Mine to Keep

by Rhenna Morgan

  What did that mean?

  Her door jerked open, and he held out his hand. “Come. It is late and I do not want you exposed longer than necessary.”

  She hopped out with his help and doubled her strides to match his longer ones, not the least bit inclined to argue with his abrupt change in mood.

  “A word of warning,” he murmured. “Whoever visited your apartment went through your father’s house as well.”

  “You telling me it’s a wreck?”

  He nodded, slipped the key in the lock and pushed the door wide. He slid the lock into place as soon as the door was closed and motioned for her not to move. “Stay here.”

  He flipped on a light in the living room.

  “Whoa,” she said backing against the door.

  Shit was everywhere—and not in the usual messy sense her dad and brother were known for either. If something had once been on a shelf or a table, it was on the floor now, and not a single cushion for the chairs looked like it was salvageable. Roman flipped on the lights in the kitchen then checked the three bedrooms before returning to the living room. “Where does your father keep important documents?”

  “Got a particular kind in mind?”

  “Bank accounts. Mortgages. Investments.”

  At the mention of the last one, Bonnie couldn’t help but snicker. She shook her head and strolled down the hallway toward her father’s room. “I don’t think my dad knows how to spell investment. Let alone buy stock.”

  Just inside the door to his room, Bonnie paused and scratched the back of her head. Like the living room and every other room she’d passed, it looked like a tornado had hit. In fact, the only thing that looked somewhat normal were the dresser and nightstand her parents had bought before she was born. The finish was a weird white-wash style that had a pinkish tint behind it. The deep turquoise chair her mom had kept wedged in the corner had a slash deep in the center of it and the ugly as sin Southwest patterned bedspread was mostly pooled on the floor. Clothes were all over the place and drawers to the dresser in varied states of open.

  “Okay...” She twisted to the nightstand. “I’ll look in here and in the dresser. I can’t imagine he’s gonna have anything worthwhile, but it’s worth a shot.” She crouched next to the bed and opened the first drawer. “It’s a long shot, but you might want to check under the mattress. It’s as cliché as they come, but dad trusted his bed more than he trusted banks.”

  For the next thirty minutes they methodically went through everything. Every drawer. Every nook. Every cranny. She even checked the gun closet for any extra compartments he might have hidden something in, but every effort came back with a big fat zero.

  “This is hopeless.” With a heavy sigh, she closed the gun closet door and turned—only to step squarely into Roman.

  She tried to scramble backward, but he clasped his big hands on her shoulders before she could gain any distance and held her in place.

  “Sorry.” She didn’t dare look up. Couldn’t breathe between the gaping chasm of fruitlessness their search had created and the sheer power pulsing off Roman. She pressed her palms against his chest. “I’m okay. You can let me go.”

  He kept his silence, and his hands stayed right where they were—completely unmovable.

  And good Lordy, she felt him everywhere. Solid muscle. Heat and one-hundred percent man. Even his scent held a grip on her. As if that wintery bite that clung to his skin just had to get in on the action and hold her lungs hostage, too.

  “Roman...” She closed her eyes and curled her fingers into loose fists. It was either that, or let her hands explore the warmth and strength beneath them. “Seriously. You need to let me go.”

  His fingers tightened for a moment, then loosened as though he meant to release her. She braced for the loss of contact, relief and regret both wrestling for the upper hand.

  But instead of stepping away, he moved in closer. Anchored one hand low on her spine and pulled her body flush against his. His other hand palmed her nape. The rumbling depth of his voice was pure wickedness and fierce determination. “No, malen’kaya koroleva. I do not need to let you go.” His hand at her neck slid upward and his fingers tangled in her hair. He tugged her head backward, forcing her gaze to his.

  Holy wowzah—what a look. His steel gray eyes blazed and the harsh angles of his face were drawn tight with intensity. “What I want is quite the opposite, and I am done waiting.”

