Chapter Eighteen

"Ididn"t know you could cook," Roman says from across the kitchen table. He looks impressed as he surveys the serving dishes spread across the center of the table.

"I don"t do it often."

Since he"s been here, he"s done most of the cooking, but I wanted to do something for him tonight. He"s been stressed all day. His boss called before we were even up this morning, informing him that he"s needed back in Los Angeles. I"m not sure exactly what happened, but I don"t think it"s good.

He spent a lot of time on the phone today, snapping at everyone he spoke with. It was honestly a little scary. I mean, I"m not afraid of him, but I"ve never seen him in work mode like that before. He"s…well, he"s kind of intimidating. There"s no way I"d ever want to be one of the criminals he deals with, not if I had to face him and all that scary-hot rage.

"Why not?" he asks, spearing a piece of asparagus with his fork before popping it into his mouth.

I shrug and take a sip of wine instead of answering.

"Why not?" he asks again, narrowing his eyes on me.

"I don"t know." I push my roasted potatoes around on my plate, refusing to meet his gaze. "I just don"t."

"Mila."

I huff at his warning tone and roll my eyes. I love how commanding he is, but it"s annoying as hell sometimes.

"After my mom died, if I wanted to eat, I had to cook," I mumble. "My dad was too drunk to remember I was there most of time. Cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping…he didn"t remember to do things like that, so I had to do it. Being forced to cook in order to survive at ten and eleven years old took the joy out of it for me."

Roman"s quiet for a long moment, processing my words. I feel the tension radiating from him even from across the table though. He really doesn"t like my dad much. Not that I blame him or anything. I don"t like the man much myself. When I risk a glance up at Roman, sadness lingers in his hazel eyes.

"Don"t you dare feel sorry for me, Roman Nathaniel Gregory," I whisper, glaring at him when a lump lodges in my throat. I haven"t cried over my dad or the way I was raised in a long time, and him looking at me like that makes me want to bawl.

"I don"t feel sorry for you, baby," he mutters, shaking his head. His eyes meet mine again, something soft swirling through the hazel depths. "You"re a fucking warrior. I"m proud of you."

"Thank you." I clear my throat and take another sip of wine.

"This tastes amazing, but you didn"t have to cook for me, sweetheart. You don"t ever have to do a fucking thing for anyone that you don"t want to do, got it?" His voice drops low, the heated words little more than a growl.

"Got it," I whisper, a little breathless, "but I wanted to do something to say thank you. You"ve been taking care of me all week."

"I appreciate it, but believe me, baby," he says, lifting his beer bottle to his lips as he relaxes a little. He winks at me, grinning. "Taking care of you is no hardship on my part."

I roll my eyes at him and shake my head, smiling. He still won"t let me do anything for myself, but he is finally giving me orgasms again, so I"m not that mad about it. I"m not going to tell him that, though, since he still isn"t fucking me, which I am still annoyed about. Instead, I go back to eating.

He chuckles softly and then does the same. The Hawaiian chicken and grilled veggies aren"t fancy, but they are good. He eats every single bite of his and then goes back for more.

"How do you eat as much as you do and still look like that?" I ask, amused as he finishes off another chicken breast and the rest of the asparagus, and then leans back in his chair with a sigh.

"I work out or run seven days a week. I need fuel." He shrugs.

"You haven"t worked out since you"ve been here," I point out.

He grins at me, winking again. "I"ve done nothing but work out since I"ve been here. Keeping you satisfied is a full-time job."

"Whatever," I mumble. God, he"s cute when he"s being playful. I"m not telling him that, though. No way. He"s made me come with his mouth and his fingers about a million times in the last couple of days, but I need him inside me. His sexual no-go zone is frustrating as hell.

"Seriously though," he says, laughing at me. "I"m usually up a few hours before you are, baby. I work out, surf, or run while you"re still dead to the world."

"You"re the one who keeps me up so late," I remind him.

"Are you complaining?" He cocks a brow at me, smirking again.

