Chapter 25
?
Luna
The next few days pass without incident and, ironically, with a slightly alarming normality. In the morning we all have breakfast, then I sit down to work and Roman leaves for the office or other business I prefer not to know about.
The nights are another story. There are many touches, many kisses and...nothing else. I've appreciated that he hasn't pushed for more, but there are moments when I feel like I'll explode if he doesn't touch me.
How can I telepathically tell him I don't want to wait anymore, without seeming desperate?
We've discussed what his organization does these days, but I'm still processing the details and trying not to panic. I’ve accepted his activities much more easily than I’d thought I would. But there’s still no news on the Irish mafia boss or Aidan.
There's uncertainty in the air, given the semi-siege state we're in, but we can't risk it. I know from personal experience how easy it is to make a wrong step that costs you, but if it's been annoying for us, for Victoria it's horrible. This morning, she almost started crying when Roman forbade her from going to a friend's birthday party.
I feel guilty.
Before he leaves, I see Roman looking at his phone and frowning.
"Damn it," he mutters.
"Did something happen?" I ask because normally his expression is unreadable.
"I forgot about Senator Keith's party," he says, and when he sees my confused look, he comes toward me.
"I'd like you to come with me tonight," he says, taking my hands in his.
Okay. It's a party. How bad can it be? But you don't react well in crowds . Ugh ...
"Sure," I tell him and attempt a smile .
I don't want him to know how stressed I am about the idea of being surrounded by so many people. I feel like at any moment I'll see Aidan appearing from around the corner.
"I promise we won't stay long. I just need to make an appearance," he tells me, as if reading the anxiety in my eyes.
"How fancy is this party?" I ask because the last thing I need is to embarrass him at a public event because I look like I haven't left the house in years.
"Black tie, but don't worry. I'll send Sofia to help you with a dress. I'll come home at seven to pick you up," he tells me and kisses me before leaving.
It takes me five seconds to process because all I can think is: who is Sofia?
I hate this feeling. I've never been jealous. Aidan always made remarks about how he could have another girl in his lap and it wouldn't affect me. It would have bothered me because of the lack of respect, but with Roman, the idea that there could be another woman...no. I don't even want to think about it. He promised he'd tell me if anything changed. Then why does it bother me so much that he has a relationship with another woman, one close enough that he'd send her to help me?
A few hours later, a petite blonde woman enters the office, where I'm sitting with my laptop, and introduces herself as Sofia, Niko's assistant. And she's actually really nice. The kind of person that seems willing to help you move all your furniture at 3 a.m. if you need it.
"Thank you so much for the help," I tell her because the poor thing came with more than ten dresses loaded in her arms.
And they all seem to be my size.
"Since Roman forgot about the event and Felix didn't know at that time that you'd be coming too, we had to improvise. Roman gave me your approximate measurements, but I think I got it right," she tells me, looking me over from head to toe.
She's wearing long, tapered pants, boots with a heel that help her reach five foot five, and has just enough makeup to be professional yet somehow stand out.
I don't overlook the fact that Roman gave her my measurements although I've never been completely undressed in front of him. And again it frustrates me that I'm not brave enough to tell him I want more intimacy.
After trying on five dresses, at the sixth I stop because it's...perfect. It's a dark blue with small sequins that make the dress look like the starry sky. It has quite a deep neckline, but for this occasion I don't think it's too much.
I ask Sofia to help me with my hair because the only way I know how to style it is the typical bun on top of my head. After forty minutes, my hair is pulled back in a loose bun with a few elegant hair pins. A few strands are left loose, and when I look at the final result, I'm left speechless.
Wow. I should dress up more often.
"You look gorgeous," Sofia tells me, her blue eyes shining brightly.
"Thanks to you," I answer, because it's true.
If she hadn't come with the dresses and if she hadn't helped me with my hair, I wouldn't have achieved this final result.
"Luna, Roman is downstairs," I hear Anuska call from the other side of the door.
"I guess it's time to leave."
Did I overdo it with the neckline? What if he says I'm trying to attract attention? What if he's ashamed of me?
I shake my head. Roman isn't Aidan.
When I see him waiting by the stairs, I forget how to breathe. I didn't think he could get any more gorgeous than he already was, but his black suit and bow tie give him an even more regal air.
Earth to Luna.
His eyes turn a dark gray when he looks over my outfit, and I feel the need to fidget under his gaze, but I resist. I look good. I know this. Rationally at least.
"I'm seriously wondering if it wouldn't be better to stay home," he tells me, and his voice is low and hoarse, like it is in the morning.