  He captured her gasp with his kiss. A hot demanding kiss as ruthless and cunning as the man himself. He didn’t ask for her participation. He took. Devoured the taste of her and demanded her response.

  And she all too easily acquiesced. Only an idiot would have fought it. Or someone void of a pulse, which was definitely not her. As it was, her heart thrummed its appreciation for each glide of his tongue against hers. For the low growl she earned when she wrapped her arms around his neck and how tiny and coveted she felt inside his arms. Protected even as his hand at the back of her head held her hostage to his sensual invasion.

  She could drown in this kind of passion. Could willingly surrender every want and need just to glory in the magnificent sensations. The heat of him. His scent and his taste. His dominance and complete command of her desire. It all rolled through her, dragging her deeper and deeper until the only thought that remained was a demand for more.

  He ripped his mouth from hers and a tiny mewl slipped past her lips. Her fingers tightened against his neck and her pulse pounded in her throat so loudly it seemed to echo in her head.

  No, not in her head. The pounding was at the front door and matched the incessant rhythm of her heart. A fact Roman clearly had acknowledged long before her, given the way his head was cocked toward the hallway, listening. His growl was that of a wolf interrupted from his feast and none too happy about it, but his gaze when he refocused on her was scorching hot. “You will wait here. I will deal with whoever it is.”

  An unspoken And we will finish what we started seemed to hover in the space between them, and as tight as he clamped those lush lips of his together she halfway expected him to reconsider leaving her at all. But in another second, he did just that, striding toward the hallway in a way that made her pity the person on the other side of her father’s front door and leaving her shaking with loss.

  Hold up.

  Someone was at the front door.

  Her father’s front door.

  Geez, Bonnie. Pull your head out already.

  She hustled after Roman, totally disregarding his instructions in favor of curiosity and a fresh wave of hope.

  The banging started again just as Roman jerked the door open.

  A woman’s shrill voice fired back in an instant. “Where is he? Where is that no good son of a bitch? I wanna talk to him now.” The voice was somewhat familiar, but no face came to mind. Judging from the tone of it, it was someone younger, so the son of a bitch in question was undoubtedly her brother. Whoever it was, was clearly too pissed off to realize who they were yelling at.

  Roman didn’t seem to care how angry she was and replied back with deadly calm. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Kevin’s girlfriend, Jennette, that’s who. Who the fuck are you?”

  Stunned by the fact that Kevin had actually fired up any kind of a relationship, Bonnie muttered aloud without thinking. “Jennette? Jennette Simpson?”

  Roman’s gaze cut to Bonnie, and he opened his mouth, a reprimand no doubt queued up on his tongue.

  Bonnie ducked beneath his arm and faced her brother’s alleged girlfriend. “That’s Roman and he’s with me.”

  “Thank fucking God. Someone with an actual head on their shoulders.” She sneered at Roman then barked at Bonnie. “Where is that asshole?”

  “Uh, if the two of you are a thing now, then you’ve got better odds of knowing than me. He’s been gone over a week, and I can’t find him.”
/>   “Hmmph. Probably out banging Sarah Conrad the way I hear it.”

  Eww. Sarah Conrad was a desperate measure even for Kev’s questionable standards. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because Missy Reynolds said she saw the two of them weekend before last at The Nomad right before they left together.”

  “You sure it was that far back?”

  “A week before last Saturday night. Missy was working tables, and that idiot brother of yours sure as shit hasn’t called me since, so yeah. I’m sure. Now, where is he?”

  Bonnie glanced back at Roman, the frown on his face a solid guarantee he was furious she’d intervened. “Like I said, we don’t know.”

  For the first time since Roman had opened the door, Jennette seemed to lose some of her bluster. Her gaze narrowed and volleyed from Bonnie to Roman and back to Bonnie again. “Something happen?”