"Yes." I glare across the table at him. "I think you"re intentionally torturing me. I"ve been fine for two days now, but you still won"t fuck me."

He refuses to take the bait. As usual. He simply shakes his head and smiles again when I growl at him. If he doesn"t end this ridiculous standoff soon, I"m going to strangle him.

"Are you still set on going to your interview in Berkeley?" he asks.

"I think I have to, don"t I? Isn"t it frowned upon to accept an interview and then flake?"

"I don"t know. I"ve never been to one."

"You"ve never been to an interview?"

"Nope." He picks his beer up and takes another drink.

I blink, my mouth falling open. "How is that even possible? Everyone goes on job interviews. It"s like the number one rule of being an adult. You go on job interviews. How did you get your job?"

"My dad was a good cop," he says with a shrug. "And he was killed in the line of duty. I guess they decided to skip the formalities when I expressed interest in following in his footsteps. When I finished college, his former Chief called me in and told me to get my ass to the Academy. And I was recruited to the ATF after working with the gang taskforce for a few years."

"How…Why…" I don"t even know what to say so I just give up with a shake of my head. I"m not in the least surprised to find out he was recruited, though. If he"s as good at his job as he is at pretty much everything, why wouldn"t they recruit him?

"I think I should go to the interview," I say after a minute. "It seems wrong to call and tell them I changed my mind."

"Will you come to LA immediately after?" he asks, staring at me over the rim of his bottle.

"Are you sure you still want me to? I"m just saying that things do not seem to be going well with your case right now," I hurry to add when a growl starts rumbling low in his throat.

"Things are going like they always fucking go when people like Guerrero and Francisco are involved," he mutters. He looks pissed off and stressed out again, a scowl on his gorgeous face.

"I have to be in LA on Monday for my interview with the Triton Agency," I say softly, hoping to distract him. "I"ll probably drive up on Friday. That way I can start looking for an apartment before the interview and start trying to find my way around."

He"s kept me so preoccupied that I haven"t really even looked at housing in Los Angeles since he"s been here. I haven"t spent much time there, so I don"t even know what areas to look at or how safe they are. I also need to put out more feelers to other agencies and publishers in case the Triton Agency doesn"t offer me the job.

There"s a lot to do, and it"s honestly stressing me out a little bit. But I"m not going to tell him that because I don"t regret a second of the time I"ve spent with him instead of doing all those things. I"ve loved getting to be with him, getting to learn who he is behind that mask he always wore around me.

He"s exactly the same he"s always been, but he"s different too. He"s so much sweeter than I expected. He"s funny, crazy intelligent, and confident. He isn"t cocky or arrogant—okay, he"s a little cocky and arrogant, but more than that, he"s genuinely comfortable with who he is. He does things his way, and if you don"t like it, too bad. I don"t think he gives a shit if people like him or what they think about him. He"s just Roman.

When I glance up, he"s watching me again, his expression indecipherable. I"m not sure what he"s thinking, but whatever is going on in his mind seems pretty intense. There"s a furrow between his brow and he has his bottom lip between his teeth. He seems deep in thought, so I stand up and begin gathering our dishes.

"I"ll be right back," he mutters, his chair scraping across the floor as he pushes it back.

I glance over my shoulder to see him striding from the room. And then I just stand there and watch him go because he"s got a great ass and the way he walks with a little swagger to his step is hot.

When he disappears from view, I laugh to myself and start cleaning up the kitchen. I don"t remember ever feeling this happy before. Even though my future is still a big question mark, I"m genuinely happy.

It feels incredible.

"Ihave something for you," he says a little while later, coming up behind me as I"m standing at the sink, staring out at the beach while enjoying another glass of wine. The kitchen is clean, and the dishes are in the dishwasher. He slides one hand around my stomach, pulling me back into the hard wall of his chest. His lips come to rest against the side of my throat.

"What?" I breathe as his scent envelops me. He always smells so damn good.

He kisses the side of my neck and then reaches for my wine glass. I melt into him, my eyes fluttering closed. He sets the glass on the counter and then flips my hand over, uncurling my fingers. Something hard lands against my palm.

