Chapter Ten

Roman is quiet as he pulls into the parking lot of a colorful little Mexican restaurant at the far end of a strip mall. I take a deep breath and then another, trying to calm the way my heart pounds as he parks the truck. My mouth feels dry, his words and the intensity behind them sucking all the moisture from it. I don"t think he meant to say them, and I don"t know what to do now that he has.

He"s been in my head since the beginning, too. Even after I started dating Damien…Roman was there. He"s always been there, watching me with those hazel eyes, stripping me bare. Even when I didn"t understand it, even when I thought he disliked me, he was there.

The truth is…he"s the reason I was with Damien to begin with. He"s Tahani"s dad, and I couldn"t get him out of my head. I was terrified I"d say or do the wrong thing, and she"d find out I was obsessed with him. Or that he"d find out. They"re the closest thing to family I"ve had since my mom died. It would have destroyed me to lose them.

Damien kept asking me out and Tahani was getting suspicious about why I kept turning him down—why I always turned everyone down. So the next time he asked, I said yes. I thought it was a chance to save my friendship and guard my secret. I didn"t think I stood a chance in hell with Roman at the time. I was just a stupid college kid with a hopeless crush. I had to get over him.

Except I never did. No matter how hard I tried, I still dreamed about him. I still fantasized about him.

How messed up is that? I was with Damien for six months, but my heart still wanted Roman.

Maybe I deserved what Damien and Lizette did. I never cheated, but my heart certainly wasn"t pure. Am I really any better than them? It"s hard to look at myself in the mirror and say I am.

"Let"s eat," Roman says softly, killing the engine.

I nod and unlatch my seatbelt with trembling hands before opening my door. He hops out and jogs around the side of the truck. He puts his hands around my waist, lifting me out. His hands linger for a moment, his eyes meeting mine.

I avert my gaze, terrified I"m going to get caught in his piercing eyes again. Terrified he"s going to find what he"s looking for in mine because it"s there. Right fucking there. And that scares the shit out of me.

This is just sex…right?

Unease slides through me, twisting in my stomach when I realize I"m not sure that"s true. I"m not sure if it was ever true.

He sighs, the sound barely audible, and then gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before stepping back.

"Come on," he says then, slamming my door and hitting the locks.

I walk beside him, my heart still thumping hard.

What is he doing to me? What does he want from me?

I"m a little afraid to answer either of those questions, so I don"t. I push them from my mind, refusing to think about them or what they mean.

"How did you find this place?" I ask quietly, glancing around.

The building is painted yellow, blue, and green, but the bright colors have begun to fade. The sign out front is weathered. There are two other cars in the lot, and that"s it. Without the delicious aromas coming from the restaurant, I never would have guessed the place was still open for business.

"I stumbled across it right after I bought the condo," he murmurs, leading me up the sidewalk with a hand on my lower back. "Tourists haven"t found the spot yet, so it"s quiet. I like that."

"Why?" I blurt as he holds the door open for me. I meet his gaze, genuinely curious.

Before he can answer, an elderly man pops up. He"s barely any taller than I am.

"Hola, se?or, se?orita," he says, ushering us inside. The smile on his face reflects in his warm brown eyes. It softens his leathered face, too. "?Coma esta?"

My mouth waters as I step over the threshold. The entire restaurant smells like spices and meat. My stomach growls loudly at the delicious combination, reminding me that I haven"t eaten anything all day.

After Roman fucked me in the shower, I passed out. With the storm blowing outside and his body caging me in, I slept hard. When we woke up, the sun shining brightly outside as if a storm had never passed at all, he informed me that we weren"t having sex again today and that he was taking me out for dinner. My stomach was in knots the minute he said it, making it impossible to eat.

Roman responds to the host"s question, Spanish rolling off his tongue like he"s spoken it his entire life. He probably has. I tried to learn, but wasn"t very good at it. Whatever he says has the host nodding and smiling though.

I glance around the restaurant, knots in my stomach growing. The place is small and intimate. Little chandeliers hang over each table, but the light they cast is minimal. The booths are deep, the high backs offering nothing but privacy. The place is painted much more demurely inside than it is outside. The inside is also in much better condition. Everything is neat and clean. Aside from a busboy rolling silverware into napkins at one table and our elderly host, we"re the only two here.

Our host grabs two menus from the counter and motions for us to follow him. Roman puts his hand on my lower back again, leading me through the restaurant. I try to follow the threads of conversation as he talks with the host, but with his hand on me, I lose track completely.