At that moment I almost yell to forget the damn party, to take me to the bedroom, but even I know that a senator's invitation shouldn’t be ignored. Especially when you need all the political support you can get.
"Mr. Borisov, you have responsibilities," I remind him teasingly, but when his gaze locks on my mouth, I involuntarily feel the need to wet my lips.
He swallows and takes a step toward me.
"Do that again," he orders in a tone that awakens every dormant cell.
"You can do that for me." I don't know where the hell my head gets this response from.
He reaches out and snatches my waist with his hands, pulling me toward him. His tongue invades my lips almost instantly. Now I really don't want to go to any party.
His lips move over every inch of my mouth, as if he wants to mark every cell as his own. I feel like I'll catch fire if he doesn't give me more, so I let out a moan, which causes his eyes to pop open.
"Luna."
It's a warning, and I know I should listen to it. Now isn't the time for my hormones to run wild. It takes me a few moments before I take his hand and pull him toward the door. We won't be going anywhere if one of us doesn't clear our minds.
?
The drive is relatively short, and when the driver enters the senator's courtyard, I realize how far removed I am from their reality. The white Victorian house is lit by lanterns that give it an intimate atmosphere. At the entrance there's a valet and another person checking invitations. Somewhere on the left are gardens, similarly lit, where guests can be seen enjoying their drinks and conversation.
Roman extends his hand to help me out of the car, and without meaning to, I squeeze it harder than necessary. He leans toward me and kisses me on the cheek.
"I promise we won't stay long," he whispers.
Clearly it’s obvious that I don't feel quite comfortable. I hate crowds in general. Crowds where everyone wears clothes more expensive than my three-month salary? Yes. I hate them even more.
After we each take a glass - me champagne, him whiskey - we enter a kind of salon that was probably meant for balls in the past. From the high ceiling hang two chandeliers, and on the walls hang various paintings that, I assume, are meant to be appreciated by people with more sophisticated taste than mine.
We’ve barely entered when a gentleman dressed in a three-piece black suit appears. He's around sixty, but you can see life has been generous with him.
"Mr. Borisov, I was just wondering if you would honor us with your presence."
His voice is smooth, and I realize this man is a politician. He has a special charisma that makes you feel relaxed in his presence.
"Ah, Keith. I couldn't miss the opportunity," Roman answers him.
The fact that the senator chose to address Roman formally, while Roman chose to drop the formalities, clearly shows the power play. They're afraid of him.
Somehow this should scare me, but it makes me feel...proud.
Clearly I've completely and irremediably lost it.
"And who is the gorgeous lady accompanying you?" he asks, his eyes traversing my entire body.
I know this dress fits snugly on my curves, but I still feel embarrassed at the senator's gaze.
"Luna, and I'd suggest you keep your eyes on me, not on my woman," Roman tells him.
The senator blushes slightly and coughs out an apology.
I find it quite amusing how these people pass laws that can change millions of lives, but at a few words from Roman, they're nearly having a coronary.
I lean slightly toward Roman. I imagine there are several reasons why he wanted to come here, and I don't want him to lose the opportunity to do what he needs to do because he eviscerated the senator with his look.
"Once again, I apologize if I offended you, Luna," the senator tells me, looking more at my forehead than at me, which is why I try to ease the tension.
"Don't worry. I'm very happy to be here. I'm an admirer of your project for cybersecurity in hospitals," I say, pleased that I did my homework in advance.
Although I didn’t remember his face, I know he was the one who insisted on implementing a higher level of security in hospitals that were the target of hackers demanding ransoms.
At least something useful is being done with our tax money.
"You don't know how happy I am to hear that good things come to light. This was something I was really passionate about!" he responds, completely flattered, and continues to explain to me the logistics that went into passing this law.
Actually, the man needed public sympathy. I glance at Roman and see him smiling at me. I want to kiss that smile. As if reading my thoughts, his gaze drops to my lips, and our earlier embrace comes to mind. Nope. Not the time . I shift my gaze, although I'm sure I'm blushing.
After another ten minutes of the senator bragging about what other proposals have been approved, I notice Roman tensing.
"And regarding the routes leaving from the Illinois port?"
I have no idea what routes they're referring to, but the senator’s demeanor also turns serious, and several minutes pass during which they discuss transport and routes and smuggling. That specific term isn't used, but you don't have to be a genius to figure out that's what they’ve been talking about.
I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and Roman's hand tightens on mine. He looks up at someone behind me and nods. When I turn around, I see a man in a suit approaching us.
"Luna, go with Dmitri," he tells me, and I wonder how many other men like Dmitri are here with us without me having any idea. I could have sworn we were alone here, but obviously someone like Roman wouldn't come to such a party without protection.
