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“What if I have a different thing to gain?” She licked her lips; again, he tracked the movement with a stare that burned ever hotter. She knew exactly what he would ask her for, should he accept her offer. “What if I want to make you come?”
Roman was silent.
And then he swore, the word low and rough. He ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. “I can’t handle you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you say things that make me want to explode all over your face, Shayla.”
He undid his belt—he hadn’t undressed last night before getting into bed—and when she glimpsed his tan skin underneath, and his cock straining to be let out, she felt that area between her legs pulse with a need as strong as Roman’s stare. He was big—he didn’t need to take off his pants for her to tell. And she wanted every inch of him inside her. Now. Gods, she wanted it right now.
“Put your mouth on me,” he commanded, his words soaking her panties, “and we’ll talk about your sixth day after.”
Afterward, Shay walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Faced herself in the mirror.
Her face was flushed, her lips rosy and swollen. Her eyes were bright with intensity, and parts of her still pulsed with the longing to be touched. But today was Roman’s turn.
What was happening to her? She’d spent too much time in the desert with Roman Devlin, that was what. She bet he did this kind of thing with plenty of other girls—and was only bothering with her now because she had coerced him into shacking up with her for five days in the middle of nowhere. The man was probably bored out of his mind—and she was merely a toy for him to play with.
He'd warned her not to get attached, and she was intent on cooperating. There was no point in mulling over what they were doing out here, no point in fretting over the thought of him with other girls.
The man wasn’t hers, and he never would be. Even if they wanted to be together, and even if being with him was allowed, they were too different. They were worlds apart, and as soon as she found her sister, she was leaving Yveswich. Roman Devlin would go back to being a stranger—a brief fling she would forget about after a few weeks.
As she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she had settled on two simple facts.
She was an idiot for getting physically involved with him. And no amount of weeks could ever make her forget about the Shadowmaster from the Hollow.
Roman went outside for a smoke—and to ask himself what in the hell he thought he was doing.
Getting involved with a Darkslayer from another house was forbidden. Doing so could get you killed—slowly and painfully. Death came for those who broke the rules, and the one who sent him was Donovan Slade. The man loved when his people broke the rules.
Had Roman been the only person involved in this screwup, he wouldn’t have cared so much, but he wasn’t breaking those rules on his own. And if anyone found out what he and Shay were doing out here, there’d be hell to pay.
Any other girl, and he wouldn’t have cared. Would’ve thrown her to the wolves, because he was one himself. But he was beginning to realize that he was in over his head. He was drowning in Shayla Cousens, and the most concerning part was how much he enjoyed losing himself in the waves.
About an hour later, Shay was picking at the fruit and muffins Roman had brought into the room for her when she heard a car roll up outside.
A bad feeling twisted in her stomach.
She set the plate on the bed. Got up and crossed the room. Peeked through the curtains—
At the sight of the black car, the tall woman with strawberry-blonde hair, and the burly man who accompanied her, she dropped the curtain and backed up until the backs of her legs hit the bed.
The curtains swayed. Through the sliver of space between them, Shay watched as the couple evaluated the parking lot and tiny motel with shrewd gazes, their mouths twisting with disgust.
Shay’s breakfast threatened to come back up.
Roman came out of the bathroom—showered and dressed in black jeans and a white shirt, hair wet, boots laced up. The plan was to go back to the Facility and have a better look around, and now that plan was wrecked.
Roman’s dark brows lowered, throwing his honeyed eyes into deep shadow. “What’s going on, pup?”
Shay couldn’t find her voice.
“Pup?” He came closer, bringing that churning storm of energy with him. And that scent of his—the cologne, the body wash, him. That scent was all over her. All. Over. Her. He reached for her but didn’t touch, his fingers squeezing into a fist in the air between them. “Shayla.”
She faced him with wide eyes. “My mom is here.”
There was no point in hiding. Shay had forgotten all about her little slip-up—how the motel room was registered under her real name. Hiding their auras, turning off their phones… All of it had been for nothing.
