Roman’s eyes narrow, his expression lethal. Silence hangs heavy. For a second, I think he might leave right then, track Max down, and return with his head. But he doesn’t. Instead, he slowly steps over to the fireplace and turns it on. Orange flames rise with a softwhoosh, the light flickering off the walls.
He’s thinking.
Finally, after gazing at the flames for several long moments, he turns to me. “He said you were too big, too much.”
I nod, my eyes on the rug. “In so many words.”
He takes a slow, deep breath. I watch as his hands clench into fists, hold, then unclench like he’s thinking about pounding them into Max’s face.
Roman steps over to me in two long strides. He lifts my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes are burning with a quiet anger.
“No one,” he says softly, “speaks about you that way and keeps their teeth.”
My breath catches.
He gives me a once-over, his gaze softening. The anger fades, replaced with something more like reverence. “You are abundance. You are softness and fire and strength. You are exactly as you are meant to be. And you need not shrink yourself for anyone.”
I swallow hard. “Roman…”
He lifts his hands, cupping my face. “He wanted you to feel smaller so he could feel bigger.” He brushes my lower lip with his thumb. “But I want you exactly as you are.”
The moment is intense. My knees feel weak. He leans in and kisses me. It’s not gentle, not rough, but certain. His mouth claims mine with hunger and adoration. I kiss him back, gripping his suit jacket, the world narrowing to just us in the way it always does when his lips are on mine.
He presses me back against the wall, placing his palms at either side of my head. He leans in again, kissing me hard and deep, making me gasp. One of his hands leaves the wall as we kiss, landing on my hip. I moan at his touch.
“You belong here,” he says. “With me.”
His words hit me hard. Harder than I would’ve expected. I should be scared.
But I’m not.
I answer him with a kiss, my need for him growing hotter, more insistent. I place my hands on his stomach, against the hard planes of his abs. He growls softly, approval vibrating through his chest.
“Bedroom,” he says.
I don’t argue.
He wraps his arm around my waist, effortlessly lifting me off my feet and carrying me like I weigh nothing. He kisses me as he walks, and I feel myself surrendering more and more with each passing moment.
“You’re not too much,” he says. “You’re everything.”
I believe him.
Moments later, we’re crossing the threshold to his bedroom. He carries me to the bed, setting me down like I’m as precious and valuable as those works of art in the hall. I sit up, unable to hold back my desire for him. I grab his shirt and yank it open, buttons flying off and scattering on the floor.
He answers my aggression with that delicious little smirk of his and pounces on me, pulling off my shirt and bra, my breasts pouring out. He lowers himself, his mouth wrapping hot and fierce around one nipple, sucking hard, his teeth grazing the peak until I arch off the bed with a sharp, “Oh, god!”
“These are mine now,” he growls against my skin. “No one gets to shame them.”
I whimper at the sensation of his mouth on my nipples, my hands weaving into his hair and pulling him closer. He returns for long enough to kiss my mouth before descending again, kissing along my neck and my breasts and the softness of my belly.
I’ve never felt so adored, so worshiped as I do when I’m with Roman, and the feeling is frighteningly addictive.
His erection presses against me as he moves down. When he gets to my waist, he yanks my leggings and panties off with one impatient pull. He looks at me with pure, barely restrained hunger as he forces my knees wide, pinning my legs open with his shoulders. There’s no hesitation, just an animalistic growl before he moves in and licks a hard, possessive stripe up my center, groaning at the taste like it’s ambrosia.
“This pussy,” he says in between kisses along my inner thighs. “Soaked already. Dripping, all for me.”
All I can do is moan his name. “Roman…”
