Chapter 38
ROMAN
She is kissing me and I’m not managing anything.
I pull her closer.
She comes without hesitation, her hand sliding from my jaw to the back of my neck.
I feel the warmth of her against me and I think about eleven mornings of chamomile and a room in New Jersey and a man who told me it’s done and all the months before all of that.
I think about a masquerade ball and a woman who gave me a name that was not quite her name and sat outside my office for two years with something I didn’t see because I wasn’t looking for it.
I wasn’t looking for it.
I pull back just far enough to look at her face.
Her eyes open. Dark, close, looking at me with the full attention she brings to everything that matters to her. I look back at her and I say, “Come with me.”
She nods and I stand up and take her hand and we walk down the corridor together and the penthouse holds us both in its quiet and neither of us says anything because nothing needs to be said.
I lead her down the corridor and into my bedroom. She notices it is my room. I see the small flicker in her eyes, but she says nothing, and neither do I. I take her hand and guide her through to the en-suite bathroom.
The shower is large, tiled in dark stone. I turn the water on and adjust the temperature until it is warm but not hot. Steam begins to rise as I step back to her.
I undress her slowly. My fingers find the hem of her shirt and lift it upward. She raises her arms and lets me pull it off. I unhook her bra and slide the straps down her shoulders.
Her breasts spill free, fuller now, heavier with the pregnancy.
I run my palms over them lightly, feeling their warmth and weight.
Then I kneel and ease her pants and underwear down her legs.
When she steps out of them, I rise again and look at the gentle swell of her belly, the soft curve that carries our twins.
I brush my thumb across it once, slowly.
She watches me the entire time, completely present, no part of herself held back.
I undress quickly and take her hand again. We step into the shower together. Warm water falls over us in a steady cascade, soaking our hair and running down our skin. Steam fills the space, softening every edge.
I turn her gently so her back is to my chest. I reach for the shampoo, pour some into my palm, and work it into her hair.
My fingers move slowly through the strands, massaging her scalp with careful circles. She leans back into me with a quiet sigh as the water rinses the suds away. I do it again, slower this time, letting my hands linger.
When her hair is clean, I turn her to face me.
Water streams between us. I cup her face and kiss her, deep and unhurried.
My hands slide down her body, tracing the curve of her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts, the slight bump low on her abdomen.
I kiss her there too, lips brushing the soft skin where our children grow.
I turn her again so she faces the tiled wall.
She braces her hands against the cool stone.
I step close behind her, one arm wrapped around her just below her breasts to hold her steady, the other hand guiding myself.
I enter her slowly, inch by inch, until I am fully seated inside her.
The water continues to fall over us, warm and constant.
I move with slow, deep strokes. There is no rush.
Only the sound of water hitting skin and tile, our quiet breathing, and the slick slide of our bodies.
I keep one hand low on her belly, protective and gentle, feeling the faint curve there as I thrust. She pushes back to meet me, her body soft and open.
After a while, I turn her again to face me.
I lift one of her legs, hooking it over my hip, and slide back inside her.
We are chest to chest now, foreheads almost touching.
Water cascades down her face and over her breasts as I move inside her.
Her eyes stay on mine, dark and certain.
When she whispers my name, it is soft and easy.
“Roman.”
It lands somewhere deep in my chest, the same way she said it on the terrace that night, but different now.
The pleasure builds slowly, steadily. I feel her tighten around me, her breath catching. I keep the rhythm deep and even until she comes with a quiet shudder, her forehead pressed to my shoulder.
The feeling pulls me over with her. I bury myself deep and stay there as release moves through me in long, quiet waves.
We stay joined under the falling water for several long moments.
I hold her steady, one arm wrapped around her ribs, the other resting protectively low on her soft belly.
The warm water continues to cascade over us, soothing and constant.
Her breathing is still ragged against my neck.
I press a slow kiss to her wet shoulder and feel her shiver.
Finally, I ease out of her with a quiet groan. She makes a small sound of protest at the loss, and I smile against her skin.
I turn off the water. Steam fills the bathroom like a soft veil. I step out first, grab a large, thick towel, and wrap it around her shoulders before drying myself quickly.
Instead of carrying her immediately, I pull her close again, right there on the cool tile floor.
Our bodies are still damp. I cup her face and kiss her deeply, tasting the water on her lips.
She kisses me back with renewed hunger, her arms sliding around my neck, her wet breasts pressing against my chest.
We barely make it out of the bathroom.
We stumble toward the bed, mouths fused, hands roaming. I back her up until her legs hit the edge of the mattress.
She laughs softly into the kiss. It’s a bright, happy sound that makes something tight in my chest loosen even more. I lift her onto the bed and follow her down, covering her body with mine.
This time there is no slow patience.
I kiss down her neck, then lower, taking one full breast into my mouth and sucking hard enough to make her back arch.
Her hands fist in my damp hair. I move to the other breast, biting gently at the sensitive nipple before soothing it with my tongue. She’s already wet again, hips lifting restlessly against me.
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them, stroking that spot I know so well. She moans my name, low and needy. When she starts to tremble, I replace my fingers with my cock, thrusting into her in one smooth, deep stroke.
This round is harder, faster. I fuck her with long, powerful strokes, the wet sound of our bodies filling the room. Her legs wrap tightly around my waist, heels digging into my back, urging me deeper.
I brace one hand beside her head and reach between us with the other, rubbing tight circles over her clit.
“Come for me again,” I murmur against her ear.
She comes harder this time, her walls clamping down around me as she cries out.
The feeling drags me over the edge right after her. I bury myself as deep as I can and come with a low groan, pulsing inside her in hot, heavy waves.
We collapse together, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat and leftover shower water. I roll us so she’s lying on top of me, her head on my chest. My arm wraps around her back, holding her close. Her breathing slowly evens out, deepening and becoming steady.
She falls asleep before I do.
I can tell by the change in her breathing, the way it slows and deepens, the slight heaviness of her against my side, that she has stopped holding anything up.
Her hand is resting on my chest, and I look at it in the dark, the plain gold band on her left hand catching what little light comes through the curtains from the city below, and I lie still, and I let her sleep.
I have spent thirty years building something.
Every decision I have made, every room I have walked into, every man I have trusted and every man I have not, every piece of the structure I inherited and the larger structure I built on top of it, all of it has been constructed by a man who told himself he was building for its own sake because there was no other reason that made sense to him.
I look at the ring on her hand.
I look at the ceiling.
Somewhere in this woman’s body, two children are growing that are going to come into a world I have spent thirty years making dangerous, and I’m going to spend whatever comes after making it safe enough for them to exist in, which is a different project entirely from anything I have undertaken before.
I am aware, lying here in the dark with Elena’s hand on my chest and her breathing slow and her weight against my side, that I am not afraid of that project.