It has been a long day. All I want to do is crawl in my bed and cry. I try to be strong, but I can only go on for so long.
I arrive in the apartment with mom trailing behind me. She hasn’t spoken to me since she picked me up from the police station. I have nothing I want to say to her right now, anyway. It’s not like she’s going to admit what she did. But now that I know what she’s capable of, I don’t want to live here anymore. I fear what she might do to me.
I just want to live with my dad. But until the current custody order is overruled, staying here is my only option. I can’t even leave the building alone.
The smell of roast lamb hits me as I walk into the kitchen. Mary’s fixing her famous roast dinner. I want to kiss her; she knows how much I love her roasts. She smiles over at me and opens her mouth to say something, but Mom butts in.
“Oh, Mary. I forgot you were here,” Mom says in a tone that says she believes Mary is beneath her.
I hate the way she speaks to her . . . Mom used to serve. She was a flight attendant once. She should know how it feels to be talked down to, but now that she has all the money in the world, she’s above everyone. Including me.
Mom throws her bag on the coffee table and turns to the both of us as she taps away on her phone with a clicking of her nails. I hate that sound.
Eventually, she looks up at us. “I’m going out for dinner with some friends. I won’t be back tonight.” She eyes me, and I know she will have security downstairs to stop me leaving. I know, because I’ve already tried.
I want to scream at her. I want to tell her I know she’s the killer . . . that I’m going to prove that she killed Malcolm. But while I’m still here, I need to be careful. I can’t say these things, or she will kill me. I just know it.
She lets out a small huff when I don’t respond. What am I supposed to say? Have a great night? I’ll be locked up here in the penthouse, crying myself to sleep, like I do every night.
My mom turns off toward her room, leaving me alone with Mary. She’s not a grieving widow tonight. I hope the press sees her and questions what the hell she’s doing out with her friends so soon after the death of her beloved husband.
Hell, maybe I should ask her where she’s going and tip them off.
Mary clears her throat, and I turn to find her smiling at me. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since I’ve been back.
“Mila, why don’t you go to your room and freshen up? I left you something in there.” She beams at me with a twinkle in her eye.
“A gift?” I ask, and she nods and pushes me toward my room.
“A gift. I left it on your bed.” She winks at me and puts her finger to her lips. I take a deep breath and nod. I have to been quiet about it. She’s trying to cheer me up; it’s sweet, but nothing’s going to make this day any better. Even chocolate.
“Yeah, a shower’s a great idea. I need to wash this day off me.”
The one thing I’m grateful for is that my room is the same as I left it, which is strange. I thought my mother would have turned it into something else already. I’d been gone six months, but she left my room untouched.
There are enough rooms in this apartment, and she’s already turned one into a nursery for the baby. It’s a beautiful nursery; she must’ve had the designer help her with it, because God only knows, my mother doesn’t have that kind of taste.
I make my way to my room, which is as far away from my mom’s as possible. Opening the door, I close it behind me with a soft click. I flick the light switch and gasp, my hand going to my throat, when I see the figure on my bed.
I watch as he sits up. “Roman?”
He’s been sleeping . . . on my bed. In New York. He’s here with me. How? When? I can’t form words; I’m too overwhelmed with emotions.
“Mila,” he says with a sleepy voice.
I choke out a sob—he’s real. He’s really here in my room.
He rushes over and wraps me in his large arms, and I smell him. The smell is like home. Roman’s here. He came for me. I knew he would.
I burst into tears, and he rubs my back without saying a word. How did he get here? Did he fly? How did he even get into the building?
Then I realize it was Mary. This is my gift, the reason she’s smiling so big out there. She knows all about my guys. I’ve told her all about Roman over the years, and she would have known who he was right away and let him up.
“Oh, God, I missed you so much.” I didn’t realize how much I needed him here until now.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers as he places a kiss on my head.
I pull back and look up at him. He looks exhausted. Like he hasn’t slept in days. “Did you drive all the way here?” He smiles down at me and nods. “Alone?” His smile drops, and he nods again. I shake my head and kiss him. He drove all the way here for me.
“How are the others? I couldn’t really talk to any of you. I’m pretty sure my phone is bugged by my mom and I don’t want anybody else getting in trouble for things in the past.”
I didn’t want them to mention Roman’s dad or how he died. I don’t need to worry about them getting into trouble because we’re not being careful.
He grunts. “We guessed as much.” He twirls stands of my hair in his fingers and kisses me again, and I melt into his arms.
“Mom will kick you out if she finds you here.”
He shrugs, not seeming worried. But I am. I can’t have him here only for her to take him away from me.
“Mary likes me. She told me all about myself.” He raises a brow and I chuckle.
