Chapter 25
AMALIE
Roman rolls in like a storm that evening. I hear him before I see him; the low murmur of voices in the entryway, Andrei saying something, the heavy click of the massive front doors closing and locking.
Roman finds me in the sitting room. Dusk has already settled and the lamps are on.
He enters, eyes blazing. He doesn’t sit. “Where is Sasha?”
“In bed.”
“Good.” A beat. “Now. Tell me about Max Russo.”
“We already talked about this.”
“We didn’t. I brought him up, you deflected. And now he’s stalking you at the goddamn mall. I’ve allowed a bit of privacy on personal life matters. But not this.”
He’s calm, but this calm is unmistakably dangerous. It’s not anger, not yet. I unexpectedly find myself wondering if he’d ever direct the anger I know he’s capable of toward me.
“He’s a detective,” I say. “Kind of a dick.”
His gaze doesn’t flinch. “That’s not the whole story.”
“We dated. It didn’t work.”
“Why?”
The question lands heavily. “People break up all the time.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be evasive with me. I remember the look in your eyes when you talked to me about him that night. And regular breakups don’t involve stalking at the mall.”
Jealousy flickers briefly in his gaze. It’s dark, sharp, and possessive. It sends a shiver through my body that’s part fear and part heat.
“He liked control.”
“Over everything,” he replies. “Including you.”
I nod once. “Yes.”
His jaw tightens. “Did he touch you?”
“Yes,” I answer. “We dated. Of course he did.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. Not like that.”
Roman exhales sharply. “What did he do, Amalie.” A demand more than a question.
Something about the way he says my name affects me far more than shouting would.
“He was cruel. About my body.” Roman freezes.
I force myself to keep going before I lose my nerve.
“Toward the end, he started saying things like how embarrassed he was to be seen with me. He told me I could be so much prettier if I just tried harder, if I lost weight. If I took up less space.” The last sentence comes out quietly.
Roman’s eyes narrow, his expression lethal.
Silence hangs heavy. For a second, I think he might leave right then, track Max down, and return with his head.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he slowly steps over to the fireplace and turns it on.
Orange flames rise with a soft whoosh, the light flickering off the walls.
He’s thinking.
Finally, after gazing at the flames for several long moments, he turns to me. “He said you were too big, too much.”
I nod, my eyes on the rug. “In so many words.”
He takes a slow, deep breath. I watch as his hands clench into fists, hold, then unclench like he’s thinking about pounding them into Max’s face.
Roman steps over to me in two long strides. He lifts my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes are burning with a quiet anger.
“No one,” he says softly, “speaks about you that way and keeps their teeth.”
My breath catches.
He gives me a once-over, his gaze softening. The anger fades, replaced with something more like reverence. “You are abundance. You are softness and fire and strength. You are exactly as you are meant to be. And you need not shrink yourself for anyone.”
I swallow hard. “Roman…”
He lifts his hands, cupping my face. “He wanted you to feel smaller so he could feel bigger.” He brushes my lower lip with his thumb. “But I want you exactly as you are.”
The moment is intense. My knees feel weak. He leans in and kisses me. It’s not gentle, not rough, but certain. His mouth claims mine with hunger and adoration. I kiss him back, gripping his suit jacket, the world narrowing to just us in the way it always does when his lips are on mine.
He presses me back against the wall, placing his palms at either side of my head. He leans in again, kissing me hard and deep, making me gasp. One of his hands leaves the wall as we kiss, landing on my hip. I moan at his touch.
“You belong here,” he says. “With me.”
His words hit me hard. Harder than I would’ve expected. I should be scared.
But I’m not.
I answer him with a kiss, my need for him growing hotter, more insistent. I place my hands on his stomach, against the hard planes of his abs. He growls softly, approval vibrating through his chest.
“Bedroom,” he says.
I don’t argue.
He wraps his arm around my waist, effortlessly lifting me off my feet and carrying me like I weigh nothing. He kisses me as he walks, and I feel myself surrendering more and more with each passing moment.
“You’re not too much,” he says. “You’re everything.”
I believe him.
Moments later, we’re crossing the threshold to his bedroom.
He carries me to the bed, setting me down like I’m as precious and valuable as those works of art in the hall.
I sit up, unable to hold back my desire for him.
I grab his shirt and yank it open, buttons flying off and scattering on the floor.
He answers my aggression with that delicious little smirk of his and pounces on me, pulling off my shirt and bra, my breasts pouring out.
He lowers himself, his mouth wrapping hot and fierce around one nipple, sucking hard, his teeth grazing the peak until I arch off the bed with a sharp, “Oh, god!”
“These are mine now,” he growls against my skin. “No one gets to shame them.”
I whimper at the sensation of his mouth on my nipples, my hands weaving into his hair and pulling him closer. He returns for long enough to kiss my mouth before descending again, kissing along my neck and my breasts and the softness of my belly.
