“You could have called me.”
Pulling the other cord free, she carefully set the claylike substance on the workspace in front of her. “Well, yeah. But I didn’t know what you were doing and didn’t want to interrupt anything, so I waited.”
Patience. That was another thing he appreciated about her. Yes, she liked to debate and never failed to ask questions, but she didn’t panic. She reasoned things out. Held herself calm in the middle of a storm. He nodded at the varied small boxes on his table and the tools placed all around her. “I take it Aryeh found an eager student?”
“Dude. You would not believe how cool this stuff he gave me to work with is.” Motioning to the chair on her left, she spun back to her work and picked up the gray ball in front of her. “He started me with this stuff called gold metal clay. It’s actually gold with clay binding so you can get your design in the form you want. Then you use a kiln to melt the clay away so you’re just left with gold.” Her head snapped up. “I hope you don’t mind, but I plugged Mr. Frannelly’s kiln in next to the sink. It’s small, though. I can move it.”
“You can put it wherever you want. We can make one of the bedrooms upstairs your workroom if you like. Then you can leave your things out and work whenever it suits you. Also, that is not Mr. Frannelly’s kiln.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“Whose is it?”
He paused, trying desperately hard not to laugh. “It’s yours, moya koroleva. All of these tools and supplies are yours to work with. Whenever and however you choose.”
She held herself completely still for one heartbeat, then another. Slowly, her gaze trailed the items on the table. “He didn’t tell me all this was mine. I just assumed he was loaning it to me. Giving me something to learn with.” Her attention drifted back to him. “You bought them for me?”
He nodded.
Rather than argue, she nodded and carefully set her clay back down on the white tile surface she’d been working on. “Thank you.”
Not an argument. Not a list of reasons why she didn’t deserve what he’d given her or a demand he return them. Just a simple yet genuine note of appreciation. Perhaps she’d begun to move toward acceptance. Not just of the new life he intended for her, but for what he wanted for them both. “It was my pleasure.”
Grasping the white cloth beside her tools, she wiped her fingers and asked, “Wanna talk about your day?”
No. He didn’t. Dead ends were hard for him to swallow on the best of days. When they impacted Bonnie, they were intolerable. Still, she’d opened the door on the topic. Not walking through it would only make things more difficult later. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t cushion the blow in a better environment where he could hold her while they talked. “I do not relish talking about today, no, but if I shared it with you beside me, perhaps it would be more palatable.” He stood and held out his hand. “Come. It’s late. We can talk upstairs and then you can show me what programs you like to watch.”
She grinned and placed her hand in his, standing as she spoke. “Is that a Russian’s version of Let’s Netflix and chill?”
“Vozlyublennaya.” He pulled her closer and teased his mouth against hers, the need to take first and talk later nearly overriding his control. “When I want you naked and under me, there will be no pretense in getting you there.”
A shiver wriggled through her and her voice dropped to that husky tone he’d come to crave. “Man, you really don’t mince words, do you?”
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
“Well, then.” He forced himself to release her and urged her toward the hallway and the stairs beyond with a hand just above her perfect ass. “It seems there is no issue, is there?”
“Hmph,” she said with a toss of her fiery hair and a smirk as she went up the stairs.
He echoed the sentiment with his own harrumph, but it came out as more of a growl. Hard for anyone to blame him, though. Her cotton pajama bottoms were no thicker than a soft T-shirt and clung perfectly to her beautiful ass, enticing him with the sexy sway of her hips as she took each step.
In his room, one of the two lamps on either nightstand cast the large room in a warm glow. While she’d still been mostly asleep when he’d left this morning, she’d made the bed at some point in the day and tidied up the clothes he’d eagerly rid her of the night before. Even the throw pillows he detested were neatly arranged atop the comforter.
Not giving her time to reach her side of the bed, he snatched her wrist, sat on the bed and pulled her across his lap so she was nestled close.
“Oh, man,” she said staring at his boots. “I’m thinking two days is going to be the max our relationship can go if you’re thinking shoes on the bed is okay.”
“They are not touching the sheets.”
“No, but this comforter is silk, which means you’re not gonna be able to toss it in the washer downstairs without ruining it. Do you have any idea how much it costs to get one of these things dry-cleaned?”
He didn’t. He’d never really bothered with a comforter or the other nice finishing touches in his home until Evette had talked him into letting her decorate. So long as he had clean sheets and a blanket he’d been happy. He grunted, set her beside him and shed himself of his boots and socks. As soon as they were off, he stretched back out, but this time rolled toward her, propped himself on his elbow and settled one of his legs between hers. “I agree. This arrangement is much more comfortable.”
She chuckled at that. Skimming one hand around his waist and another up the outer side of his arm, she let out a contented sigh. “Well, if it makes you more comfortable, that’s not a bad thing. I’m kind of interested in hearing how you spend your days...even if it wasn’t something you enjoyed.”