I open my eyes and tilt my head down to see a silver key in my hand.

"It"s for my place in Los Angeles," he murmurs when I turn my head to look up at him. He smiles at me, his lips tipped up. The soft, hopeful expression on his face steals my breath.

"Are–" I swallow my question. When he asked me to come to Los Angeles with him, I assumed he meant he wanted to continue our relationship instead of ending it here, but I think he"s asking me to move in with him…as in live with him.

Holy shit.

He wants me to live with him?

"Yes."

I blink, my brows drawing together, which makes him laugh. His body shakes against mine.

"I didn"t even finish my question," I mumble, slightly annoyed that he"s laughing at me. But only slightly because the key to his house is in my hand, his arms are around me, and I"m pretty sure he"s asking me to move in with him. I"m also pretty sure I"m going to say yes if that is what he"s asking.

"You didn"t have to," he says, turning me in his arms until I"m fully facing him. He smiles down at me and then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I can read you like a book, baby. It"s those eyes of yours. They"re so fucking expressive."

"So are yours," I mumble, but I"m not looking at his eyes. My gaze stays locked on his full lips. I want to kiss him. Actually, I want to kiss every inch of him.

"I don"t give a fuck if it"s too fast," he says, tugging me closer with one hand on my hip. "When you get to Los Angeles, I want you in my house and in my bed, just like you have been here. With everything going on, I need to know you"re safe. I just need you with me. Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper.

"Will you move in with me?"

Yes!

I don"t say that, though. I pretend to think about it for a minute. It is fast, but I don"t care. I want to be with him, too. I don"t need more time to figure out how I feel about him. I"m so fucking in love with him it"s ridiculous. But I can"t help but mess with him a little bit. After nearly a week of not having him inside me, I"ve earned the right to fuck with him.

"It depends," I say, biting my cheek to keep from smiling when his body tenses against mine.

"On what?"

"Will you stop torturing me and fuck me already if I agree?" I ask, flicking my gaze up to his and smirking.

I feel him growing hard, his erection pushing against my stomach, but when he tips my head back, his expression is so serious, it makes my heart flutter and clench.

"No," he whispers after a moment, shaking his head. "I can"t fuck you right now, Mila."

Oh my God. I"m going to kill him.

One big hand latches onto me before I can pull away. The other tangles in my hair. His lips land against mine, hard and demanding.

Even though I want to strangle him, I kiss him back. His lips move against mine until I"m breathless and pulling him closer instead of trying to push him away. His key digs into my palm, but I barely notice the little pain.

"I can"t fuck you," he whispers into my mouth. His lips slide across mine again, soft and sweet. "Not when I need to make love to you so badly it hurts, baby."

Holy shit.

I moan quietly when he sweeps me up into his arms, carrying me out of the kitchen and then up the stairs. I lay my head against his shoulder, my heart pounding a frenetic beat. I"m on fire and trembling in his arms.

I think he"s made love to me since the very first time he touched me, but when he tips his head down to look at me, his expression takes my breath away. He"s always looked at me like he"s going to eat me alive, and that"s there, burning every bit as hot as ever, but there"s a little bit of hesitation and fear mixed in this time.

Roman isn"t afraid of much, but I think he might just be a little afraid of himself since I fell down the stairs. He"s afraid he"s going to hurt me.

Something soft twists through me at the realization, making me fall a little bit deeper in love with him. God, he"s perfect. Tahani used to tell me all the time that he"s just a big teddy bear, and she"s right. He"s so fucking sweet.

He may be afraid to hurt me, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he won"t. For the first time since I asked him for two weeks together, I"m suddenly certain that this beautiful man would never, could never hurt me. I think he"d tear the world apart to keep me safe if he had to do it. He loves me, so much it brings tears to my eyes.

"Hey," I whisper, reaching up to touch his cheek. "You won"t hurt me. I"m a fucking warrior, remember?"

