Chapter 12 - Victoria
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him.
With that pleasant haze taking up space in my head, he looks far too appealing to pass up.
The city comes to life while the driver guides us on, but with the liquor humming in my bloodstream, I’m more focused on the strong presence beside me.
Roman is silent in his seat, exuding as much self-control as he can muster, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me for even a moment.
We’re situated closely in the back of the SUV, but not close enough to touch. Even so, I can feel his warmth, along with the palpable tension between us. It’s alive and so loud it commands my complete attention.
For all my previous anger and resentment toward him, everything feels different. Clearer.
I can’t forget the way it felt to have his hands on me, or his body pressed against mine.
I don’t know how or when it started, but my mind has been solely on him and the silent promise of what might spark between us.
As much as I should ignore the burning in me and return to hating him, I just want him. I’m already in too deep, and something about him is far too intriguing. Too appealing.
Even if he’s dangerous and comes from a world I have no business being anywhere near, I can’t bring myself to care.
With a renewed sense of confidence, I face him and notice the way his jaw tenses slightly.
“I had fun…”
His gaze is purposefully unreadable, and I can tell he’s trying not to give away his hand too soon, even if it’s obvious he’s feeling just as worked up as I am.
“No wonder…you were drunk.”
“And?”
Seemingly scrutinizing me, Roman still doesn’t let his mask slip. Instead, he maintains a newfound self-restraint that looks so breakable. He doesn’t answer.
“Somehow, I think you liked it,” I murmur, looking him over as I feel myself closing in on his personal space. “…Even if you want to pretend like you’re completely unaffected.”
There’s another beat of silence, and while he wants me to believe he’s unfazed by my advances, I know he’s trying to hold back. He’s trying to keep a grip on himself.
“You’re far too presumptuous,” Roman says, not-so-subtly letting his eyes roam over my features.
“And you’re suddenly surprisingly composed…at least, that’s what you’re trying to convince me of.”
As the words leave me, I move a little closer until our breath starts to mingle, and despite himself, his hitches, even just slightly.
I can’t keep my attention away from his lips long enough to restrain myself, and as I slowly close more of that space, he doesn’t push me away.
“But if you ask me…” I hum, letting my lips pull as my nose brushes against his. “I think you’re barely holding back.”
A soft breath escapes him, and it feels like a quiet confirmation. An admittance without words.
Then, my lips press against his.
Roman initially locks up, but with a flicker of consideration, he eases into it.
With that hesitation behind him, he kisses me back while he reaches for me, sliding a hand around my waist.
At once, his mouth is hot and everywhere at once. It’s too perfect. Too warm, inviting, and completely addicting. That firm grip on me sends a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, nothing else exists.
It’s only us and the heat exchanged between us. The easy relinquishing of resistance and absolute need.
Losing myself in the hunger of it all, the kiss deepens, and my body surrenders to him. Calls to him, even.
With nothing but him surrounding me, I run my fingers through his hair and catch the ends, using them as leverage to keep his face as close as possible.
After there being nothing but tension between us, that heat mounts even higher, and that need is stoked within my stomach.
Regardless of my previous resistance, I can’t help but think of one word while a relieved-sounding breath is exchanged between us.
Finally .
Finally…he’s giving in and not pretending he doesn’t want this.
Even if his desire was more than obvious at the club, he wanted to act like the opposite was true. I don’t know why, but it’s pointless to even try and avoid it now.
Whether it’s the alcohol or the pent-up frustration of being at each other’s throats, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care in the slightest.
When I move closer and give him everything I’ve been holding back, Roman groans from somewhere low in his chest, and it sends a rush of excitement through me. Those sparks push my desire into overdrive, and before I know it, I’m in so deep, that I can’t possibly find my way out again.
“Please…” I whisper against his lips while resting a hand against his chest, hoping to coax him into more.
“Please what?” He asks, knowing damn well what I want.
But that breathless tone of his has me feeling powerful in a way. Like the tables have turned in my favor.
Feeling desired only makes me need this more. At once, I know I want to go further. I want to find out just how dangerous he can be.
“I want you,” I murmur in between kisses, drifting even closer to his lap.
For a beat, Roman pauses, then his fingers flex against my waist, and he kisses me again, but harder. More urgently.
While I arch into him, seeking every point of contact I can get, he pulls me closer and nearly melds our bodies together.
It’s all so hot and overwhelming at once, but it’s so good. Too good to waste.
A thrill scurries down my back at the thought of reaching that next step. Of giving in and being able to feel him so completely. To surrender and gain some sense of satisfaction.
This is it…it has to be.
Roman’s hands roam, leaving fire in their wake while they grab and squeeze. At the same time, he maps my curves and hums against my mouth.
It's dizzying. Addicting.