He needed to focus. To stop staring at her lush mouth and say what needed to be said before neither of them could think at all. He focused on her collarbone and traced the fragile line with his fingertips. “Most of my days are spent visiting properties. Reviewing financials with managers, gathering deposits where necessary and touching base with our construction foremen.”
“You did all those things today?”
He shook his head, still not able to look at her.
As if she sensed his hesitation, she cupped the side of his face and gentled her voice. “Did something happen?”
Never in his life had he had such difficulty finding his voice. The right words. He forced his gaze to hers and steeled himself for whatever response came. “There are no more avenues to pursue in finding your father and brother.”
She held his stare. Studied his features as though searching for some sub context to go with his message. “You think I’ll judge you for that, don’t you?” Not a real question. More a statement posed in a rhetorical nature.
“You came to our family for help. How could you not cast judgment?”
Her features softened, more so than he’d ever seen beyond their physical intimacy, and a soft, understanding smile tugged the corners of her lips. “Roman, I’d be with my family wherever they are right now if you hadn’t saved me. Or dead. You’ve protected me. Fed me. Given me a safe place to stay and completely spoiled me along the way. I’ve been dealing with my dad and brother’s shit for years. Trust me when I tell you, I have zero issue labeling them shortsighted idiots. But you? How could I ever judge you as anything other than a kind and considerate human being?”
Because he wasn’t. With her, yes. And with his family as well. But with others? “There are many who would never tie those words to me.”
She hesitated only a heartbeat. One tiny, supercharged moment in time before she uttered, “What words would they use?”
It was too soon. Too fragile of a time between them. Too risky to unveil his past before he’d build a stronger bond. Shown her what life by his side would be like.
�
��Roman.” She traced the line of his jaw. His cheekbone and his brow. “You know who I am. Know all my secrets. Yesterday, you asked me if I was brave enough to know you. Well, I’m asking. And not because I’m afraid, but because I want to really know the man who’s turning my world upside down in ways I’d never even imagined.” She paused long enough to press her hand above his heart. “Tell me. What words would they use?”
For years, shame and guilt had plagued him. Weighted his soul no matter how many good things he’d done trying to earn redemption. But never had they cut as deep as they did in this moment.
His mouth went dry and his lungs ached for lack of air. But she deserved the truth. Deserved nothing more than the same fearlessness she’d shown him.
He swallowed around the fear knotting his throat and squeezed her hip, willing her to understand. Praying for a miracle. “They would call me a killer.”
Chapter Eighteen
A killer.
Deep down, Bonnie had known the truth. Had braced for just such an answer in the quiet while she’d worked on the gold metal clay.
But hearing it—seeing the pain behind his eyes as he made his admission and feeling the tension in him made her want to weep. To dig beneath his flesh and muscle and find the ugly stain that clearly marked him and cut it free.
He hurt. Ached. It was written on every line on his face. But more than that, she sensed fear. Bone-chilling fear the likes of which she doubted she’d ever feel in her life. He might be a confessed murderer, but in that moment he held her with the utmost tenderness and gazed down at her like she was his sole redemption.
She sucked in a slow but shaky breath and squeezed his shoulders in what she hoped conveyed encouragement. “I’m listening.”
Disbelief flared behind his steel-colored eyes. “Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“Why are you not furious? Not rebuking me?”
Logic wanted her to. Or maybe it was just the fear and powerlessness created by her family, urging her to create some kind of distance. But all she could think about—all she could hear in her head—was what Cassie had shared about Kir. What Evie had shared about Sergei. They both knew beyond the shadow of a doubt what their men were capable of, but they’d made their decisions to be with them based on who they were at their core. On their current actions, not their pasts.
“Would you kill without a reason? If you knew that it was wrong?”
“I have.”
“When?”
“In Russia. It was what I was known for. My skills were always called upon by my vor when a situation could not be contained or a rival moved too close to his territory.”
“You never told your boss no?”
He shook his head. “It was not my place to ask. It was my job to act.”
“But only on someone’s order.”
He acknowledged her statement with a slow dip of his head.
“And here?”
“Not without provocation, no. It is why I moved here with Sergei. I knew he was different. Knew that he would bring honor and fairness to his family.” His gaze darkened. “But I would kill without thought if anyone dared hurt my family.” His thumb grazed her temple. “If they dared hurt you.”
It was the absolute truth. Even if she hadn’t witnessed what he was capable of the night she’d been attacked, the certainty was there burning behind his gaze. A vow she felt to her very bones.
Could she accept that? Accept him and all the ferocity that made him who he was? Take the good as well as the bad just as he had with her? True, she was no murderer, but she was a handful in her own right. A hellion that could cuss more proficiently than the men who worked for him and would rather wear boots than heels any day. A redneck who’d barely gotten her GED and knew her way around pubs better than she could navigate a mall or a charity event.
Yes.
It was that simple. Her heart knew him, with or without the details that made up his history. Had experienced his goodness and sensed the weight that plagued his view of himself. “That’s why I’m not furious. Why I can’t judge you for the things you’ve done. Because you’re a good person. A good man who did the best he could with what he had to work with growing up. No different than what I did.”
