Thieving Hearts

by Nikita Slater

  “Don’t you fucking dare grieve for him,” Roman snarled, shaking her hard.

  Katie’s head snapped like a rag doll's causing the yacht and the ocean to spin around her. Roman lifted her as though she weighed nothing, turned her so she was facing him and forced her to straddle his lap. He snaked an arm up her back and held her by the back of the neck, forcing her head up to his. He used his other arm to wrap around her waist and anchor her against his incredibly hard body. She whimpered and squirmed against him.

  “You will not mourn for the man that blackmailed you. Turned you into a ghost. I did the world a fucking favour, Katie. Do you hear me?” he snarled in her face.

  She knew what he was doing. In his own way, he was begging her to tell him he hadn’t fucked up and killed someone she loved. Roman couldn’t handle all the twisted emotions that came with love. Because he hadn’t ever been loved. Katie’s family had always been close.

  When Dexter was still alive he'd told them about his best friend. Roman had spent the first twelve years of his life in Juarez, Mexico. The son of a sex slave and a big-time drug cartel guy. Though his upbringing was anything but loving, it had been filled with wealth and privilege, with the expectation that he’d take over the family business. A competing faction had taken out Roman’s entire family. Roman had escaped with a few low-level drug dealers to the States and joined the gang where he’d met Dexter.

  She nodded her head against his, fighting the tears. “I hear you,” she whispered. She felt some of the tension leave him.

  She wasn’t going to cry for Colin. He was a weasel. A disgusting bastard that deserved whatever he got. She cried for Roman. For the beautiful, fucked up, lost soul of a man that deserved so much better than her. He’d taken her penance. He’d blackened his soul just a little bit more for a woman that didn’t deserve his adoration.

  She felt his body tense up once more, felt his chest expand as he prepared to ask her the question she knew she wouldn’t be able to answer. He took her by the neck and pulled her head away from his so he could see her blue eyes when he spoke.

  “What did he have on you that kept you going back every month? Why would the fucking FBI get involved, Katie?”

  Her knees tightened involuntarily on either side of his legs. Heat flared in his eyes. She held onto that look. Knowing it was about to turn ice cold. She clenched her fingers against his arms, preparing for his reaction.

  “I can't tell you,” she whispered.

  As she predicted, any warmth in his eyes turned immediately to ice. His hands dug into her soft skin until she knew there would bruises. She didn’t think he even realized what he was doing. He yanked her forward on his lap, slamming her chest against his. She brought her hands up to put some distance between them, but he pulled her arms around her back and held them in one hand. He gripped her jaw with the other.

  “Won’t,” he growled.

  Her breasts lifted and fell quickly with her gasping breaths. She was completely trapped against him, her legs spread across his on the bench. Though she was terrified, she knew her pussy was wetting the bikini bottom she’d pulled on earlier. She desperately hoped he couldn’t feel the wetness soaking through the denim of his jeans.

  She licked her lips and forced herself to focus on the man who was threatening her well-being in a very elemental way. She needed to put sexy thoughts away for the moment. “Either way, I’m not telling you, Roman.”

  She cried out in actual terror at the look that crossed his face. It was a look she’d never seen before on Roman’s face. It looked like instant death. She imagined it was similar to what Colin, and many others, had experienced right before lights out. Katie began struggling in earnest, trying to pull her arms away from Roman's grip and twisting frantically on his lap. She knew right away that she’d done the wrong thing. That she was inflaming the big man past the point of reason.

  He stood abruptly, his hand circling her neck. He shook her and then pulled her into the heat of his body. She felt his cock hard against her stomach. His voice was harsh as he spoke, his accent much thicker than usual. “Refuse to give me anything, Katie, then I am forced to make assumptions. I will treat you like the puta you act. Since I took care of your problem, you can make payments to me instead. Go downstairs and spread those legs, I’ll show you what a real cock looks like.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Katie smashed her fist into the side of his face. She didn’t have a lot of leverage, he was holding her too close, but her closed fist probably hurt enough to get the point across. He didn’t even flinch. He just grabbed her small fist, wrenched her arm down, flung her around and forced her forward down the passageway toward the main cabin.

  “You bastard!” she cried out as she stumbled forward into a wall. He checked her fall so she wouldn't hurt herself. She was so angry and hurt by his words she could barely walk. She collapsed onto the shiny floor, panting and struggling, trying to get her arm back. Roman was much too strong, she didn't stand a chance. He went down onto one knee behind her, crouching over her body, owning her. He sunk his teeth into the skin over her collarbone. She cried out, arching back against his chest. Moisture flooded her core and her eyes flew open in surprise as she stared up into his evil expressionless face.

  “Get up,” he snapped, yanking her to her feet with a hard hand on her bicep.

  Katie stumbled to her feet. He shoved her forward, forcing her the rest of the way down the hall, back into the master stateroom. He rounded the corner and flung her onto the bed. Katie collapsed against the beautiful bedspread and rolled over to look up at his hulking form. His face was unreadable, but his eyes told a different story. His eyes were glowing with fury and possession. It was the same war she’d seen earlier. He finally had his love where he wanted her, but he was seeing her through new eyes. God, he was going to hurt her if he didn't slow down!