I exhale and head to the bathroom. You can tell the senator has been lucky in his career by the gold-framed mirrors and the fact that there are vases with flowers even in here. God, how much money some people have.
I'm drying my hands when my phone buzzes, and when I see the notification, I'm glad I'm near the counter so I can lean on it.
?
How the hell does he always know where I am?
Every pore in my body screams to run, to hide in a hole and never come out. Maybe then he'll leave me alone. Because this harassment is driving me crazy. I feel like after each message like this, a piece of my emotional stability disappears.
I leave the bathroom and see Dmitri standing like a statue waiting for me. I look around but don't see any suspicious figures anywhere. That's even worse. Maybe he's not here, but someone is surely reporting back to him.
The whole way back to Roman, I keep turning the same thoughts over in my head.
I'll never escape him.
I was never safe. What if next time I meet him, he snaps and...
"Luna," Roman's voice breaks me from the avalanche of thoughts.
I try to put a smile on my lips, but it's weak and he sees this.
"Keith, I think it's time to end our discussion. Luna isn't feeling well. I'm counting on those routes remaining undisturbed," he says and, without waiting for a reply, takes my hand and leads me outside.
"We don't have to leave," I tell him, trying to make my voice calm and steady. I don't want to ruin his evening because of this incident.
"What happened?" he asks, and his tone is so gentle, as if he knows that's what I need.
I take out my phone and show him the message, not bothering to lie. What would be the point? As he reads the text, he turns to Dmitri, who's behind us.
"Call Lev. Tell him I want a complete guest list for this party. He won't get near you, Luna."
It's an assurance, but something in me doubts it. Because I know it only takes one moment of distraction. How many times has Aidan been waiting for me when I left work? How many times has he waited by my apartment entrance? Too many times.
"Okay," I answer because I can't tell him I don't trust in his power to keep me safe.
"Let's go home."
Roman is silent as he leads me to the car. The entire ride I don't say a word. I try to go through all the faces in my head of the people I saw tonight, somehow hoping I missed Aidan’s. To have an explanation for all the details he knows.
When we finally get home, all I want is to forget about this whole thing. Roman emanates an energy as if he wants to wipe half the planet off the face of the earth. We enter the bedroom and I turn to him.
"Roman," I say, placing my hands on his chest.
"Never, Luna. He'll never hurt you again. Never," he swears, and I feel the promise in his voice, but I know you can't guarantee such things.
I feel his anger. I feel his frustration. And in this moment, I just want to make him relax.
I inhale and exhale once. Maybe one day Aidan will find me. Maybe one day I won't manage to hide from him anymore, but today isn't that day, so I don’t want to spend it sinking deeper into all these worries.
I rise on my tiptoes toward his mouth. His lips part slightly, and it's all the signal I need to kiss him.
I feel a ball of warmth forming in my belly, and then a shiver of pleasure runs through my entire body.
If this is what a kiss does to my body, I don't know what this man could draw out of me if we take things further.
His hands position themselves low on my back and pull me toward him. I feel his erection, and I'm lucky my mouth is being totally devoured by his, otherwise I don't know what sound would have come out of me. His touch leaves tingles in its wake because he's so delicate with me, as if he's afraid I'll break if he touches me harder.
Except, in this moment, I want more. I want him to break me so my thoughts don’t keep spiraling.
His mouth moves to my neck, alternating between kisses and little nips.
I push his jacket down and his gaze darkens. I see all the desire I feel for this man mirrored in his eyes. I'm tired of being afraid, of not taking what I want. This man who could have any woman in the world, this man who smells like oranges and a forest on a rainy morning. This man who fixes all my broken pieces with his touch.
I reach for his top button and undo it. And then the second.
"Are you sure?"
His voice is slightly choked, and through his heated gaze, I know he's near the limit of his control.
"You have no idea," I whisper while continuing to work on his shirt.
It's not the first time I've seen his abs, but I don't think I'll ever get used to this work of art. He isn’t overly muscled, but it's the perfect combination of regular gym workouts and good genetics. He has several tattoos across his chest, one of them extending slightly to his neck, which I trace with my fingertips.
His hands tense on me.
"Am I tickling you?" I ask in an amused tone.
"Not where you think," he answers with an arrogant smile.
I feel exactly where I'm affecting him, and my entire face is on fire. I'm not usually the one who takes the initiative when it comes to sex, but with him I want to do this, to be the one who takes the first step, because I know that’s all he needs. For me to initiate this.
He has a tattoo on his chest that looks like a pendulum, under which something is written in Russian.