Oh, god, what did she tell him? All the stuff I love about him, probably. Jace . . . I don’t know if Mary would have let him up. I smile to myself; no, she would have let him up. I told her all the nice things he’s done for me since he got done being an asshole.
“How have you been?” he asks, and I can’t hold back.
I cry again, and he leads me down to the bed, wraps me in his arms, and holds me as I let out everything I’ve been holding inside.
There’s a knock at the door. I sit up, look over at Roman, and back at the door. Fuck, it’s my mom. I scramble up, and Roman does the same until we hear, “It’s just me, dears. We’re all alone, and I have dinner ready for you. Come out whenever you’re ready. I’ll be off until morning. Have a good night, lovebirds.”
I let out a deep breath as my shoulders drop. “Thank you, Mary,” I call out to her. “And thank you for the gift in my room. If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have been allowed up here.”
Her responding chuckle is audible from the other side of the door. “You deserved a very handsome gift, Mila.”
I giggle. “He’s the most handsome gift I’ve ever received.”
Roman’s cheeks turn a shade of pink. I poke his arm, and he shakes his head. Oh, my big bad Roman is all embarrassed now.
“It’s our little secret,” Mary says. “Don’t worry about your mom. I’ll keep him here unnoticed.” And with that, she leaves.
Roman being here will have to be our secret. Mom wouldn’t allow him here; she’s isolating me from everyone. I bet it’s her plan to drive me crazy. Only, she doesn’t know the cops are now onto her . . . thanks to that beep. That one small sound was all Grace needed to question things more. She cut the interview short and left with some other officers. But I don’t want to think about that now; I just want to be happy for a few hours and not think about anything that’s been happening.
“I need a shower.” I groan.
I don’t want to get up off the bed. I’m worried that, if I let go of Roman and take a shower, he won’t be here when I come back. That this will turn out to be only a dream. If this is a dream, I don’t wanna wake up, don’t wanna face the reality of tomorrow alone.
“Go have a shower. I’ll wait for you here.” He must have read it on my face as he brushes his fingers over my cheek and tilts his head. “Want me to come wash your hair?” He pushes my hair behind my ear and cups my jaw. Bringing his lips to mine, he kisses me lightly.
My hand slides up and tangles with his hair, and I deepen the kiss. No matter how many times I kiss Roman, he makes my toes curl. When he pulls away, I try to chase his kiss, and he chuckles. He gestures toward the bathroom with his eyes, and I shake my head and smile. I don’t feel like a shower now.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” The smirk on his face tells me I’ll be getting a little dirty first.
I grab a fist of his T-shirt and drag him across the bed with me. He comes willingly. I walk backward, not taking my eyes off him for even a second. He smiles down at me, then takes the back of my neck in his hand and pulls me to his lips and kisses me so hard, I feel it all the way to my toes.
He pulls away, his eyes boring deep into mine. “I’m not going anywhere, Mila.”
My heart explodes with all the love I have for this man. “I love you, Roman Valentine. You’re mine. Always and forever.”
His mouth crushes to mine and when I gasp, his tongue slides in. The taste of him has me intoxicated, wanting more.
I break the kiss for only a moment to pull up his T-shirt. He takes the hint and, in one swift movement, it’s over his head and on the floor. My chest rises in anticipation as he grabs the hem to my hoodie and takes it and my tee off, leaving me standing there in my blue lace bra and jeans.
His finger skims along the sensitive skin of my throat. Traces along the lace cup of my bra then trails down over my belly button and hooks inside the waistband of my jeans. He tugs, and my body falls into his, my hands going to his chest. Roman grunts in pleasure. He welcomes my touch . . . like it’s a drug and he can’t wait to get his next fix. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with him.
He lifts his hands to the sides of my face, brushing my hair back. Looking deep into my eyes, he says, “I love you Mila Hart. I always have and I always will.”
My body wants to show him just how badly I want him, and my soul longs to prove how much I love him. I reach for his jeans and pop the button open and the zipper. Sliding my hand past the waistband and into his boxers, I find his hard velvet cock and wrap my fingers around the thick length. He groans into my mouth as his hips flex into my fist. I stroke him, and he grows harder to my touch. He fucks my fist, moaning but never breaking his kiss from me.
He suddenly breaks away from my mouth to let out a guttural moan. “Fuck, Mila.” He holds my wrist to stop me from stroking him more, and I smirk up at him.
I watch as he tries to slow down; he must have been close. He looks down at me with those blue eyes, and I bite my lower lip as I grip him tighter.
His eyes widen as he lets out a shuddering breath. “Fuck, Mila. I want to be in you when I come. I want us to come together.”
My mouth drops open. Just hearing those words has me rubbing my thighs together. I need to be touched.