“But your family—”
“There is no comparison between you and my family. Not even a little bit. And if you want me to believe that I can and should be a part of your life, you’re going to have to believe that I accept you as you are. The past as much as the future you’re building.”
For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed speechless. Tongue-tied with wonder and gripped so tightly with emotion she halfway expected him to combust.
“You want to stay.” Said as though the words were meant to convince himself rather than gain clarity from her. “You want to be with me.”
“I want today. I want tomorrow. I want to explore where this goes and do it so we’re both free to learn each other without obligation.”
His brow pinched into a hard V and his voice drew gruff. “You do not want to be my bride?”
She couldn’t have helped the chuckle if she’d tried. His expression was too priceless. A boy’s pout transposed on a man’s handsome face. “I want to be with you. Learn more about you. And after we’ve taken some time and both of us feel certain, I want you to ask me to marry you. Not assume I’m a forgone conclusion.”
He smiled at that. The nefarious grin of a man well accustomed to earning what he wanted come hell or high water. “You want to be courted.”
“No!”
He nodded. “Yes, you will be courted. It is fitting.” He cupped the side of her face, pure determination marking his gray eyes as he lowered his head. “Fitting for my Queen.”
His lips claimed hers before she could argue. Swept her beyond words and thought and reason with a single stroke of his tongue against hers. Damn, but he tasted good. A unique flavor that made her think of cinnamon and sultry nights. That worked her body like a key and made everything inside her unlock and unfurl for his attention.
He shifted and gave her a bit more of his weight, trailing hungry licks and nips along her jawline and down her neck. “It was good to find you at my table when I came home.”
Good.
Yes.
Everything he was doing was good. Especially the hard length of him straining behind his jeans and pressing perfectly against her clit.
His kisses moved lower, following her top’s neckline. He nudged the fabric farther and teased the swell of one breast with his tongue. “I like hearing about your day and seeing your smile when I walk through the door.”
For crying out loud, why was he talking? He needed to be doing. Rolling his hips against hers. Taking her nipple in his mouth. Losing his clothes so she could feel him skin to skin. Anything except talking.
She wriggled, trying to gain the friction she wanted, but he pulled back, shifted to his knees and eyed her with pure wickedness. He slipped his hands beneath her tank and lifted it up and over her head. “But there is one other benefit that will be my undoing. The temptation that will earn me much grief from my brothers.” Just as quickly, he peeled her bottoms down her hips and tossed them to the floor.
Cool air assailed her skin. Sent goose bumps skittering in all directions. “Wh-what’s that?”
The stuttered words were the best she could do, too much of her mind gripped by the sheer fascination of watching him stand and shed his clothes. She should have been ashamed. Or at least a little remorseful for the way she ogled him every time he was naked, but she could no more stop herself than she could stop breathing. He was a visual feast. A dark Viking who knew exactly the impact he had on her and took great pride in letting her look her fill.
He crawled toward her, the intensity and power that clung to him enveloping her the closer he got. “At the end of th
e day, I will always have this.”
Heat. Pure, decadent, masculine heat. It blanketed her chest to toes and fired the same instinctive need and odd peace she’d wrestled since his first kiss. She couldn’t explain it. Had yet to even fully accept whatever it was that made her come alive beneath his touch, let alone find a way to fight its pull.
But it was there. Undeniable and ravenous for more.
She closed her eyes and savored as he explored her. Surrendered to his calloused, yet tender touch along her belly, hips and thighs. Delighted in each teasing kiss against her tight breasts and the wet heat of his mouth drawing on her taut nipples. All she knew—all she wanted—was him. His warmth. His passion and the surreal connection that burned between.
This was what it felt like to be adored. Revered. Valued and loved.
He painted a leisurely path down her belly with his lips and tongue. Greedily nuzzled the top of her sex and inhaled deep before fastening his mouth to her aching clit and suckling deep.
She bucked against him. Dug her heels into his back and shamelessly grasped the back of his head.
His approving growl rattled through her. Mingled with each insistent slash of his tongue and pushed her higher. Her belly tightened and the muscles in her sex quivered, poised to crest on a magnificent orgasm. “Roman...”
He pulled away and sat back on his heels, taking her release with him.
“Roman! I was close!”
His smile was completely unrepentant. The confession of a man who knew full well of the state he’d left her in and took great pleasure in her sexual frustration. “I know.”
“And you stopped?”
“Yes.” He leaned toward the nightstand and pulled a condom from the drawer.
“What? Why?”
Unhurriedly, he rolled the condom into place, his gaze never leaving hers. “Because I wanted you to know...that feeling—that ache—is what I feel for you every day.” He tugged her closer and draped her thighs over his, fully exposing her for his admiring perusal. He slicked the tip of his cock through her slit and notched himself inside. “When I look at you.” Keeping the tentative connection, he leaned forward. “When I touch you, or hear your voice.” He captured her hands, threaded his fingers with hers and braced their joined hands on either side of her head. “I ache.”
Mine to Keep Page 21