"What does it say here?" I ask, and think I should learn at least a few words of his native language.
His eyes soften at the edges, gray irises melting as they meet mine.
"Bratva is honor. Bratva is for life."
There's a certain emotion in his voice, and I've noticed that usually his tone is formal and neutral. Rarely do I detect any inflection in it indicating he has feelings about a subject. The only people I see him use a more affectionate tone with are Victoria, Anuska, and me. Even Niko usually receives an authoritative tone. I don't know why, but I lean down and kiss his tattoo.
Rationally I know I hate the organization he's part of, but Roman is the head of the Russian mafia in Chicago. He is the man he is now because he's been part of this organization for so many years.
I know that if he hadn't had the Russian mafia in his life, he wouldn't be who he is. He wouldn't be the man who knows each of my perfumes and who always seems fascinated when he senses me wearing a new one. The man who rubbed my back while I was having a panic attack. The man I’m fairly certain I’m falling for.
The rhythm of his breath fractures, hot and uneven against my skin, as recognition dawns in the space between heartbeats.
It's my way of telling him I accept him fully.
His hands move to the back of my dress and pull the zipper down. The material pools lightly at my feet. Because of the daring neckline, I hadn't worn a bra.
His gaze locks on my breasts, and he runs his tongue over his lips as if he could already taste them. His predator eyes follow me as I step out of my dress and stand before him.
Normally I would die of shame standing only in underwear in front of a man, but seeing how fascinated he is by the view I'm offering, I feel wrapped in an unnatural boldness.
"I swear I don't believe in any higher power, but in this moment I'm sure there must be one; otherwise I can't explain how you came out so perfect," he rasps, and although it's not the first time I've received a compliment, the way he says it, as if I were a deity he worships, sends shivers down my spine.
It's enough for him to raise his gaze and see the way I'm looking at him. Quickly I'm lifted into his arms and lowered onto the bed.
His mouth assaults all my senses, and when I feel his bare chest touching my breasts, I can't avoid the sound that escapes me.
I automatically spread my legs, making room for him, and even though he still has his pants on, he pushes against me, seeking the smallest trace of friction. I feel how hard he is, and I push back against him, trying to soothe my need to be touched.
A groan vibrates from his throat, and I swear it's the sexiest sound I've ever heard in my life.
His mouth moves to my breasts, seeking to give them equal attention, and the moment his tongue circles one of them, my head sinks further into the pillow. My fingers weave through his hair, grip tightening with each heartbeat until my knuckles whiten. A gasp tears from my throat as his tongue traces patterns that send electricity racing down my spine. Each deliberate touch leaves me trembling, desperate for more, and I want to see him.
His head dips lower, his tongue trailing fire across my skin while his eyes stay locked on mine.
My heart skips when I catch his look - hungry but tender, like I'm everything that matters to him. I don't think he knows how much he's showing right now, how raw and open his soul is. And right now, I wish I could reach into my chest and hand him my heart, just to keep it safe. Because I know he would. He would go to wars and move mountains to protect me.
If I ever thought I could stop myself from falling for this man, that hope died the second he looked at me like this.
His head lowers between my legs, and before my mind can clear to tell him he doesn't need to do this, I feel my underwear being torn.
"Heeey!" I squeal.
All I get in response is a light laugh before his mouth consumes me as if he was starved, and I think I see stars the moment his tongue circles my clit. Aidan was never a fan of going down on me, and somehow that made me feel like I was the problem. That I was not worthy of the time and effort. But the way Roman hums while sucking the little bundle of nerves makes me realize it never felt like this. Like this turns him on just as much. His hands tighten around my ass to bring me closer.
“Fuck. Please don’t stop,” is all I manage to say.
“Say please again, love.” He smirks, and I'm so far gone I'd crawl to him if he asked, just to feel his lips on me again.
“Please.” My hands grip his hair, pulling him closer.
Then, because this man plans on ruining me for everyone else, he penetrates me with his tongue, and for a fraction of a second, I think I pass out.
Heat blooms beneath each brush of his fingers trailing down my thighs, his grip leaving imprints, his touch burning my skin. When he raises his gaze, his lips are wet, and I involuntarily blush, seeing his smile. I lean forward, determined to kiss that smirk off his lips while my fingers fumble with his belt, desperate to eliminate the last barrier between us.
"I didn't know you were so impatient, love," he tells me teasingly.
Oh, he has no idea how impatient I am.
He rises and tosses his pants and boxers to the floor beside the bed while keeping his gaze locked on me.
Oh my God. I’d felt his length on other occasions, but the real deal? I’m still hot and so fucking turned on by what he did to me a few moments ago that I can feel my entire body going tight with need.