I can’t get enough of how he tastes or the way he holds me like he can’t stand to be apart. I savor the burning trail his tongue makes along my lower lip and the way it makes my entire body hum with eagerness.
We continue like this for an indiscernible amount of time, both nearly starving and unable to get enough.
But as the vehicle slows and pulls into the driveway, his enthusiasm simmers down to a barely-there state.
When Roman pulls back, I open my eyes, and I find him staring back at me with his jaw clenched.
At once, I can tell the urge to restrain himself has returned in full force.
My brows pinch together as I gaze at him while I catch my breath. “Roman?”
He forces out a breath and averts his gaze before running a hand over his mouth. That tension etches its way into his features. “Not tonight.”
Blinking back at him, I feel thrown off balance. “What?”
“You heard me,” Roman murmurs, voice gentler than usual. “You’ve been drinking.”
“So have you.”
He doesn’t seem all that amused as he returns, “And I’m not drunk.”
I scoff. “Neither am I.”
Taking a closer look at me, he doesn’t seem to buy it. “You obviously are. And you aren’t thinking clearly.”
Something about that observation irritates me, driving through my chest like a burning blade.
Even if his eyes hold the faintest hint of irritation, he’s being surprisingly gentle. Almost frustratingly so.
As he puts distance between us, disappointment pools in my gut, and I can’t help but feel a sense of rejection. After everything…it stings.
But Roman doesn’t give me enough time to sit with it. Instead, he opens the door, steps out, then offers me a hand.
I look at it for a long moment, wishing I could scream.
Still, I take it, and he guides me out.
As the night air reaches my skin and my feet touch the pavement, my true state becomes more apparent as I wobble. It makes my whole body react with some delay, and I reach out to steady myself against the SUV.
“Here…stand still,” Roman murmurs before dipping down and scooping me up without much thought or effort.
Everything shifts around me, and when I open my eyes again, I find myself against his chest, being carried towards the door.
Off-kilter from the movement while my mind tries to catch up, I try to focus on him and not the way it slightly turns my stomach.
Roman moves with quiet purpose through the house, up the stairs, and down the hall towards one of the spare rooms—the one assigned to me.
As we reach the door, he pushes it open and wordlessly walks inside.
That irritation within me only festers the longer I’m in his arms, and I sigh. This isn’t what I was hoping for…
Picking up on this, Roman glances down at me and moves towards the bed. “Don’t give me that…whenever I get to have you for the first time, we both better be sober.”
While the implication still sends a thrilling shiver down my back, I still can’t let go of that disappointment. Of the subtle burn.
It’s his turn to let go of a breath as he adjusts me in his arms before lowering me to the bed.
“I want it to be more than heat and impulse…I want it to be earned. Savored. Not decided on a whim.”
I know there’s more to his words, especially given the tension in his shoulders, but it still isn’t easy to hear at the moment.
I shuffle back into the bed and try to ignore the coiling irritation within me. “I’m not made of glass…”
“I know you aren’t.”
“So then, don’t act like you’re protecting me,” I mumble, avoiding his gaze.
“But I am…and I’m trying to do the right thing.”
At some point, the lamp is flipped on, but I can hardly keep my eyes open from how bright it is. Using my forearm, I block out the light and grumble to myself.
“Right…by making me wait.”
“Yes…by making you wait. By making us wait until we’re both in the right state of mind,” Roman says, disappearing into the ensuite for a moment before returning with a glass of water. He sets it down with a decisive clunk.
I hate that he’s making sense…
Eyes still closed while the alcohol swims in my stomach, I vaguely listen while he busies himself around the room.
He seems to move with practiced ease, almost like he has done this before. Or at least, like he’s used to not taking anything offered to him too easily.
It’s all so frustrating, and yet, it’s also endearing in a way.
Another short breath escapes him, and when I open my eyes again, he’s standing next to the bed. His eyes look somewhat softer than they did before.
“Sleep it off. If you need anything, shout.”
Blinking back at him, I try to make sense of the disappointment tangled with confusion and lingering desire in my chest. I try to understand how it all changed so quickly.
But Roman reaches down and lightly brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes. It’s more tender than I anticipated.
Then, without another word, he flicks the lamp off and walks out of the room.
Stunned into silence, I don’t know what to think. How to feel.
Instead, I can only lie there in the dark while my mind returns to everything that happened since we arrived at the club.
Finally, the alcohol’s glaring effects begin to wear off, and everything else around me slows into a somewhat lethargic state.
Closing my eyes again, prepared to drift, my mind gets stuck on the way he looked at me…how he seemed just as hungry as I felt.
Like denying that longing physically hurt him.
Even if I didn’t get what I wanted, I can still acknowledge the obvious care in his refusal…in the need to wait.