  Katie put a hand up and said softly, “Please, Roman, can we just talk about this? You don’t want to do this.”

  He raised his eyebrows, his eyes never leaving her body. His hands went to the buttons on his shirt where he began slowly undoing them one at a time.

  “I’ve wanted to do this since before you were legal, Katie. Let’s don't pretend I’m the good guy here,” he sneered down at her. “Never forget where I come from.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. His words, his actions were so cruel. But the Roman she’d known over the years, the one that had held her after her brother’s death, the one that bought and read every one of her school textbooks, was not the man who was threatening her now. How was she going to get through to him? She pushed herself up as he wrenched the collared shirt off his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor. The breadth of sinew and muscle held her bound for a moment. She didn't stand a chance physically against this man. He dropped his hands to the button on his jeans. Her eyes flared in panic and she began backing up on the bed.

  “Roman… please,” she begged desperately. “I… I’ve never been with anyone but Colin…”

  He frowned, staring down at her, then shook his head. “You're lying.”

  “Why would I lie?” she cried throwing up her hands.

  “To stop me from taking the payment you owe a dead man.”

  She gasped and flung herself off the other side of the bed. “Stop saying that! I don't owe you anything,” she snapped at him.

  He shrugged, muscles rippling down his shoulders and torso. Her panicked eyes followed the movement, tracing the tattoos that flowed across his chest and arms. A simple, stark cross stood out directly in the middle of his chest. Apprehension and need built within her, creating pulses deep within her stomach.

  “Don’t matter how you come to my bed, Katie, so long as you get there. Done waiting for you, woman,” he said, his eyes glowing at her from across the distance of the bed.

  It was a big bed, but in that moment, it felt tiny. Roman was such a large man; his broad frame could eat up any room. She’d always found him so solid and comforting. Yes, a little
scary, but that scariness had never really been turned her way. A small part of her knew that one day his focus would land completely on her. It had always been inevitable. And truth be told, she’d been waiting in breathless anticipation. But not like this. Not with the death of her husband and independence all in one stroke. Not with the terrifying spectre of her career hanging over their heads. He had no idea what he’d done.

  His hands landed on his belt. His eyes never left hers as he unbuckled the metal and pulled the thick leather through the loops. She lunged sideways toward the ensuite. Of course, she trapped herself in the washroom and his much longer strides ate up the distance between them. She ran up against the wall and whirled around to face him. His expression didn't change as he reached for her.

  “Don’t do this, Roman!” she begged as he hooked an arm around her waist and whirled her out of the corner as though she weighed nothing. She flung her arm out to grab hold of something, but only managed to sweep the tiny vase of flowers off the counter and onto the floor, shattering the crystal.

  Roman ignored the glass crunching beneath his shoes, only lifting her off her feet so she wouldn’t be cut as he strode out of the washroom. He flung her down on the bed and fell on top of her before she could roll away from him, pinning her arms over her head with one hand. He took her jaw in the other hand and forced her to look at him. His familiar, dark face hovered over hers, so close his breath shivered over her cheek. He ducked his face and pressed his lips to hers, pressing them hard against her soft mouth until she was gasping.

  He lifted his head and stared down at her, frustration and lust etching his hard, stoic features. “Kiss me, Katie. This is going to happen, make it good for yourself.”

  She glared up at him and pressed her lips together. She’d loved and hated Roman for seventeen years. The big, dark man fucked with her head in a way no one else could. Maybe she wanted him, but she wasn’t going to give it up to him because he demanded it. He could either take what he wanted from her by force, like everyone else, or he could treat her properly. She jerked her chin in his grasp. His fingers tightened.

  When he didn’t let go, she did something she’d never in her life contemplated doing to another human being, let alone one as terrifying as Roman Valdez. Perhaps it was her driving need for pain and punishment, or the same thing that made her climb high buildings and break into impossible-to-break-into spaces. With her heart pounding crazily in her chest, she spat in his face.

  “Kiss my ass,” she snapped at him defiantly, trembling under the force of her emotions.

  His eyes widened in surprise before narrowing. His entire body tensed over top of hers. She knew any other person in the world would die for such an insult. Her heart thumped in anticipation as she waited for his reaction, she’d just spat on the son of a cartel boss. He brought his leg up the bed, scraping it along her thigh. She felt the wrap sliding up her leg as his jean clad leg landed heavily across her body, trapping her. He let go of her jaw and slowly wiped the spit from his cheek with two long fingers. His dark eyes never left hers as he licked the spit from his own fingers.

  “I’ll get to your ass later, baby. Right now, I have other things I wasn't to kiss first.” His dark voice washed over her like honey, sticky and smooth.

  Katie’s mouth opened in a tiny gasp. An unexpected punch of pleasure went zinging through her and her hips lifted ever so slightly in response. Her eyes flared in reaction. God, she hoped he didn’t notice. But of course he did. His own eyes flickered down her prone body. This intense chemistry was exactly what he was playing on with her. This is why he was driving her, pushing her for answers. Because he knew she would fight back and it would give him an excuse to put his hands on her.