How does he do that to me? How does he unravel me just by touching me? It"s exhilarating and nerve-wracking at once.

By the time the host stops at a booth near the back of the dining room, my body temperature has climbed ten degrees and my mouth is dry again.

"Thank you," I mumble, sliding into the booth.

Roman"s hand slides across my back and then my hip as I move. I jump, but if he notices, he doesn"t say anything. He slides in across from me and the host lays our menus in front of us before saying something else in Spanish.

Roman nods, and then the host walks off, telling us that our waiter will be right out.

I barely notice him leaving. My gaze is focused on Roman. He"s always seemed so big to me, but seated across from me, he appears even more massive than usual. Like an ancient warrior, larger than life.

My head comes nowhere close to the chandelier, but his threatens to bump into it every time he moves. His shoulders are broad, his white shirt stretched over his muscles, straining to encase them.

God, he"s gorgeous.

"Did you play football?" I ask him when my body temperature shoots up another degree.

He cocks a brow at me like he isn"t sure where the question came from.

"You"re huge." I feel my cheeks heating when he smirks, but it"s true. "I"m serious. Have you always been this big?"

"Yes," he says, leaning back. He throws his arm casually over the back of the bench. "I"ve always been big. And no, I didn"t play football. I wasn"t into organized sports."

"Oh. What were you into?"

He eyes me for a minute. "Fucking," he says bluntly.

I blink at his candor, and he shrugs.

"I wasn"t a good kid, Mila." He isn"t upset or embarrassed about his past. He"s just telling me the truth. "I slept around. I smoked pot, fought, and raised all kinds of hell."

"Oh." I swallow, trying to imagine him as a rowdy teenage boy. I can almost see it in him. I always thought he was so self-contained, so quiet, but when he"s fucking me, I see that wildness peeking out. More and more, I see it even when he"s not inside me. "Can I ask you a question?"

He nods.

"You were really young when you got Tahani"s mom pregnant."

He nods again.

I want to ask him what happened, but the words are stuck in my throat. I know what Tahani told me, but I want to hear his version. Why was he with someone like her mom? Lucinda McPherson is uptight, uppity. Roman isn"t like her at all.

"I was sixteen," he says when it becomes obvious that I"m still searching for the right words. "I was running with a rough crowd, getting into all sorts of shit. My parents sent me to my grandfather for the summer, hoping to get my head out of my ass. Lucinda wanted to piss off her parents, and I was perfectly fine with helping her accomplish that. We spent a few months together before I went back home to Los Angeles." He shrugs like that"s all there is to the story, but there"s more. I know there is.

"She didn"t tell you that she was pregnant?"

He tenses at the question, anger sweeping through his expression. "She didn"t say a fucking word," he says, his voice hard. "I don"t think she planned on me ever finding out about Tahani."

"That"s what Tahani says, too," I whisper. Lucinda didn"t want him to know that they had a kid. He never would have known if Tahani hadn"t tracked him down. I think Tahani will always resent her mom for keeping her away from Roman. Watching him, I think he"ll always resent it too.

"Once I found out she existed, I didn"t give Lucinda a chance to keep me away. She could have tried, but it wouldn"t have stopped me. Tahani"s my daughter. I had a right to know about her. Had her mother forced my hand, I would have pushed the issue. I would have fought for custody." His eyes flash, anger swirling through those blue depths again. "I wouldn"t have lost. I never do."

The way he says that like it"s a fact of life…I believe him.

"You"re a good father," I say, and then pause when a waiter appears with bowls of chips, salsa, and guacamole. He sets everything on the table and then takes our drink orders before disappearing into the kitchen. "Tahani adores you."

Roman flashes me a smile, some of that tension melting away. "She had me wrapped around her little finger in a matter of days," he admits with a laugh. He sounds so proud, it"s honestly adorable. "She was a little hellion, just like I was."

"Is that why you bought the condo here? To be closer to her?"

He nods and grabs a chip before scooping up some guac with it. He pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before he swallows. "I hate that I lost so much time with her," he says then. "I didn"t get to watch her grow up, and I wanted to be a part of her life. Plus, I like it here. It"s quiet."

"You said that earlier," I remind him. "About the restaurant."

"Eat," he says, scooping up more guac and then holding it out to me.