Roman might not be a man of many words, but that was before . . . He’s come a long way from the boy I once knew. The boy who pushed Hunter and Jace in the schoolyard and waited for me to hug him. I loved him back then, but the love I have for him now is so much bigger. I love the man that he is now.
But fuck . . . he’s been listening to Hunter’s dirty mouth. Not going to complain.
I reach up and grab his hair, pulling his face to mine and kiss him. I give him everything I can in that kiss, showing him how much I love him and how much I want him.
He flicks open my jeans, and I shimmy out of them until I’m standing there in my lace thong and bra. He takes a step back, and I try to follow him, but he puts his hand out to stop me.
His eyes roam my body, and I suck in a breath at the sight of fresh ink on his chest. I have no idea how I missed that when I took his shirt off. I guess I’d been a little preoccupied with something else. But my hand reaches out and goes to my name on his chest. The script is beautiful, and it blends in well with the other tattoos there . . . the daisy I drew him beside it.
I trace my finger along the letters. “Roman,” I whisper, holding back tears and trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
“I got it the day you left.” I let out a small sob, and he shakes his head. “Don’t cry. I didn’t want to make you cry.”
“I wasn’t leaving you. I never wanted to leave.”
Roman wraps his arms around me in an embrace, his warm body hard against mine. He smiles down at me, holding my hand now in his large one. “I know you weren’t leaving me, Mila. I wanted to wear your name. So everyone knows you belong to me.” He growls, and I feel it all the way to my core.
“I never got my tattoo,” I say with a pout.
His eyes growing darker, he wraps his hand around my throat, and my eyes widen. “I know exactly where I want to put it.” He slaps my ass, and I jump with a small yelp. He uses that to spin me around. My back is now flush with his front, and I can see us in the mirror. His erection rubs against my lower back.
His hand stays on my throat as his other traces down my body and under my thong. I let out a moan as his fingers slide through my already wet folds. His fingers find my clit, and he flick it with his thumb. Pleasure throbs through me, and my hips buck into his hand. But his hand around my throat never moves. It holds me. I’m pinned against him. And I love it.
One of my hand reaches back for his thigh and the other holds the crook of his arm as he strokes me slowly, never taking his eyes from me in the mirror. Just watching him doing this to me turns me on. I’m so close; I just need a little more. His fingers move down to my entrance, and he dips one in and rubs against that sweet spot inside me.
“Roman,” I gasp.
He pulls his finger out of me, and I whimper at the loss, but then he’s back on my clit. The guy is playing my body. He remembers every little sound and move I make and knows how to get me off every time.
He keeps up the pace on my bundle of nerves, knowing when to ease the pressure and when to give me more until I’m arching my back and silently screaming my release as he continues to strum my clit, prolonging the orgasm until I can’t take anymore. Now that I’m oversensitive and wrung out, he lets up.
I look up to see him in the mirror, his eyes on mine as he sucks his fingers and licks off my arousal. My core clenches with the need for him to be inside me.
He peels his fingers from my throat, and I move toward the counter, dropping my thong and removing my bra. Placing my hands on the counter, I arch my back, exposing myself to him. He groans at my display, reaching into his jeans and pulling out his thick cock.
He stokes himself a few times before dropping the rest of his clothes and standing naked behind me. His body is a work of art. All the tattoos . . . the abs. The scars he wears on the outside are his past. My name on his chest . . . that’s his future.
If I can prove I didn’t kill Malcolm.
I don’t want to think about what will happen if I end up behind bars for this. Roman needs me. And God, I need him so much right now.
His hand rests on my lower back as he lines up his dick with my entrance. I feel him nudge against me, and my eyes met his in the mirror. He grips my hip and slides in.
“Roman,” I gasp his name as he sinks all the way in. His eyes never leave mine as he pumps, in and out. Slowly. Then he smacks my ass cheek before slamming deep into me, and I gasp, my legs shaking at the pleasure.
He smacks the other ass cheek and slams into me again, and I find it hard to stand. “Holy shit,” I pant as he watches me.
Roman repeats the moves over and over until he grunts is release, and I tumble over the edge with him. His fingers dig into my hips as he releases inside of me, and I call his name. When his fingers find my clit, I call out again as I ride out another orgasm.
My arms shake with the strain of holding myself against the counter, but Roman doesn’t pull out of me. He leans over, wrapping his arm under my chest and over my shoulder, pulling me back, so I’m flush against his chest with his cock still nestled inside me.
He brushes his thumb over my nipple and whispers into my ear, “We need to fuck in front of the mirror more. That was hot to watch.”
My mouth drops open as my core throbs against his cock, and he groans.
Fuck . . . my boy has me speechless after only a few words.
