Chapter Five

Iavoid the condo all day, driving in aimless circles around Santa Cruz until the sun sinks below the horizon and night descends over the city. My mind is stuck on the image of Mila standing in my bedroom, watching me get myself off. It"s stuck on the stricken look on her face when she turned and ran from me and on the fucking silence waiting on the other side of that door when I went after her.

Why did I go after her?

I told her I was sorry, but I"m not. Not really. I"m sorry I didn"t take her right then and there. I"m sorry she ran. I"m sorry for a lot of shit, but I can"t seem to find it in me to be sorry for what I did. I"m not sorry she caught me. I"m not sorry for a damn thing I said.

"I"m so fucked," I mumble when I pull into the driveway close to midnight and see her car is still there. I honestly wasn"t sure she"d stick around after what happened. I wouldn"t have blamed her if she ran and didn"t look back. But I wanted her to be here for a thousand reasons that I"ve tried all fucking day to convince myself still matter.

I"m no longer sure they do…if they ever really did at all. I crave her. Her sweet smile. Her curvy body. That angelic voice. Her. Something about her—hell, everything about her—drives me wild for reasons I can"t even articulate to myself. I"m just fucking done trying to deny it.

Tahani is going to kill me.

As I climb from my truck and head toward the house, that doesn"t matter much either. This thing with Mila feels inevitable…like it was only a matter of time until it played out one way or another. And fuck if I"m strong enough to say no now that it"s started.

When I step through the front door, tossing my keys into the glass bowl on the credenza, the condo is quiet. The living room, kitchen, and hallway upstairs are dark.

Is she in her room?

Fuck. Is she even here?

"Mila?" My steps are heavy as I climb the stairs, tension twisting my stomach into knots. The door to the guestroom sits slightly ajar. I push it open and peer inside. The bed is neatly made, and the blue comforter and accent pillows look fresh and clean. Mila"s stuff is littered all over the room, clothes strewn across the floor and over the arm of the chair in the corner.

The sight has my heart slamming against my ribcage.

She didn"t leave. Her car was still outside, but I didn"t really believe she"d still be here.

Where the fuck is she?

"Mila?" I call her name again, pulling her door closed. I jog back down the stairs and then turn in a circle. A shard of fear starts to spread through me when I still can"t find her. I have to remind myself, again, that there"s no way Guerrero"s people found this place. And then a flicker of light catches my attention, pulling me up short. I start toward the doors to the patio to investigate, swallowing hard when I catch sight of her.

She"s standing on the deck, wrapped in a blanket. A bottle of wine rests on the railing beside her, empty save for the few sips left in the glass in her hand. She has her head tilted up, her face turned toward the sky. Clouds rolled in at some point during the day, obscuring the stars in thick bands of milky white. She doesn"t seem to mind their absence. She"s fixated on the sky as if searching for answers among the heavens. With her blonde hair tumbling down her back, she looks like a goddess, made for nights like this.

If she hears me coming, she doesn"t say anything.

I step up behind her, so close the warmth of her body sears into me. My breath fans pieces of her hair, causing her to shiver.

"You"re back," she mumbles then, her words slurred.

She leans back against me like she can"t stop herself from seeking out my heat. Every muscle in my body relaxes at the feel of her curves against me. Even through the thin blanket, she"s soft and sweet, and some fucked up part of me wants her to be mine.

I wrap an arm around her waist, bury my face in her hair, and breathe her in. She smells like peaches, sunshine, and sweet wine.

She doesn"t fight me. Instead, she hums, the sound full of contentment, and presses closer.

Christ, she feels good in my arms. Her petite body fits against mine like she was made for me.

"I didn"t think you were coming back," she says after a minute.

Not even the devil himself could have kept me from coming back. Had she left, I think I would have gone after her. I don"t tell her that, though. It"s another item in a long list of shit I can"t, or won"t, confess to her.

"Are you drunk, Mila?" My cock is so hard it hurts. I want to slip inside her, lose myself in her soft little body. But I want her stone-cold sober when it happens. In every fantasy I"ve ever had, she"s been right there with me, stroke for stroke. I want her drunk on me and what I do to her, not on anything else.

"No. Yes." She laughs quietly, tipping her head back to look at me over her shoulder. Her pupils are dilated, her expression soft and open. "I needed liquid courage."

"Why?" I turn her in my arms with my hand around her waist until she"s facing me, her body flush against mine. My cock presses insistently against her belly, but she doesn"t seem to mind. If she notices at all, she doesn"t comment on it or push me away. Taking her wine glass from her, I set it on the railing beside the empty wine bottle.

She tilts her head back to meet my gaze.

"Tell me why, Mila."

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and hesitation slides through those green eyes. A trembling breath rushes from her mouth, more excitement and nervousness than fear. She studies me for a long moment, searching for something again. Whatever she sees in my eyes seems to give her courage. Her expression firms as if she"s made a decision.

"I"m not asking for a relationship," she says, her voice trembling and sweet. "I know you don"t date or whatever. That"s fine. I don"t…I"m not asking to be your girlfriend."

How the fuck does she know I don"t date? Did Tahani tell her?

"What are you asking, Mila? What do you want from me?"