I lean forward and take a tentative bite. As soon as I do, I moan. It"s some of the best I"ve ever had.

"Jesus," he mutters, watching me lick my bottom lip. He shakes his head as if to clear it.

"Why?" I ask my question from earlier again before popping another chip into my mouth.

"Why do I like it?" He waits for me to nod. "I can relax here."

"You can"t relax in Los Angeles?"

His eyes are darker, desire and something else—an intense longing that makes my heart ache for him—peeking out as he shakes his head. He doesn"t say anything as the waiter returns with our drinks. The young man takes our order, jotting it down in his little notebook before asking if we need anything else.

Once he"s out of earshot, Roman speaks again, his voice soft. "In Los Angeles, there"s always a fucking target on my back. It"s hard to relax when you might not make it through the day in one piece."

His words, or maybe the way he says them so casually, like the possibility of him being killed is a fact of life, send anxiety shooting through me. The thought of something bad happening to him hurts. I"ve always told myself I only worried about him for Tahani"s sake, but I think I was lying to myself. I think, well, I think it would devastate me if anything were to happen to him.

"I told you I don"t work with ordinary criminals, baby," he says softly, reading my expression. "I work with some really fucked up people. The only thing they know is violence and vengeance. They deal in guns and drugs and worse. I know who they are. I know what they are. I"m not going to put myself in danger unnecessarily."

"Why do you do it?" I ask, wanting to understand. I"ve always known the gist of what he does, but I don"t think I ever really thought about the risks before. Even when he told me about his partner"s son and the man he killed, I didn"t think too deeply about what that meant for him.

"Who else is going to?" he asks instead of answering. The corner of his lip tilts up in a gentle smile. He reaches out and snags my hand, lacing our fingers together. "I do what I do so people like you, people like Tahani, never have to know the fucked up things people are capable of doing to others. I never want that shit to touch you."

"Did you always want to go into law enforcement?"

"No. I had no interest in following in my father"s footsteps until the day he got shot," he says. "I was eighteen, and he was trying to protect a woman from her abusive husband. The guy shot him in the chest. The guy"s wife was at the hospital with us the entire time, standing vigil beside us until my dad died. I never understood until then exactly what he"d always tried to instill in me about honor and doing the right thing. The world needs people like us, so people like her, like you and Tahani, never have to deal with motherfuckers like that."

"Are you scared?" I whisper around the lump in my throat. He"s so earnest, so sincere…it"s wrecking me a little bit. He"s wrecking me, letting me in like this. I have a feeling it"s not something he does often or at all, and I don"t know why he"s giving me this piece of him, but I want it.

"Of being shot like he was? Of the people I work with? Of dying?" He shakes his head, his gaze locked on our hands as I cling to him. "No. I"m not afraid of that."

"What are you afraid of?" I ask, desperate to understand him and the look in his eye. Everything inside me wants every little piece of him that he"s willing to hand over. That scares the shit out of me and doesn"t scare me enough at the same time. I feel like Icarus, flying too close to the sun and not close enough at once.

"Of this," he says, so softly I"m not sure he intended to say the words out loud. He lifts his gaze to mine, and I see the truth in his eyes. He"s afraid of me. Of what he wants from me. Of what I make him feel.

I want to look away, to hide from him again…but I can"t.

"Me too," I whisper.

"You"re safe with me, Mila," he promises, heat in his voice.

I don"t think I am, though. I think if anyone has the power to break me, it just might be him. Damien didn"t have that power, but Roman does. And that"s how I know I"m in trouble…big trouble. Because even knowing that? Even though the way he makes me feel scares the shit out of me? It doesn"t change how much I want him.

We avoid heavier topics for the rest of dinner, instead talking about books and current events. Roman knows a hell of a lot more about the state of the world than I do. I"m not sure why I"m surprised to learn that he"s so well-read, but it does surprise me. It surprises me even more when he quotes Anais Nin"s Little Birds to me in that devilish voice, sending little ripples of heat through me.

When he asks about my upcoming interview, I find myself hesitating to tell him that it"s in Los Angeles. Some little voice in the back of my mind warns me to keep that tidbit to myself, that he won"t like knowing I"ll be so close to the dangerous people he works with. I skirt around the topic, letting him assume the interview is in Berkeley.

By the time we finish eating, other diners have begun to trickle in, quickly filling up the place. Additional staff members materialize out of the kitchen. The intimate feel of the restaurant never quite diminishes, though, and I find that Roman was right. It is quiet here. Everyone speaks softly, the noise level never rising to the same dull roar of most restaurants. That leads me to believe he isn"t the only one who comes here because it"s peaceful.