A tender smile spreads across his face before he catches my fingers and presses them to his lips while laying me on his bed. He follows me down, covering me with his hard body. He"s careful, holding himself above me on his forearms to keep from crushing me.

He leans down and kisses me, his lips ghosting across my forehead and then my eyelids before finally landing against my mouth. He kisses me gently, nibbling at my lips and then sliding his tongue inside my mouth. Mine twines against his, moving in time with his. He"s slow and soft as he kisses me breathless again.

I slide my arms around him, one hand playing through his wild hair. His chest brushes across my breasts with every exhalation, sending little ripples of desire through me. With each shift of his body against mine, those ripples grow, spreading outward.

When he finally breaks away from my mouth, panting, I"m trembling beneath him all over again.

He undresses me slowly, pulling my clothes from my body piece by piece. The key to his house gets lost somewhere along the way. His lips touch each inch of skin he unveils. He spends a little more time on the bruises across my ribcage, lavishing them with sweet little kisses.

By the time I"m naked beneath him, little moans roll from my lips and I can"t stay still.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" he asks, those hazel eyes glued to me. He lifts himself up from the bed and strips, his gaze never leaving my body. His eyes are dark, his cheeks flushed with arousal. That look is in his eyes again…the one that tells me that he"s hanging on by a thread, ready to lose control.

"So are you," I whisper, swallowing hard.

A man as big as he is shouldn"t be beautiful, but he is. His body is a work of art, every bit as incredible as the ITahanin sculptures that draw crowds. I have no idea what kind of workouts he has to do to look like that, but there"s no way in hell I"d ever be able to keep up with him. The discipline it must take to look like he does is staggering. But it looks good on him. God, does it ever look good on him.

He calls me a warrior, but I"m pretty sure he could be plopped down in the middle of some ancient battle and no one would question if he belonged there or not. Even if he was a foot shorter and not so muscular, they wouldn"t question him. Authority hangs in the air around him. Command radiates from him, whispering that he"s not someone you mess with, not if you want to survive. He"s dangerous, more than capable of killing to protect what belongs to him.

And he"s all mine.

"You"ll tell me if I hurt you," he says as he prowls toward me again, completely naked.

With his eyes on fire and his cock jutting, thick and proud, from his body, all I can do is nod in mute agreement.

He crawls up my body, his eyes locked on mine. He doesn"t stop until his big body covers mine again, shutting out everything but him and the stark need swirling through his eyes.

"I"m so fucking in love with you," he mumbles with a shake of his head. His forehead touches mine briefly, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. "God, Mila. You have no idea what you"re doing to me, do you?" One of his hands slides down my side and then around my hip. He lifts my leg, allowing himself to slip between my thighs.

I gasp when his cock bumps against my clit, but he doesn"t push inside me. Not yet. He just rests there, watching me. Always watching me.

"I never wanted this before you," he says, raining kisses across my face again. His breath washes across my skin, all mint and beer and him. That sweetness I can"t get enough of. "I never wanted much of anything before you." His teeth nip at my earlobe and then scrape down my neck. "But I wanted you the minute I saw you. And every minute since then, I"ve only wanted you more."

I cry out when he bites my neck, marking me again. He"s always marking me, making sure I know who I belong to. Making sure everyone knows who I belong to. Like there"s any doubt about that. I"m his. Since the day I walked into the dorm room and saw him standing there, I"ve been his. I tried to deny it. I tried to fight it. We both did. But we were always going to end up right here, just like this. It was inevitable. We were inevitable.

He moves down my body, pulling first one nipple and then the other into his mouth. He sucks and bites them until I"m a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. And then he moves on, nipping and biting my abdomen. His tongue dips into my belly button, his stubble scratching across my skin.

He talks to me the whole time, telling me how much he wants me. How much he needs me. He tells me that I"m the most beautiful thing he"s ever seen and that I take his breath away. And then his mouth is on my pussy, and he"s taking my breath away again. Stealing it from me as he makes love to me with his wicked tongue.

I moan and cry out, clenching and unclenching my fists. Sweat breaks out across my body, my temperature rising higher and higher as he slowly pushes me up a cliff. He takes his time, licking up every drop I give him until I can"t tell where I end, and he begins.

