Chapter 24 Roman
ROMAN
The drive back to my apartment is quiet, but it’s not tense anymore.
My hand rests on Marnie’s thigh and I can feel her watching me.
“You’re staring,” I say without taking my eyes off the road.
“I’m allowed to stare. I love you.”
My hand tightens on her leg. Hearing her say it still hits me like a body check.
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“Roman Varga, I am completely and terrifyingly in love with you.”
I pull into my building’s garage and park, but I don’t move. Just turn to look at her, trying to memorize this moment—her in my passenger seat, saying she loves me, looking at me like I’m worth keeping.
“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for weeks,” I tell her. “And now that you have, I don’t want to stop hearing it.”
“Then I’ll say it as many times as you want.”
“Good.” I lean across and kiss her, trying to keep it gentle even though everything in me wants more. “Because I love you too. So fucking much it scares me sometimes.”
Her breath catches. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” My hand cups her face. “Come upstairs with me.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
We make it through the lobby and into the elevator before I can’t help myself anymore.
I back her against the wall, careful of my shoulder but not gentle, and kiss her like I’ve been wanting to since the moment she walked out earlier.
“Roman,” she breathes against my mouth, her hands sliding up my chest.
“I know.” I press closer, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. “I need you.”
The elevator dings and I practically drag her down the hall, fumbling with my keys while she kisses my neck and makes it impossible to think straight.
“You’re not helping,” I mutter.
“Not trying to help.”
I finally get the door open and we stumble inside, mouths still connected, hands everywhere.
I kick the door shut and walk her backward, our bodies pressed together, her back hitting the hallway wall before we make it three steps.
I can’t wait. Can’t make it to the bedroom yet.
My good hand slides into her hair, tilting her head back so I can kiss down her throat. She makes this sound—half gasp, half moan—and her nails drag down my chest.
I pull back enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen, pupils blown, chest heaving. “I want you in my bed. Want you laid out where I can see all of you. Want enough room to do this properly.”
I grab her hand and pull her down the hallway, shouldering my bedroom door open.
The second we’re inside she’s pulling at my shirt, desperate and fumbling and I help her because I need her hands on me. Need to feel her touching me like I’m real, like I’m here, like I didn’t almost get seriously hurt tonight.
The shirt comes off and her fingers immediately go to the bruising spreading across my shoulder and ribs.
“God, Roman.” Her voice cracks slightly. “It’s so dark already.”
“Doesn’t hurt.” That’s a lie. It hurts like hell. But not as much as the look on her face. “Hey. I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay, you’re—”
I kiss her to stop the words. Kiss her until she’s kissing me back instead of cataloging injuries, until her hands move from the bruising to my chest, my shoulders, threading through my hair.
“I’m here,” I tell her. “I’m fine. And I’m about to spend the next hour proving it by making you come so many times you forget how scared you were.”
Her breath catches. “Hour?”
“At least.” I reach for the hem of her shirt, pull it up slowly. “Because I love you. And I need you to understand that it means I’m never letting you go. I’m keeping you.”
I reach around to unhook her bra, slide the straps down her arms. The bra hits the floor and I step back to look.
Her chest is flushed, nipples already tight, breathing fast. The soft lamplight catches on her skin and I’m struck by how fucking gorgeous she is. How lucky I am that she’s here, in my bedroom, looking at me like that.
“Your jeans,” I say, voice rougher than I intend. “Take them off.”
She reaches for the button but her hands are shaking slightly. From adrenaline or fear or want or all three.
I watch her push them down, watch her step out of them, watch as she hooks her thumbs in her underwear and slides those down too.
And then she’s completely bare in my bedroom.
I reach for my waistband with my good hand, shove the sweats and boxer briefs down together, kick them off.
And then we’re both naked and the air feels electric.
“Get on the bed, Moxie,” I tell her. “On your back.”
She climbs onto the bed, settles against my pillows, and I take a moment to just look.
Marnie in my bed. Hair spread out, skin flushed, eyes on me.
Marnie who told me she loves me tonight. Who stood in that hospice room and said it even though she was terrified.
Marnie who I get to keep.
“What are you thinking?” she asks softly.
“That I’ve wanted this for so long.” I move to the bed, kneel beside her. “That I can’t believe you’re actually here. That I love you so fucking much it scares me.”
She reaches up, fingers gentle on my face, and kisses me back.
I could stay here. Could just kiss her for hours and be happy.
But I need more. Need to taste her, touch her, make her come apart until she understands exactly what she does to me.
I break the kiss and settle between her legs, the weight of me pressing her into the mattress.
The feel of her skin against mine is overwhelming. Soft and warm and exactly right.
“Now,” I say, mouth against her ear. “Let me show you what a hat trick really means.”
Before she can ask, I slide my hand down between her thighs.
She’s already wet. Soaked, actually. And the feel of her slick and ready against my fingers makes me groan.
“Fuck, Marnie.” I circle her slowly, teasing. “Is this from earlier? Does being feisty and mad at me get you wet? Or is it from telling me you love me?”
“All of it,” she gasps.
“Good.” I slide one finger inside and her back arches, a moan tearing from her throat.
I press my good arm across her hips, holding her down. “Stay still. Tonight I’m in charge and you’re going to take what I give you.”
“Roman—”
“Shh.” I add a second finger, “Just feel.”
