‘No,’ she said, bringing her gaze back to his.
‘Then see. See what you do to me,’ he demanded as he removed his trousers and boxers in one sweep and stood before her, more naked even than she. Bearing every caress of her gaze, proud and powerful beneath it. ‘I am yours to do with as you wish,’ he said. ‘You wanted your revenge, you wanted the loss of the innocence you claim to no longer have. You threatened to take some unworthy other. But I am here. The heart of your vengeance and most definitely worthy of it. So take me.’
As if he had given her permission to feel, to want, to have...she closed the distance between them and claimed his lips with hers. To be on the receiving end of such a kiss nearly undid him. Instead of wrapping her arms around him as he had expected, her hands went to his thighs, her nails digging in deliciously to the hardened corded muscle before they swept around to his backside, moulding, pressing, gripping and he allowed her to feast on him.
His hands reached for her hips, pulling her against him, the skin to skin full body contact stoking an already out of control fire between them. But while she took her pleasure from him, he wanted more. To give more. Picking her up, he marvelled at the slight weight of her in his arms. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he maintained the kiss as he walked them through his apartment to the bedroom beyond.
With one arm still wrapped around her, holding her to him, he gently laid her back across his bed and took just one moment to capture the image, burying it deep within him, knowing that, as much as he might deny it, he would remember it for the rest of his life.
Pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her neck to her navel, his hands traced down her sides and beneath her to her hips.
‘Do you trust me?’ he asked.
Her eyes locked with his. ‘No.’
An ice-cold shard cut through him, deep.
‘Do you trust me in this?’ he roughly bit out, knowing that he would stop if he needed to, but battling and raging against it.
‘Yes.’
‘Turn over.’
* * *
As he smoothed a hand down the length of her spine, Ella practically curved into his touch, still unable to account for why having him pressed against her back made her feel safe, made her feel secure.
She hadn’t lied to him. She might not trust him with her heart, but she did trust him with her body.
She felt kisses against her shoulders, a tongue against her skin sending shooting sparks to her nipples and between her legs. Her hands gripped the cotton sheets beside her and she wanted to both curl and unfurl into them at the same time. To protect herself against the onslaught of need he was creating and open herself up to it, to take it in, to relish nothing more than the passion that was burning between them. Her whole body ached with the desire for something intangible to her, throbbing and building, both wanting and fearing the dizzying incomprehensible need within her.
He gently pulled at her hips, her body moving, lifting to where he wanted her. She felt his hands part her legs slightly as she levered herself up on her hands and cried out in both shock and pleasure when she felt his tongue at her core.
The growl of his own pleasure made her wanton as he sucked on her, his tongue delving into her from behind, her heart almost stopping from sheer ecstasy. Her arms began to shake with need, her body overriding any sense or sensibility, pressing gently back against his mouth and when she would pull away his hand at her hip held her fast, refusing her the ability to hide from this, refusing to halt the insurmountable pleasure beating harder than her heart in her chest.
His hand stretched out across her body to grasp her own where it gripped the cotton sheets, the feel of his fingers intertwining with hers a touch that moved her deeply. An assurance that she had not known she needed.
He whispered in her ear, telling her in Russian that it was okay, that she could let go. But she didn’t know what she should let go of, clinging instead to the precipice of some unfathomable, undefinable point. The hand at her hip released her and she felt his knuckle against the soft throbbing core, wringing even more pleasure from her. But when she felt his finger thrust into her she fell, blindly and willingly, over the edge, while his arms held her, turning her onto her back, enfolding her so that she never hit the floor.
* * *
Watching Ella come apart in his hands had been almost indescribable. Almost, because Roman couldn’t halt the words taunting his mind—words like incredible, unimaginable, impossible—or the feeling of awe within his chest. But, more terrifying, was a feeling of humility—something he could afford to neither voice nor consider.
As Ella ran a shaking hand down the arm that held her, and further towards his hip and groin, his body flared beneath her touch, reigniting an almost painful want within him. But tonight wasn’t about him—it was about her.
‘What do you need?’ he asked her.
‘You.’
That simple declaration unfurled something infernal within him, a need of his own that he’d never before experienced. He reached to the bedside table and retrieved a condom, feeling her gaze scrape against his bare skin as he tore the foil casing. The weight of her eyes on him furthered his arousal as he rolled the latex over his length.
Her body, still damp from exertion, shifted beneath him, her legs unconsciously widening to make room for him. Only the slight hesitation in her eyes gave him pause.
‘Will it hurt?’
Not as much as the vulnerability in your eyes hurts me now, he thought.
‘Perhaps a little. For a moment. But I will do everything in my power to lessen it.’