I come hard, crying out his name. My heart races, and waves of ecstasy break me open, scattering me to the winds. He picks up each piece, putting me back together with sweet words and steady hands.

"Just like fucking peaches," he murmurs, staring down at me with a wicked smile on his face when I finally come back to myself. He throws my leg over his hip again and pushes his way inside me. His head kicks back, a loud growl echoing around the room when he"s all the way in, so deep I know I"m still going to feel him tomorrow.

"Mila," he moans. "God, baby." His body practically vibrates as he fights himself, trying to stay in control. To take me slow and gentle like he wants to do. But that isn"t us. That isn"t him, and I don"t want slow and gentle. I want him, exactly like he is.

"Let go," I whisper, running my hands up and down his back. I drag my nails against his skin, not scratching and clawing like normal, but letting him know that I"m right here with him.

I tilt my hips upward, pushing him in a little further until the tip of his cock hits my cervix, and I"m teetering on that razor"s edge between pleasure and pain again. It"s that place only he takes me to. The one that I fucking live and breathe for.

"Fuck," he growls when I clench my inner muscles around him. His eyes meet mine again, and warmth shoots through me at the look there. He"s stripped raw, completely bare to me. Everything he feels for me is right there, burning so brightly in his eyes that it sears me.

"I love you, Roman," I whisper.

My words unravel him completely, fraying away the thin ropes of control that held him in check. He cries out, grasps my hip tightly, and begins to move.

Powerful thrusts send the bed into motion below me. It rocks back and forth as he takes me as hard as ever, striking so deeply, each wicked thrust has me clawing at his back and screaming his name. If my rib hurts, I don"t notice. I don"t notice anything except him and the way he makes love to me, embedding himself so deeply into my psyche, I know I"ll remember this moment when I"m old and gray and dying. I"ll remember him forever.

He demands that I tell him I love him over and over, just like I knew he would. I cry out the words, shouting them until I"m sure the neighbors can hear me. Every single time I say them, he holds me tighter and fucks me harder, never letting up. He"s like a machine, ruthless in his quest to love me to the brink of insanity.

I come again and then again, until I"m wrecked beneath him, pleading for mercy.

Then and only then does he ease off. His lips find mine again, his breathing ragged as he glides in and out of me. I hold on to him as tightly as I can, my arms and legs wrapped around him, clutching him to me. His heart pounds against my chest. His skin is slick with sweat.

He makes love to me slowly, gently, until I"m crying out his name and coming for him one more time.

He follows me over this time, thrusting deep and then stilling inside me. I hold him tightly as he comes apart in my arms, trembling and moaning my name. His head is thrown back, his eyes closed, and his lip between his teeth. He looks fierce and fiercely beautiful, and I fall a little bit deeper once more.

"I love you, Mila," he groans as he spills into me, filling me full of him. "Fuck, I love you."

"You never answered me," he whispers a long time later, pushing the hair back from my face so he can look into my eyes.

He"s rolled us over so I"m sprawled out on top of him. He"s still inside me, and I want to stay right here, just like this. He sounds worried, which makes me smile.

"I"ll move in with you," I tell him, too happy and too exhausted to tease him this time.

"Yeah?" he asks, hope shining in those gorgeous hazel eyes.

"Yeah," I whisper, knowing mine reflect the same thing right back at him.

He smiles like a little boy at Christmas again, all happiness and magic, and kisses me softly on the lips before reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp.

I fall asleep with his arms around me, and that little boy smile playing through my mind.

I jolt awake a little bit later, still wrapped up in his strong arms. He"s sleeping peacefully beneath me, still inside me. I"m not sure what woke me up, but something feels…off.

I lay on his chest for a long moment, trying to figure out what"s going on, and then I hear a door open below, followed by a scratching sound.

What the fuck?

Someone"s in the house.

Fear pumps through me, sending my heart into overdrive.

