My breathing quickens as I raise my arms and wrap them around his neck, then lean into him so that our lips are only millimeters apart. He doesn’t take his eyes from mine, and the way he’s looking at me does strange things to my insides.
“Are you trying to kiss me, Roman?” I whisper into his lips.
“I might be,” he says.
“There is no one around to see us.”
“Exactly,” he whispers and touches his lips to mine.
He goes slowly at first, like he’s savoring me, but then his arms close around my back and he leans back onto the cushions, taking me with him. The way this man kisses should be ruled as hazardous to mental health, and prohibited. It feels like a hurricane is sweeping me off my feet, scrambling both my body and mind. I reach down with my hand, grab a fistful of his T-shirt and start tugging it upward. Roman breaks the kiss and removes his shirt at the same time I drop mine on the floor. While he’s removing his sweats, I unclasp my bra and get rid of my leggings and underwear, and then climb onto his lap. His hand comes to the back of my neck, and he crashes his mouth to mine again.
I can’t stop touching him, his chest, his face, his cock which is already fully erect. Roman slides his hand between our bodies and I feel his fingers start teasing my clit.
“So wet,” he whispers in my ear and thrusts one finger inside of me.
I almost come on his hand right then and there, and I probably would have if he didn’t remove his finger, making me growl in frustration. It isn’t about his finger, though. It’s about him. Roman Petrov, the man who will be my doom. Call it a premonition or an instinct—doesn’t matter. I know he will destroy me because one look from Roman turns me on stronger than any other man before him has done with his cock.
“If you don’t get inside me right this moment,”—I take a handful of his hair and squeeze—“I’m going to murder you, Roman.”
His hands slowly travel down my chest and ribcage until he reaches my waist. Lifting me, he positions me above his cock, those devilish eyes never moving from mine, even for a second.
“Your wish is my command, Nina,” he says and thrusts inside me.
I moan and hear him groan at the same time. He’s too big but, dear God, it feels so good. I bury my nails into his shoulders as I spasm around him while he pounds into me. It’s madness and I scream, not giving a fuck if anyone hears us. Roman groans my name and, a moment later, comes inside me. Perfection.
Roman’s hand traces patterns from the top of my neck and all the way down to my ass, then backtracks upward. I’ve been lying sprawled over his chest for at least five minutes, but I can’t make myself move.
“Nina? Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “But I’m not moving. I like it here.”
“I like having you here as well,malysh.”
* * *
I wake to the sound of a fast tapping noise coming somewhere above my head. I stretch a little and open my eyes to find myself lying on the sofa with a pillow under my head and a blanket covering me from neck to foot. The lights are off; the TV in front of me is on, showing a news channel, but the sound is muted. The tapping sound stops and, in the next moment I feel fingers combing through my hair. I tilt my head up and find Roman sitting at the end of the sofa next to my head. His hair is wet, and he has the laptop on his lap.
“You fell asleep on me earlier,” he says.
“What time is it?”
“Half past seven. I told Varya that we’ll have dinner here when you wake up.”
“Sounds good.” I stand up, clutching the blanket around me. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“All right. I’ll tell the kitchen to send the dinner up,” he says and returns to his typing.
I pivot and head toward my bedroom, feeling slightly awkward with the whole situation. We had sex. Where does that put us now? It’s not just a business arrangement anymore, is it? Should we ignore the fact that we had sex and pretend it never happened? I’m not sure I can do that because, to be honest, I don’t want to. We will have to talk about it. I might be a fan of a shove-problems-under-the-carpet approach, but I don’t think there is a rug large enough for it this time.
After my shower, I march back into the living room, intent on discussing the new situation with Roman, only to find him in his wheelchair, fully clothed, and putting on his wristwatch.
“What’s going on?”
“Something came up. Don’t wait up for me,” he says, and before I can object, he’s gone.
I stare at the door, then walk to the other side of the room where the big window overlooks the driveway. There are three cars parked in front, with four of the security guys waiting next to them. A couple of minutes later, Roman, Maxim, and Kostya come out of the house and get into the cars, followed by a few more security guys. And then, the cars leave.
Valentina brings the dinner sometime later, but I leave it on the dining table, hoping Roman will come back soon. He doesn’t, so around ten, I eat a few pieces of cold grilled fish and some salad. I put the leftovers into the fridge and watch some TV. Every fifteen minutes I get up and look out the window to see if the cars are back. Around midnight, I decide to call it a night.