"How"s your foot?" he asks as we walk back toward the truck. His arm is around my waist, holding me to him. He"s warm beside me, and I find myself relaxing into his touch.

"It feels a lot better today. Whatever you"ve been putting on it seems to be doing the trick." It"s still sore, but I"m able to put my full weight on it again.

He opens my door for me and then lifts me into the truck with his hands on my waist. Once I"m settled, he closes the door before walking around to the driver"s side. He moves so gracefully for someone so massive. It"s honestly a little captivating. He"s captivating. I"ve never met anyone who exudes confidence and authority like he does. It"s like he was born to be a cop.

We ride in silence back to the condo, but it"s comfortable. Peaceful. I relax even further the closer to the condo we get, letting the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea wash over me. Debris and broken tree limbs litter yards here and there, standing in testament to the ferocity of the storm that passed earlier, but the scent of rain is gone, leaving behind nothing but the ocean and the breeze blowing in from the water.

"Walk on the beach with me?" he asks after pulling into the driveway and killing the engine.

I nod without hesitation.

He hops out of the truck and circles around to my door. Once I"m on the ground beside him, he pulls me into his side again and walks around the side of the condo, following the trail down to the water.

The beach is as empty as always, but the storm has washed up all sorts of junk. Broken bottles, kelp, and water-logged chunks of wood are strewn along the shoreline. The waves lap against it, pulling some of it back out to sea and pushing other bits further inland.

The sun is a bright ball on the horizon, slowly sinking into its nightly cradle. The water is a riot of colors. So is the sky above. Brightness and beauty mingle with the destruction and trash on the beach in a harsh juxtaposition that steals my breath.

"I can"t believe I slept through all of this," I say softly as we walk. Sand finds its way into my ballet flats with every step, but I don"t kick them off like I normally would. Too much glass litters the beach. No way am I going to risk slicing open my other foot.

"You were exhausted."

I stop walking and frown at him. He sounds guilty, like it"s his fault that we haven"t been able to keep our hands off each other, like he"s responsible for me in some way.

He draws to a stop beside me and tilts his head down until his gaze meets mine. I can"t read his expression, but it instantly makes me tense up.

"I"m a big girl, Roman," I remind him, heat in my voice. "I didn"t do anything I didn"t want to do."

"I know that."

"Do you?" I ask, not sure he does.

He cocks his head to the side, studying me again. He"s always studying me. Trying to figure me out. Sometimes, it"s maddening.

He reaches out for my hand and uses it to tug me closer to his body. Once I"m pressed up against him in one long line, he dips his head, his mouth landing against mine. "I"ve had my tongue and my cock buried in you until you screamed for me, Mila," he says against my lips. "Believe me, sweetheart, I"m perfectly aware of how old you are."

I moan and bite his lip, half out of frustration and half out of desire. He drives me crazy with his filthy mouth.

"Do you need me to prove it to you again, baby?" he teases, smacking my ass.

"I"m not kidding, Roman." I run my hands through his hair, tugging forcefully. I can"t tear my mouth from his, though. I can"t stop kissing him. God, why can"t I ever seem to stop when it comes to him? "I don"t belong to you. I"m not your responsibility."

"The hell you aren"t," he growls, yanking me even closer. Something predatory rolls through his gaze, turning his eyes dark and stormy. The hard ridge of his cock presses into my hip. He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and then breaks away. Before I can miss him, his mouth is on my neck, and his teeth are in my skin. "You"re fucking mine, Mila, and I take care of what"s mine." His tone is pure possession. "That pussy, that mouth, that sexy little body…it all belongs to me."

Oh God.

A wave of heat rockets through me, pulling a wordless cry from my lips. His hands go to my ass, and then I"m in his arms, my legs around his waist. My mouth crashes down on his as he grinds me against his cock. I don"t care that we"re outside, that I"m sore, or that I"m still frustrated with him. I want him here, now, against the rocks.

"I don"t belong to you," I breathe into his mouth, denying him, though I think we both know I"m full of shit. There"s something so dirty about him staking his claim on me right here on the beach. It"s elemental, primal. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. I want to hear it again. I want him to prove it.