"Roman," I whisper, reaching out to shake him. Even though I"m on top of him, I can barely make him out in the dim light filtering in through the windows. With the shades drawn halfway, it"s not much.

He wakes up immediately and reaches for me, sliding one hand down my back to my ass. I feel him growing hard inside me and if I wasn"t so fucking scared, I"d laugh at the way he mumbles, "Fuck yeah, baby," like he thinks I"m waking him up for round two.

"There"s someone in the house," I hiss when he squeezes my ass cheek.

He freezes as soon as the words are out of my mouth. One second, he"s half asleep and feeling me up. The next, he"s wide awake and completely still beneath me.

A muffled thud filters up from downstairs.

"What the fuck?" He sits up, dragging me up with him. His body is completely rigid with tension, which sends another wave of fear running through me. He fumbles for the bedside table, cursing under his breath.

I slide off his lap, pulling the blankets up over us like they"re going to protect us from whoever is downstairs.

I hear the drawer on the table slide open, and then I hear Roman pull something out. Whatever it is knocks against the side of the drawer with a dull thud.

"Remember when you went shooting with me and Tahani a couple of years ago?" he asks me, his voice soft so it doesn"t carry.

I nod and then realize he can"t see me. "Yes," I whisper.

That day was the first and only time I ever shot a gun, but I didn"t suck at it. Roman had been impressed by how well I did and asked if I"d ever shot before. I still remember the way he smiled at me like he was proud of me.

The screen on his phone suddenly comes on, lighting up a little bit more of the room. Just enough for me to notice the gun in his hands and the murderous look on his face as he holds it out toward me.

A tremor of fear runs through me at his expression.

"Roman–"

"Take it, Mila."

My hands shake as I take the gun from him. The weight of the weapon in my hands causes another tremor to run through me, freezing me from the inside out.

"It"s loaded. If anyone comes through that door, you shoot as soon as you get a clear shot," he whispers, his voice deceptively soft. His phone lands in my lap. "Lock the door behind me and call 911."

Oh my God. He"s going out there.

"Roman–"

He jerks me toward him before I can beg him not to leave me in here alone and kisses me hard. "You pull the fucking trigger as soon as they step inside this room, baby," he whispers.

He"s really going out there.

I think I"m going to throw up or faint.

His lips touch mine again. "I love you, Mila."

Before I can say anything, he pulls away. Tears run down my face as he slips into the shadows of the room, disappearing like a ghost. He moves so silently that I can"t even tell where he is until the bedroom door creaks open.

"I love you," I whisper, so fucking scared I"m shaking as another thud filters into the room. With the door open, it sounds closer than before. Way too fucking close.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, I jump out of bed and hurry to the door, flipping the lock. Once it"s secure, I dive back into the bed, putting my back to the headboard. I"ve got his gun in one hand while I use the emergency button on his cell to dial 911.

I strain to hear anything from outside of the bedroom, but the only thing I can hear is my own panicked breathing and the phone ringing.

Please, please, I pray.

"911, what"s the address of your emergency?" a female dispatcher asks on the second ring.

I whisper the address into the phone, trying not to sob. "Someone"s in the house," I say after she repeats the address back to me. "My…" I don"t even know what to call Roman. What"s the word for someone who owns you, body and soul? I don"t have one. "Roman Gregory is a cop…an ATF agent. He went downstairs." A hysterical sob bubbles up, but I fight it back. "He"s alone, and there"s someone in the house. We need help."

"I"m dispatching officers to you now, ma"am. Are you somewhere safe?"

"I-I"m in the bedroom. I have his gun." Another tremor rips through me when I realize that I have his gun. I don"t know how that didn"t register before, but it didn"t. He"s downstairs alone, and he left his gun with me. He"s defenseless because he wanted to protect me. That realization cracks me wide open, fracturing me apart.

"Please hurry," I sob, more tears pouring down my face.

The dispatcher keeps talking, but I"m so fucking scared for Roman, I don"t hear her.

"Please let him be okay," I whimper, chanting the prayer over and over.

Please, God, just let him be okay.