She blows out a breath.

"I want you to fuck me, Roman."

Jesus.

She"s said those words to me a thousand times in my fantasies, but hearing them out loud is infinitely better. My mouth goes dry. My heart slams against my ribcage. I think I"m speechless for the first time in my life.

Lucky for me, she isn"t waiting for a response, instead forging ahead, tripping over her words in a rush to get them out before she loses the nerve."I want the same things you said you want. I want…I want…I want to know what you feel like inside me and on top of me." She hesitates again, her lip between her teeth. "I"ve never done anything like this before," she whispers. "Damien and I never… Well, that doesn"t matter. My point is that I don"t know how this works, but I"m here for two weeks. We don"t have to tell Tahani or anyone else. It"ll be our secret."

Two weeks.

She"s offering me two weeks with her. Two weeks to do every dirty thing I"ve ever wanted to do to her. Two weeks to hold her, to fuck her, to work her out of my system and get over whatever the fuck it is about her that makes me feel like I"m spinning out of control.

"No strings," she says, like that"s a hard limit for her. "No commitments. No rules."

Yeah, her ex was a fucking idiot.

"That"s what you want?" I ask, tilting my head down until my lips almost touch hers. I can smell the wine on her breath. The scent is intoxicating. I want to lean a little closer and see if it tastes as sweet on her tongue as I imagine it does. But I don"t. Not yet. "You want me on you for two weeks, baby? You want me to be your first?"

We both know that"s what she"s really asking for here. She wants me to be her first.

"Yes," she moans.

Goddamn, what man wouldn"t agree to what she"s offering? Two weeks of exploring her body. Two weeks of making her scream my name. Two weeks of doing whatever the fuck I want to her while she begs me for more. But I"m not sure she understands the ramifications of her choice.

With a bottle of wine pumping through her system, is it even possible for her to comprehend the things I want to do to her? There"s nothing gentle about the way I want her. There"s nothing sweet about the filthy shit I think about doing to her. Her first time shouldn"t be with a motherfucker like me. The fact that I"m so willing to take what she"s offering is proof enough of that.

"Kiss me, Roman," she whispers.

I shouldn"t, but I pull her closer anyway. My lips find hers in the quasi-darkness.

I was right. Her mouth is sweet…so fucking sweet.

Her lips are soft as they move against mine, her breath warm. She tastes like peaches and wine. I tilt her head in my hands, deepening the kiss. A growl rumbles in my throat when her tongue touches mine, tentative, questioning…begging. Soft sounds whisper from her lips, little moans that leave my self-control in tatters.

Ripping the blanket away from her, I toss it to the side. My hands go back to her waist. The wine bottle and glass topple off the deck into the sand below as I lift her, placing her on the railing so I can get closer, deeper. Her legs immediately go around my waist, pulling me into her. Her hands are in my hair, tugging and pulling. She"s not gentle, and I fucking love the little pinpricks of pain followed by pleasure.

"Roman," she moans, wriggling that sexy little ass so she grinds against me.

My dick presses hard against my zipper. Every single part of me wants to rip her shorts and panties down her legs and thrust into her. I knew…I fucking knew she"d go wild for me when I got my hands on her.

"Fuck," I snarl and then bite her bottom lip. My heart races, the desire to strip her bare pounding through me with each heavy beat. I want her right here and now, bent over the railing. I don"t care who hears us. The entire damn planet could listen to her scream my name, and it wouldn"t change a fucking thing for me.

What is she doing to me?

When she reaches between us, her hand grazing my cock, I know I have to slow this down. Regardless of what she said, I won"t take her when she isn"t sober. If we do this, I want to be fucking certain it"s what she wants.

By some miracle, that reminder gives me a little control back. Just enough to pull my mouth from hers and catch her hand in mine.

Her eyes fly open, her gaze locking on my face. Her pupils are dilated, her cheeks flushed. Her plump lips are swollen. She looks like an angry little cat, pissed because I took away her favorite meal. It"s so fucking cute; I"m caught off guard by the feeling that look on her face sends bolting through me. It"s warm and soft.

What the fuck?

Instead of trying to answer that question, I wrap my arms around her, tucking her into my chest. She comes willingly, laying her head against my pec with a contented little sigh.

I hold her there for a long moment.

"You stopped," she grumbles then, pouting. She sounds sleepy.

I fight the urge to smile, burying my face in her hair to hide my chuckle.

"Yeah," I mumble.

She sighs again but doesn"t say anything else. Within minutes, she"s asleep against my chest.

I stand there with her for a long time, staring out at the ocean, trying to fight back the unfamiliar feeling creeping through me. It"s an ache in the center of my chest, a desire I"ve never felt before. She said I don"t date, and she"s right. I don"t catch feelings. I don"t fall in love. That kind of shit isn"t for me. Keeping Tahani out of the crosshairs is hard enough. I don"t want a family in the same position Brady put his in. But with Mila?

Well, shit is always different with her. And that"s the problem. She"s different. She"s always been different.

I could easily see myself falling for her, building a future with her.

That shit can"t happen.

"Two weeks," I remind myself. Two weeks is all I get, and then she"s gone. The clock has barely even started, and already, I"m dreading the end.