pleasure without rushing into everything at once.” I’m playing with fire, knowing I’m going to be burned. But damned if I’m going to stop.
"How?" she asks, innocent curiosity mixed with unmistakable desire.
"Let me show you.”
She looks up at me with wide eyes that make something primitive stir inside me.
"I'm going to touch you," I explain, maintaining eye contact. "Just with my hands. And if you want me to stop at any point, you tell me.”
She nods.
I lean in to kiss her again, slowly this time, savoring the softness of her lips as my hand slides beneath her sweater to caress her warm skin.
She sighs into my mouth, her body arching slightly toward my touch.
She may have never been touched, but her body responds without hesitation.
My fingers trace patterns across her skin, gradually moving higher, then lower, mapping her responses.
I brush my fingers over her tits, gently pinch her nipples.
“Oh!” She gasps, and her fingers dig into my shoulders.
“You okay?”
“Yes… ah… that was—”
I rub my palm over her nipple, and a moan escapes her mouth. “Good, right?”
“Yes.” Her head drops back, exposing her lovely neck. I take advantage, kissing her there as I knead her tits, moving down until I suck her nipple through the lacy fabric of her bra.
Her body rocks, telling me she feels it to her pussy. Inwardly I groan, wishing I could sink into it but knowing I can’t. Not this time.
I undo the button and zipper of her jeans and slip my hand beneath the waistband of her jeans. She tenses momentarily.
"Okay?" I pause.
Isabella nods, biting her lower lip. She’s unsure, but at the same time, she wants this.
I continue my exploration, watching her face intently as I slide my finger between her folds. Her pussy is wet and my dick is eager to drive inside.
I gently massage her swollen clit.
“Oh!” Her breathing changes, how her hands clutch at my shoulders.
“Feel good?” I continue to make slow circles over her clit.
“Yes. Oh…”
I slide my finger lower, teasing her entrance.
“Roman…”
Hearing my name on her lips sends heat coursing through me, but I do my damnedest to ignore it.
"That's it," I encourage softly as she begins to tremble. My finger penetrates, her pussy gripping around it making my dick jealous. I withdraw, adding a second finger, pushing inside her.
I finger fuck her, watching as her pleasure builds and builds. It’s amazing how this guarded, brave, yet innocent woman is surrendering to me.
I tilt my fingers and use my thumb to brush over her clit.
“Oh, God!” She breaks, crying out as pleasure washes over her. I'm transfixed by the beauty of her release, the vulnerability she's showing me. This woman has every reason to fear me, and yet she’s given herself over to me. It feels like a gift I haven't earned.
As she comes back to herself, eyes opening to meet mine, I realize I'm perfectly content having given without taking.
Not that my dick doesn’t want a turn, but I don’t need it.
Something shifts in my chest, a feeling I haven't experienced since Emilia. It's dangerous, this softening toward Isabella, but watching her discover pleasure at my hands feels right in a way I can't explain.
“Are you okay?”
She nods, her embarrassment returning. “I… ah…”
“You’re beautiful when you come.” I hope the words will put her at ease. “Did you enjoy it?”
Her lips twitch upward. “Yes. But I…” She glances down at my dick, which twitches thinking it’s his turn. “What do I do to… you know…”
“You don’t need to do anything. This was about you.”
“But you haven’t—”
“My dick will survive.” I help her put her clothes right.
Her hair is tousled from where my fingers tangled in it, her lips still pink from my kisses.
The sight of her like this, disheveled by pleasure I gave her, makes me want to take her to my bed and not come up for air until I’ve pumped every last bit of cum I have into her.
“But I want to know how to touch you.”
“Perhaps another time, I can teach you more. Right now, you should get some rest,” I say before I follow through.
"Roman, I—"
"We'll talk tomorrow," I say gently, cutting off whatever she's about to say. "Go on. Get some sleep."
After a moment's hesitation, she leans in and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. The gesture is unexpectedly tender, catching me off guard. Then she's gone.
I wait until I hear the bedroom door close before I move to the bar cabinet in the corner. The whiskey burns pleasantly as I pour a double and return to my desk.
I pick up my fallen papers and then drop heavily into my chair.
What the hell am I doing?
This woman is supposed to be a mission, not a lover. I'm meant to be investigating her, possibly eliminating her if necessary.
Instead, I just spent the evening teaching her about pleasure, watching her come apart under my touch.
I take another swallow of whiskey, welcoming the burn.
Isabella is innocent in ways I didn't expect. Virgin or not, there's a genuine quality to her that makes me question whether she's really capable of the betrayal she's been accused of.
What if she's being manipulated? Used as a pawn by someone with an agenda against La Corona?
The protective instinct that usually reserves itself for Angelica now extends to include Isabella.
I need to find her FBI contact.
This Blackwood character.
Something about this whole situation stinks, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it, not just for Marco or the family but for Isabella.
My mind drifts back to the fabric store. I'd taken Isabella there partly to help her settle in with me. She needed supplies for her designs, and I figured giving her that small freedom might help build trust between us.
I remember watching her face light up as she browsed through bolts of silk and cotton, her fingers tracing patterns only she could see.