Her hands grip the sheets beside her head, twisting fabric between her fingers as I work her steadily.
My thumb finds her clit and she makes this desperate sound that goes straight to my cock.
“That’s it,” I murmur, watching her face. “Let me hear you. No one here but us. Just you and me and I’m going to make you feel so good you forget everything else.”
She’s climbing fast. Emotion and adrenaline and want all mixing together, her body wound so tight from tonight that it won’t take much.
I can feel it building in her—the way she’s starting to clench around my fingers, the way her breathing goes shallow, the flush spreading down her chest.
“I’m so close—”
“I know, baby. I can feel it.” I keep the rhythm. “Come for me. Show me.”
She breaks with a cry of my name, her whole body going rigid before the shaking starts.
I watch her face as she comes—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, that gorgeous flush spreading everywhere. Watch how she trembles, how she clenches around my fingers in waves.
I work her through it until she collapses back, gasping.
Then I bring my fingers to my mouth, taste her while she watches.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “I’ve missed this. Missed you. That’s one.”
She stares at me. “One?”
“One.” I shift down the bed, settle between her legs properly. “You’re going to come on my tongue now. And then, if you’re very good, I’ll let you come on my cock.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Not quite.” I lower my mouth to her.
Then I taste her properly and everything else stops mattering.
Where I was fast and demanding with my fingers, I take my time with my mouth. Licking and sucking and savoring her like I have all night. Like making her fall apart is my only goal.
Because it is.
“Too sensitive,” she gasps, trying to close her legs, but I keep them spread.
“I don’t care.” I circle her clit with my tongue and watch her nearly come off the bed. “You taste too good to stop.”
“Roman, I can’t—”
“Yes you can.” I slide two fingers back inside her while my mouth works, and the combination makes her moan. “You’re going to come again, Marnie. Going to fall apart on my tongue while I hold you down.”
I can feel her fighting it, her body oversensitive but responding anyway. That’s what I want—her so overwhelmed she can’t think, can’t worry, can only feel.
“Please,” she begs.
“Please what?” I pull back just enough to speak. “Please stop? Please don’t stop?”
“Don’t stop.” Her hands find my hair, holding me there. “God, don’t stop.”
“Never.” I redouble my efforts, tongue and fingers working in rhythm, and I can feel her building again.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her. “Feel how good this is? This is what I want. You, falling apart. You, saying my name.”
“Roman, I’m—”
The second orgasm rolls through her slower but deeper, until she’s trembling and boneless.
She looks completely wrecked and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“That’s two,” I say, kissing my way up her body.
She can’t even form words. Just lies there trying to breathe while I settle between her legs again.
I’m hard and aching against her thigh.
“You okay?” I ask, even though I can see she’s more than okay.
“I’m not going to survive a third one.”
“Yes you will.” I cup her face, brush my thumb across her cheek. “Because I’m going to make it so good you won’t care about anything else.”
I reach for the nightstand, fumble for a condom, roll it on with my good hand.
All I can do is stare down at her.
“I love you,” I say quietly. “In case you forgot in the last five minutes.”
“I didn’t forget.” Her hands frame my face, careful of the cut above my eye. “I love you too.”
“Good.” I line myself up, and that first press of entering her makes us both groan. “Because I’m about to ruin you for anyone else.”
“Already done,” she gasps as I push deeper. “Already ruined.”
I move slowly at first, letting her adjust, but every muscle in my body is screaming to take more.
“Don’t be careful with me.” Her legs wrap around my hips, pulling me deeper. “I need you. All of you.”
Fuck.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Show me. Prove you’re okay.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I set a rhythm that’s deep and demanding, each thrust deliberate. My good arm braces beside her head while my injured shoulder protests but I don’t give a shit.
This is worth it. She’s worth it.
“Feel that?” I say against her ear. “That’s me. That’s us. Nothing else matters right now.”
“Nothing else,” she agrees, and I can feel her starting to build again.
“You’re going to come one more time.” I shift the angle and hit something that makes her gasp. “Going to come with me inside you. Going to scream my name.”
“I can’t come again.”
“You can. Touch yourself, Marnie.”
I angle my hips slightly so she can reach between us. I desperately want this—want her falling apart around me, want to feel her come while I’m inside her.
My rhythm gets harder, more desperate.
She breaks around me with a cry that I feel everywhere, her body clenching so tight I nearly lose it.
I follow a few thrusts later and for a moment everything is perfect.
We stay like that, both of us trying to remember how to breathe.
When I finally lift my head, I can’t help the satisfied smirk.
“What?” she asks, voice hoarse.
“That’s called a hat trick, Moxie.” I’m grinning now. “And I’m awarding myself first star of the game.”
She stares at me for a second, processing, and then she’s laughing and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all night.
“You did not just—”
“Oh, I did.” I’m ridiculously pleased with myself. “Three orgasms. All mine. First star: Captain Roman Varga.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love me anyway.”
“Unfortunately.” She pulls me down for a kiss. “You cocky hockey player.”
“Your cocky hockey player,” I correct, carefully rolling off to deal with the condom before returning to pull her against my side. “And you’re stuck with me now.”
“Good.” She curls into my good side, fitting perfectly. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
I press my lips to her forehead. “Neither am I.”
And watching her fall asleep in my arms, I know I’ve never meant anything more in my life.