  Without warning, he shoved his fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste his own saliva combined with hers. She tried to snap her teeth closed, but he released her hands and gripped her jaw in one hand, shoving the fingers of his other hand deep into the recesses of her mouth. She gurgled and choked on his fingers, arching in his grip, trying to buck him off. She brought her hands down and gripped his biceps, trying to push him away, but it was like trying to move a boulder. Using his grip on her jaw, he twisted her head to the side.

  “Never forget who I am,” he growled in her ear, licking the skin of her neck before sinking his teeth into the tender skin beneath her ear. “I am not the good guy, here to save you, baby.”

  He breathed heavily against her, thrusting his jean-clad erection into the cradle of her thighs, forcing her to feel every inch of him against the thin fabric of her wrap and bathing suit. She moaned in both fear and arousal as he shoved his fingers in and out of her mouth, showing her exactly how he would love to use her face.

  “You need to be more careful, because I’ll hurt you. I’m going to fuck you and maybe fuck you up if you keep fighting me. You understand, mujer?” he breathed against her, biting his way down her neck.

  “Why, Roman?” she asked when he took his fingers out of her mouth and dropped his hand down her body. Her voice was a thin cry of desperation. “I th… thought you cared. All these years… you don't care at all.”

  “You were always mine,” he growled against her. “I just waited. You're the one that fucked it up. Went and got married. Fucked up what we could’ve had.”

  Her body moved with him in supplication, desperately wanting the man on a primitive level, while her mind fragmented at the harsh treatment. His harsh words. She couldn’t believe the man that had treated her so tenderly over the years could be this way. None of her thousands of fantasies of Roman had ever played out this way. Fantasy Roman had always been so tender. Had healed her many wounds. She was such a fool.

  A scream escaped her lips as he dug his fingers into the knotted wrap at her waist and tore it from her body. The fabric tore easily, parting like tissue under his brutal hands. She felt a slight sting where the strands whipped her bare skin before falling away to the floor. She felt him moving down her body and knew that he would soon see her legs. Shame flooded her. Desperately she wrapped her arms around his shoulders pressing him against her body, her trembling lips against the thick cords of his neck, she tasted the slightly salty tang of him. The breath hitched in her throat as arousal crashed through her.

  “Fuck, Katie,” he growled, stiffening against her. He thrust his erection against her, shoving himself into her so hard he pushed her up the bed. “Fucking cocktease. You shove me away with one hand and pull me closer with the other. I’m done waiting. I want what’s mine.”

  She moaned, a combination of distress and capitulation to his words leaving her lips. He captured the sound with his mouth, taking her lips with his for the first time, stealing her breath with a growl. He wasn’t gentle. There were too many years of waiting between them. Too many long, agonizing years. Too many spoken and unspoken words. He took her mouth with a violence that shocked her to the core, yet told her unequivocally whose woman she was. There would be no escape for the escape artist.

  He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth until she thought she would choke on it. He forced himself into every part of her mouth, memorizing every facet and imprinting himself on her. Taking from her without asking. His teeth clashed against hers until she was sure he would cut her. She whimpered, desperate for the assault to end, but still he continued. She could do nothing but curl her fingers against his bare shoulders and hold on for dear life while he took and took from her what she had denied him for so many years.

  Finally, after what felt like ages, he pulled back. He dropped his forehead onto hers. She could feel him practically vibrating with restraint. Holding himself back from just tearing into her the way he’d torn into her mouth seconds before. Her lips felt swollen and sore from his ravishment.

  “Jesus fuck, Katie. So fucking good. I don't know how I can be gentle enough with you,” he gritted against her cheek. His body caged hers on the bed. She felt every inch of his much bigger frame against hers.

  He clenched his fingers in h
er hair, controlling her, while his lips explored her face and ear, returning to her lips again and again. She moaned as pleasure and pain merged each time he pressed himself against her swollen mouth. His other hand roamed her body, sweeping down her ribcage, touching her body intimately for the first time. She felt the tremors going through his big frame and knew it wasn't from nervousness. No, it was the savagely leashed aggression threatening to break loose at any moment and light the bed on fire with them in it. He wanted her with an intensity that could wreck her, but he didn't want to hurt her beyond repair.

  She trembled underneath him, afraid of what he could do to her. She felt his big palm caress her breast. Her back arched of its own volition, pushing her chest into his hand. He groaned and closed rough fingers over the perfect globe, squeezing her. His hand snaked behind her neck and made short work of the halter on her bikini top. With a tug he pulled it down, revealing both of her round breasts.

  Katie’s hands jerked up automatically to cover them, but he smacked them away with a growl. She blushed and refused to look at him. “Too small,” she whispered.

  He frowned and took her chin in his hand, jerking her face back to him. His dark eyes glowed with anger and frustration. He always hated when her insecurities showed. “Perfect,” he growled. “You will never insult what’s mine again.”

  His hand dropped from her face to touch the B-cup breast, tipped with a large pink areola and now stiff coral nipple. He pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger and steadily applied pressure until she cried out and reached for his tattooed wrist. Her hips bucked underneath him in perfect response to the bite of pain. His eyes flared in acknowledgment.

  “Understand?” he growled.