  Roman palmed Bonnie’s shoulder and gave a nearly imperceptible squeeze, but Bonnie didn’t need the unspoken message to exercise caution. Jennette might have been a few years ahead of Bonnie in school, but her penchant for gossip was legendary. “Not that I know of, no. But it would be nice if I could track him down and get my money. I loaned him forty bucks around the same time Missy saw him, and I want it back.”

  Jamming her hands in the pockets of her metallic puffer vest, Jennette scoffed and shook her head. “Yeah, good luck with that. Your brother goes through money faster than my daddy’s old Chevy goes through gas.” She peeked at Roman once more, then zeroed in on Bonnie. “When you see that piece of crap brother of yours, do me a favor, and tell him to stay the hell away from me and my place. If he wants Sarah Conrad he can have her.”

  “Only if you promise to call me if you see him before I do. I want my money.”

  Rolling her eyes, Jennette turned and stormed toward the Honda Civic parked in front of Roman’s truck.

  She hadn’t even made it halfway to the street when Roman pulled Bonnie out of the doorway and shut the door with more force than necessary. He turned Bonnie and backed her against it. The way he crowded close, it was hard to tell if he was going to pick up where he’d left off in the bedroom, or read her the riot act. “I told you to stay where you were.”

  Okay, so riot act it was. But she wasn’t putting up with it. It was bad enough she’d nearly climbed him like a tree in the bedroom—even if his kissing skills were off the charts awesome. “I know Jennette. No way she’d do anything but rant with you, but I at least had a shot of getting information out of her.”

  He cupped the side of her neck and stroked the artery there with his thumb.

  Her pulse leapt at the contact, every nerve ending beneath his calloused touch screaming its approval. “Don’t do that again,” she said too breathlessly for comfort.

  He didn’t smile, exactly. More like looked at her as though torn between deadly intent and debauchery. “Don’t do what again?”

  Kiss my brains out.

  Curl my toes.

  Scramble my wits.

  “No more kissing,” she said. “I’m having a hard enough time keeping my feet grounded in reality with everything that’s going on. I don’t need you making that harder than it is.”

  His eyebrows dipped into a deep V and some of the intensity slipped from his face, replaced with a mix of surprise and consideration. His features firmed almost as quickly and he cupped the back of her head. “You are right. Clarity is important. We will deal with that. Now.”

  He stepped away, leaving an emotional gully between them.

  Her heart practically swan-dived into it, disappointment, hurt and more than a little anger swirling in her belly. Hard to justify the latter, though. After all, she’d been the one to lay the boundary. It wasn’t fair to be pissed at a guy who actually listened—even if a part of her hated how easily he’d agreed.

  “Are there any other locations we should search?” he asked, the epitome of a respectful businessman.

  “No. If we didn’t find anything in his room, there’s nothing to find.”

  “Then is there anything you need before we go?”

  Her pride would be nice to have back. Maybe a rewind button so she didn’t have to live with the memory of how greedily she’d clung to him. She shook her head instead. “I’m good.”

  A small smile played on his lips, a knowingness in his eyes she couldn’t quite figure out how to process. “No, vozlyublennaya. You are not good. But you will be. I will see to it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  His brother was right. Roman had fallen victim to assumptions. Had drawn conclusions based on external evidence alone and surmised a lack of interest on Bonnie’s part. That the connection he’d forged with her the night she’d curled tightly beside him had been nothing more than a temporary human need for comfort. Why she’d acted indifferent since then, he couldn’t say. Perhaps Kir had been right about that as well and she simply didn’t know how to make her interest known. Perhaps it was outright fear of rejection or assumptions on her own part as to how their family operated.

  But she wasn’t indifferent. Far from it. The kiss they’d shared and the way she’d fought to keep him close after they’d been interrupted had irrefutably proven it. She hadn’t just responded to his touch and his kiss. She’d ignited for him. Unfurled the way a roaring fire licked hungrily against the sky.

  He wanted more of it. Wanted to feel those questing hands of hers on his skin and explore her curves for days.

