Chapter 31 #2
God knows how badly I wanted him. After everything that happened, my body craved Roman's touch day and night.
But we couldn't—Roman's body had just recovered. He'd been in a hospital bed a week ago.
"Every day watching you walk around me, wearing my shirts, coming out of the bathroom with wet hair, bending over so the collar slips down—I could only fucking watch."
Roman's lips pressed against my ear. His tongue traced the shell, hot breath drilling into my ear canal, making me shiver from ear to toe.
"I don't want to wait anymore."
That voice was cheating. Roman pressed closer, his thick length pushing against my thigh. I could feel his body heat through the fabric, burning hot, radiating that scent I both hated and craved.
"Watch my belly." I turned my head, mumbling shyly.
His hand slid down, gentle as I'd ever felt him, finding the edge of my underwear and pulling it aside. His fingers slipped through my wetness, slow and careful, like he was savoring every second.
"You're soaked," he murmured against my neck, voice rough. "Been thinking about this too?"
I couldn't answer. My breath caught as he positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He moved with excruciating slowness, pushing in inch by inch, letting me feel every bit of him filling me.
"Fuck, Leah." His forehead dropped to my shoulder, breath ragged. "You feel so good."
He kept one hand on my hip, thumb stroking gentle circles, the other braced beside my head. His movements were measured, careful not to put weight on my belly, each thrust deliberate and deep.
The care he took only made it more intense. Every slow drag of him inside me built the heat higher. My hands found his back, nails digging in as he hit that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
"Roman." His name broke on my lips.
He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and I gasped. His mouth found mine, swallowing the sound, tongue pushing past my lips in the same rhythm as his hips.
Then his control slipped—just for a second. A low grunt escaped him, almost pained, and his hips jerked forward harder than he meant to.
I felt it—the way his body tensed, the tremor in his arms.
"Roman, wait, your injury—" I pushed at his chest.
His eyes opened, dark and unfocused. "Did I hurt you?"
"No." I bit my lip. "But you're going to hurt yourself. Let me."
I pushed him onto his back before he could argue. His cock slipped out and I immediately missed the fullness, but I straddled his hips, taking control. His hands went to my waist, steadying me as I positioned myself above him.
"Leah, you don't have to—"
I sank down on him in one smooth motion, cutting off his protest. His head dropped back against the pillow, throat working as he groaned.
This was better. I could control the pace, the depth, could watch his face as I moved. His grip on my hips tightened as I rolled against him, taking him deep, then lifting until just the tip stayed inside before dropping back down.
"Fuck." His jaw clenched, eyes squeezing shut.
I braced my hands on his chest, feeling his heart pounding under my palms. The angle hit perfectly, each movement sending sparks through me. My thighs burned but I couldn't stop, chasing that edge I could feel building.
Roman's eyes opened, locked on mine. His thumb found where we were joined, circling, and I shattered—clenching around him as pleasure rolled through me in waves.
"Leah." His voice was wrecked. "I can't—"
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me down against his chest as his control finally snapped. His hips drove up hard—once, twice, three times—each thrust punching a gasp from my lungs. Then he buried himself deep with a guttural groan, cock pulsing inside me as he came.
We stayed like that, both of us shaking, my face pressed to his neck as we tried to catch our breath. His hand came up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.
I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes were soft now, satisfied, a lazy smile curving his mouth.
"Hi, wife," he murmured.
I couldn't help smiling back. "Hi, husband."
He pulled me down into a kiss—slow and sweet, nothing like the desperation from before. Just us, tangled together, finally belonging to each other in every way that mattered.
Afterward, we lay there exhausted, staring at each other.
Roman reached up, brushed the rose petal stuck to his forehead away, and tossed it onto the floor beside the bed. Then he pulled me completely into his arms. His hand rested on my slightly rounded belly, and the warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric of my wedding dress.
"Do you think he heard?"
"Heard what?"
"My voice just now."
I froze for a second, then punched him lightly in the chest. Roman burst into laughter, and the vibration of his chest traveled through his body and into mine.
"Roman Volkov, do you have no shame?"
He didn't answer. He only lowered his head and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
The kiss was light and tender, carrying a gentleness I had never felt from him before.
"I love you, Leah."
It was the first time Roman had ever said those words to me.
My nose stung, and tears almost spilled from my eyes. I looked up and kissed him back.
"I love you too."
Outside the window, the night stretched deep and dark. The moon hung above the sea, casting a silver glow over the waves.
And I finally understood that what I had wanted all along was never to escape.
It was a place where I could stay.
A home.