"Fuck," he growls, carrying me toward an outcropping of rocks as if he read my mind. He"s pissed and turned on at the same time. I love knowing I do that to him. That I can rile him up like that. Knowing that I can make someone so powerful, so strong, come unraveled is intoxicating.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he says.

"So do you," I mumble, ripping through the buttons on his shirt, desperate to feel him against my skin. I lick and bite his neck, grinding against him until he"s practically snarling. I"m not gentle, and I don"t care. He likes it rough. I think he needs it that way.

Cool air hits my ass as he yanks my dress up.

"Jesus Christ. You don"t have panties covering my pussy, Mila," he growls when he realizes I"m not wearing any underwear. He squeezes my ass, playing with my flesh like he can"t get enough of it. Half a second later, he"s laying me down on the rocks.

I gasp as the cold hits me and then cry out when he drops to his knees in front of me.

"Please, Roman," I whimper, frantic when he doesn"t go any further. I"m so turned on it hurts. All day, he"s had his hands on my body, teasing me. I can"t take any more. I need him to soothe the burn.

Wave after wave of desire crashes through me. It"s savage, almost scary in its intensity. I"ve never felt like this before, like if he isn"t on me right this second, I"m going to shatter apart.

"I know, baby." He yanks my dress up higher, exposing me completely.

The cool air and the heat of his gaze hit me, making me cry out again as the dichotomy of hot and cold sends another bolt through me. I bite my hand to stifle my cries as he comes at me.

He shoulders his way in, roughly shoving my legs apart, and then he"s on me. He"s a combination of rough and wild and sweet and gentle. His hands dig into my hips hard, holding me down. But he"s gentle between my legs, licking me softly. I"m so wet I can hear him sliding through my juices.

"Goddamn, Mila. You taste like fucking peaches." He licks me again, going slow, savoring the way I taste on his tongue.

I claw at the rock, digging my heels into his back to push myself closer to his mouth. I need more. "Please," I plead softly. "Please, Roman."

"What do you want, baby?" he asks, spreading me open with one hand. He groans loudly. "You have the prettiest pussy, Mila. It"s so fucking pink and perfect. I swear to Christ, I"m already addicted to it." He licks me again, using just the tip of his tongue. "What do you want, baby? Tell me."

What do I want?

"You," I scream the truth, flinging it at him. Tears well in my eyes. The sensations ripping through me are too much, too fierce, and it"s still not enough. I want everything he has. I want him stripped as bare as I am. I want him as crazy as he makes me. I want everything I know I"m not allowed to have. I want him embedded in my skin, and I don"t want him to stop. Not today, or tomorrow, and not in two weeks.

He groans, the sound so loud it echoes around us. He lunges for me, burying his face in my pussy. He"s not gentle this time. He takes me hard, fucking me with his tongue until I"m thrashing beneath him. My hands are twisted into his hair so hard I know it has to be hurting him, but I can"t let up.

He moans and growls against my pussy. I can"t stop crying out, chanting nonsense as he eats me like he"s starving for me. I"m sure the neighbors hear us. The thought excites me. I want them to hear what he"s doing to me. I want them to hear every filthy sound he gives me, and every one he rips from my lips.

"Tell me you"re mine," he demands, biting into my inner thigh and sucking hard.

The sensation shoots straight to my clit.

"Tell me, Mila." He bites me again before moving back to my pussy. Another hot breath blows across my skin. He soothes me with a swipe of his tongue.

I"m so close, but he"s not going to let me go over. Not until I give him what he wants. Every single part of me screams at me to submit to him, to give him the words. I defy him anyway, biting my tongue to keep myself from screaming to the world that I belong to him.

He growls again, spreading me wider. He"s pissed, so mad at me for refusing to give in to him. He forces me into submission, working me over, using his lips and teeth and tongue until I"m a sobbing mess beneath him, unable to deny him anything.

"Fucking tell me," he snarls as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, giving way to night.

"I"m yours," I scream, writhing in pleasure and pain and the pure fucking terror of realizing I never stood a chance against him. I am his. I think I always have been. "God, Roman. I"m yours!"

His roar is wild, splitting the newly minted night wide open. He thrusts his tongue into me, digging his hands harder into my hips.

I come immediately. Everything in me explodes outward so fiercely that I lose track of him, of me, of everything but the tidal wave roaring through me.

It"s terror, and it"s bliss.

And even in the midst of it, I know…I fucking know that there"s no coming back from it.

He"s ruined me. Permanently.