  He exited the highway and turned onto St. Charles, his home and the chance to be alone with her once more—free of distractions and surrounded by comfort—beating at his patience.

  Now that he thought about it, it was before the kiss that her pretense had fallen. The moment she’d turned from her father’s closet and found herself toe-to-toe with him. It’d taken a second—all of a swift, indrawn breath for the platonic facade to shatter. She’d trembled against him. Had refused to meet his stare until he’d forced the issue.

  And fuck if he’d ever forget the impact when he saw her eyes. Wide. Her pupils dilated and the green around them deep as the towering spruce trees from his homeland. He doubted she even realized how naturally her lips had parted for him.

  But he’d taken the chance. Had thrown caution to the wind in a most uncustomary way and reveled in her taste. In her moans and the soft press of her breasts against him.

  Every second had been worth it. And as soon as the garage door was down and the security system armed, he had every intention of indulging in much, much more.

  In the passenger seat, Bonnie sat silent. Not once on the drive home had she tried to engage in conversation or deflect whatever emotions held her almost immovable with her typical snarky remarks. He’d confused her with his words before they’d left her father’s house. Accepted that she’d likely interpreted them to mean he would not engage again in any physical contact. Whether it made him a mercenary of the cruelest nature or not, he planned to use her confusion—her faulty conclusions and her natural inclination to expect the worst-case scenario—to his advantage. If she thought he’d accepted distance, cornering her in his room where he could make the truth unequivocally known would be that much easier.

  She was his.

  His to provide for. His to protect.

  His to keep.

  The second he’d kissed her he’d known it. Felt it on the most primitive level, all the whispered clues given by his instinctual self from the day he’d met her instantly roaring with certainty.

  He punched the garage door remote and pulled into the drive. He’d barely put the gearshift in park when her hand curled around the door’s latch and jerked it upward. “I’m beat. Gonna call it night.” She slid out of the seat like the hounds of hell were within biting distance and slammed the door shut.

  He couldn’t blame her. In a way, she was right to run. He was a devil. A collector of souls with
more blood on his hands than he could ever wash away or atone for.

  But he was past the point of caring. She would know him and all of his secrets—just as soon as he won her heart. Whatever it took, he would get there. Starting with a very physical show of his devotion.

  He caught up with her at the back door, the bolt for which she did not yet have a key blocking her sprint for distance. Given how she glared at the lock and crossed her arms across her chest rather than watch his approach, the derailment of her plans was met with much consternation.

  Crowding unnecessarily close behind her, he slowly slid the key home and savored her soft, flowery scent. He lowered his head so his soft words were uttered close to her ear. “You’re not running from me, are you, vozlyublennaya?”

  “Me?” She started to turn and give him a sassy glare, but seemed to realize the action would put her mouth too close to his and scowled at the back door instead. “No. Why would I run from you?”

  He slid the bolt free.

  Her hand closed around the knob all of a heartbeat later, and she quickly entered the kitchen. She slowed her steps as soon as she got beyond reaching distance and feigned a casual pace toward the hallway exit at the far end and the stairs beyond it.

  With the door to the garage shut and bolted, Roman thumbed up the remote app for his security system on his phone and armed it, all the while keeping his own leisurely pace not far behind her. “You’re sure you’re not running? You seem...shaken. Jumpy.”

  She started up the stairs, glancing over one shoulder when Roman did the same. She shook her head, eyes focused on the carpet as she cleared the second story landing and rounded for the flight to the third floor. “Just tired.”

  “Hmm.” A decidedly mild response compared to the building hunger inside him. Only a few more steps and he’d have her where he wanted her. Where he could show her in the most tactile way possible his exact intent. “I thought you said you were accustomed to much later nights. It’s only just after midnight.”

  Just three steps from the top, she dared another glance behind her. “Well, I’m not tired as in sleepy. Just need to unwind. You know...decompress a bit.”