I’ve never felt so adored, so worshiped as I do when I’m with Roman, and the feeling is frighteningly addictive.
His erection presses against me as he moves down.
When he gets to my waist, he yanks my leggings and panties off with one impatient pull.
He looks at me with pure, barely restrained hunger as he forces my knees wide, pinning my legs open with his shoulders.
There’s no hesitation, just an animalistic growl before he moves in and licks a hard, possessive stripe up my center, groaning at the taste like it’s ambrosia.
“This pussy,” he says in between kisses along my inner thighs. “Soaked already. Dripping, all for me.”
All I can do is moan his name. “Roman…”
He spreads my lips open and licks my clit with rough, slow circles.
Two fingers slide into me, the sensation intense, and I buck my hips.
He responds by placing his hand on my belly, pushing me down and holding me in place right where he wants me.
The stretch of his fingers inside is perfect, and I clench around him.
Roman doesn’t let me move. His arm is like an iron band across my lower belly, holding me in place while he works me with his fingers, the strokes deep and slow. He’s making me feel damn good, and I get the sense he’s in it not just for my pleasure, but for his own satisfaction as well.
He sucks my clit hard, and I’m practically sobbing his name.
“Look at me,” he orders. I force my eyes open. “You come when I say. Not a moment before.”
I nod frantically, unable to speak. My thighs tremble against his grip. He slows his pace, teasing, licking softer, fingers barely moving. He’s holding back, denying me in a way that I’m certain he knows is making me insane.
I’m shaking, desperate for release. “Please,” I whisper. “Roman, please.”
He surges up, bringing his mouth to mine. I taste myself on his tongue, salty and sweet all at once. His hand replaces his mouth between my legs, his thumb pressing against my clit in slow, brutal circles.
“That’s not going to do,” he says, still working me with his thumb. “If you want to come, you have to beg properly.”
I arch up again, going in for a kiss without even thinking about it. He meets my lips but pulls back. Roman wants to hear me beg.
“Please, please let me come,” I gasp. “I need it. Please.”
“Good girl.”
The praise hits me just right. He pushes three fingers into me, curling hard and going right for the G-spot.
I shatter, the orgasm ripping through me blinding hot.
My walls clamp around his fingers, my back arching as I moan into his shoulder.
Roman keeps his touch steady through it, wringing out every last drop.
The orgasm wanes and I’m left limp and shaking. Deep, full breaths come, one after another, and through blurred vision I watch as Roman slips out of the rest of his clothes. My eyes go straight to that gorgeous cock, rock hard and dripping in a way that makes me lick my lips.
“Come here, gorgeous.” He grabs me, flips me, and pulls me to the edge of the bed before I even know what’s happening.
He takes hold of my hips and pulls them up. His right hand falls between my shoulder blades, pressing me down. I look over my shoulder to watch as he wraps his other hand around the base of his cock, guiding it to my entrance.
“Are you ready for me?”
I squirm, angling myself upward for him. “Yes! Please, Roman.”
My mind goes blank the instant Roman thrusts into me in one deep stroke. The stretch burns beautifully and I cry out, my hands fisting around the sheets.
He pulls back and drives into me again, hard, my eyes tearing up from the intensity of it. He fills me perfectly, like we were made for each other. The rhythm becomes steady and punishing, hips slamming against my ass, skin slapping against skin. Every thrust jolts through me, deep and claiming.
His hand slides underneath, finding my clit once more, rubbing it roughly.
“You take me so well. Every inch.” He grips my hip hard with his other hand, just enough for that perfect mix of pain and pleasure. “This body is mine to worship.”
To my surprise, tears form in my eyes, but not from pain or the intensity of the pleasure. They’re from something I can’t even begin to name.
I push back into him, meeting every thrust, greedy for more. He leans over me, chest pressing against my back, his mouth at my ear. His strokes plunge into me, my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
“Say it.”
I don’t need to ask what he means. I know what he wants to hear.
“I’m yours,” I say. “All of me.”
He drives deeper, the pleasure so intense it consumes me.
“Come again,” he demands. “Now.”
That’s all it takes. The climax is vicious, pulling a scream from my throat. I pulse around his thickness, vision blurring. Roman follows with a curse in Russian, burying himself as he spills hot and deep inside.
We stay connected for a moment before he helps me stand and turns me toward him, touching my forehead with his, both of us taking deep, slow breaths.
He places a slow, tender kiss on my forehead. “No one diminishes you ever again,” he says. “No one will ever make you feel small.”
I turn my face, pressing against his throat as the tears form. My heart feels as if it’s cracking open.
In that moment, it’s beyond clear.
I’m falling hard for him. Fast, irrevocably.
And strangely enough, the darkness inside Roman feels like the safest place to be.