I start to dip my head, eager to show him just how much I want him, but his fingers tangle in my hair, holding me back.
"But I want to—" I begin, my voice husky with desire.
"Luna," he growls, his tone a mix of warning and barely restrained need. "If those lips of yours get anywhere near me right now, I'll lose what little control I have left."
He leans over me, caging me in with his arms on either side of my head.
"Do you know how many times I've imagined you in my bed, naked and wet for me?" he asks in that sinful voice.
I shake my head no and watch him positioning himself between my legs. In one smooth move, I feel him sliding into me.
"Far too many times," he answers hoarsely.
I try to acclimate to the slight burning sensation and breathe, my hands gripping his back. I slowly relax my muscles, and the first waves of pleasure begin to course through my body as I start to move a little bit. He’s thick, and when a vein starts to pulse inside of me, my entire body locks from how good it feels.
"Are you okay?" he asks with a note of concern.
I nod yes, because I've lost my voice from the sensations enveloping me. My skin sizzles and all I know is that I want this man. Now. Tomorrow. Every single day of my life.
"Words, Luna," he says through clenched teeth.
"Yes. Can you please move? I feel like I'm going to explode, like right fucking now," I tell him, and I realize that all the tension in his body is because he was restraining himself from moving so as not to hurt me.
I cling to him, and with each movement he makes, I know for certain that no other man will compare to him. His mouth moves to my neck while one of his hands grips my hip to steady any movement I make. I try to hold back and not be too vocal, but at some point my brain forgets this and I scream his name.
"Damn, baby, say my name again," he says in a strangled voice, and he positions his hand at the base of my neck.
Somehow in the madness of the moment, my mind goes to someone else who put their hand on my throat, and not to give me pleasure. I know he feels how my body has gone on alert because he slows his movements but doesn’t stop, and somehow that helps. Because I feel him. My entire body knows who I’m with, and the way his hips touch my center with each trust makes me more aware of where I am. With whom.
"You're here with me and you have control, Luna. Just tell me and I'll stop," he whispers, and I know it would be hard for him to do that, but he would.
I nod and try to anchor myself in the present. In his orange and sage scent. In his free hand gently caressing my breasts. In those gray eyes that would destroy all my nightmares with one burning look.
I'm overwhelmed by all the sensations and I can't fight the orgasm that envelops me. His mouth descends to mine just as the wave of warmth ravages me, and I don't think I even remember my name anymore.
“Mine.” Thrust. “Mine.” Thrust. “Fucking mine, love.”
“Yours.” I whisper near his mouth while saying his name again and again and again.
After a few more thrusts, his body suddenly stops and a guttural moan escapes him, our kiss consuming most of the sound. For several moments I'm sure I'm floating, and I try to remember when I ever felt so complete. So at peace.
He presses a kiss on the crown of my head, a gesture that seems so innocent compared to what we just did. My thighs are still trembling from his movements and the evidence of what we did runs down on my thighs.
"Let's clean up," he whispers softly in my ear before gently biting the lobe. A laugh escapes me because apparently I'm ticklish when touched there.
"I don't think I can move in the next few minutes," I tell him, giggling because I feel euphoric.
He looks at me with the same adoring gaze from earlier, and I feel my cheeks reddening.
"Don't look at me like that," I whisper because I feel exposed under his scrutiny.
"Get used to it because I don't have another way of looking at you, moya dusha," he says and rises, lifting me up with him.
I never thought I would find it sexy to be carried in a man's arms, but the way Roman makes me feel as if I were light as a feather as he carries me to the bathroom makes him even more attractive than he already was.
"Want me to fill the tub?" he asks, and as I rest my head on his shoulder, I'm tempted to close my eyes and fall asleep.
"Will you join me?" I ask drowsily.
"Yes, love," he answers and kisses my head again.
He sets me on the bathroom counter and turns on the water. He examines the various bottles, trying to decide what to pour in the tub.
Oof, Luna. You never had a chance of not falling in love with this man, right from the start.
When the tub is almost full, he returns to me and starts massaging my legs.
"I didn't expect you to be the type to fill my tub with bubbles," I tell him, laughing softly.
"I'm not that type, but for you I want to be. Only for you," he says in a warm but serious tone.
Roman helps me down from the counter and leads me to the tub. I sink into the warm water and let out a sound of satisfaction as my whole body is covered by lavender-scented foam.
He positions himself behind me, and I lean back against him. It's such an intimate position that feels so natural. My body fits like a puzzle piece against his, and at this moment, all I feel is that this man, so dangerous, so calculated, was made for me.
Just for me.