“No,” she gasps, her voice cracking as she throws her hands up, her palms flat out in the air between us. “Don’t touch me.”
“Romy...” I freeze in my tracks.
“I mean it, Vik, don’t,” Romy breathes, taking a step back, closing the door behind her as she does so. “Every single time you touch me, all I can think about is you sinking inside me, chasing my orgasm, and forgetting the outside world exists. Then I forget what I’m upset about. We have to talk, Vik. Right now. No distractions, no kissing, and no touching.”
“Okay, we’re talking. Please calm down, though. I don’t want you upset.” I keep my hands at my sides, loving that I make her lose all track of life and it’s not just me whose head is all fucked up.
“Fine.” A single tear breaks free, tracing a wet path down her flushed cheek. My palms clench into fists, wanting nothing more than to console her, except I know Romy, and shutting her up with a kiss won’t help at this point. “It’s been weeks, months, actually, we’ve lived together, we sleep together, we eat together, and maybe part of it’s my fault because I’ve been focusing on growing our child, working, and having copious amounts of sex. I need to know why. You never told me the reason behind your anti-children and anti-relationship stance in the first place. Vik, you’re this amazing, attentive man who cooks for me, rubs my feet, holds me while I’m sick, and why are you still living in my apartment? It’s too small!” She gestures wildly to herself, hand settling on the rounded swell of her stomach. “Between me, my growing belly, and your big, burly body it’s like we’re smooshed in that old nursery rhymeThere Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. We are living in a shoe, Vik!”
“I’ll tell you everything,” I say, my voice dropping to a low, steady rumble, trying to project a calm I don’t really feel. Seeing Romy standing in the building I’ve spent years building, fiercely defending her boundaries while looking so breathtaking beautiful growing our child, it nearly brings me to my knees. I’m also trying not to laugh at her visualization of living inher postage stamp of an apartment. “I’ll answer every single question you have. As long as you sit down and drink some water. I’m assuming you ran here from the restaurant?” She sniffles, bitting her lower lip while remaining stubbornly rooted to the spot. “And about the apartment.” I cross my arms over my chest to keep from grabbing her. “We would be in my penthouse right now if you weren’t adamant about staying where you’re comfortable.”
“Well, I don’t want to be high in the sky!” she shoots right back, her chin tilting up defensively. “I don’t want a glass box above the city for a baby. I want my feet on the ground or as near to the ground as they can possibly be.
“Fine, we’ll go house hunting this weekend. We’ll find a place with a yard, near the ground, or whatever you want.” I don’t hesitate with my response.
“Oh. Oh. Well, we still really have to talk about the rest.” Romy blinks, completely thrown off balance with how quickly I’ve conceded.
“Then sit,” I command gently, walking over to the small refrigerator disguised in the cabinetry. I pull out a cold bottle of water, twist the cap off, and walk back to her. This time, she lets me get close. I guide her with the palm of my hand on her lower back to the plush sofa in the corner of my office. Romy sinks into the cushions, looking tiny against the dark leather, and takes the water from my hand, taking a few small sips. I don’t sit opposite of her, instead, I drop to my ass on the wood coffee table. My knees brush hers, and it places me at her level. I take a moment to compose myself before digging into the shadows of a past I’ve spent a lifetime trying to bury.
“Vik.” Whatever Romy sees in my eyes has her fingers linking through mine.
“You want to know why I was anti-children and why I didn’t want a relationship.” I trail off for a moment. “My childhood…my father was a bastard, an absolute monster. He spent years beating me and my mother black and blue, every single time he had too much to drink or when the world didn’t go his way. Neither of us could do anything about it because Mom is smaller, fragile, and if I fought back, he’d take it out on her more.” Romy’s breath hitches, eyes widening with deep sorrow. “I grew up terrified of my own skin,” I admit, the confession tasting like cigarette ash in my mouth. “I have his blood running through my veins. The worry sat in the pit of my stomach that if I ever had a child of my own, the same sickness would wake up inside of me. I didn’t want his blood to be passed down. I thought the safest thing I could do for the world was to ensure the Orlov name ends with me. Then I met you, we created this baby, and once I didn’t have you and found out you were carrying the best part of me, I realized I’m already better than him.”
“Oh, Vik.” Her hand tightens around mine, and it takes everything I have not to pull her into my lap.
“I work for one thing. I can control my drinking—albeit, I did a hell of a lot more than I should have when you weren’t around and I was trying to dull the pain in my chest, but I saw through my own bullshit. I looked in the mirror and realized that the woman I loved would slip right through my fingers if I didn’t get my shit together and face my demons.”
“You… you love me?” she whispers, staring at me, her voice barely a breath. A rough, self-deprecating laugh escapes my chest. “I more than love you, Romy. I’d rip my heart out of my chest and lay it in the palm of my hands. I figure I’ve shown it in every single thing I’ve done since the day you’ve returned to my life. Obviously, I screwed up since I haven’t said the words. So, let me tell you.” I shift closer, my thighs opening hers, my hands cradling her face, my thumbs sweeping away the remnants of her tears. “I love you, Romy Laurent. I love you so much it terrifies me. I’m done running from it, though. I’d marry youtomorrow, buy a house for our family today. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you at every single turn possible. You’re it for me, you and our baby, and any future children we may have.”
The tears spill over her lashes again, and the sorrow in her face fractures, replaced by a radiant, blinding joy. Before I can even register the shift, she moves. Romy drops the water bottle to the couch beside her and tackles me. The force of her movement makes me scramble to switch places with her, and thankfully, she had the forethought to finish her drink, or we’d be sitting in water. She straddles my thighs, and her sundress hikes up, showing me her smooth, delicious, creamy skin.
“I love you.” Her arms lock around my neck, her body pressing as flush against me as she can get with her swollen with my baby stomach. “I love you, and you’re not your father. You’re nothing like him, and I know you’ll do anything in your power to be anything short of amazing.” She cries against my lips, her voice a beautiful, chaotic mix of tears and happiness.
“Now I’m going to show you exactly how much I love you.” My hands slide up the top of her thighs, thumbs sweeping inward, and when she lets out a soft little moan, I know she’s all for it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
romy
Ishift on Vik’s lap. My sundress is already rucked high around my hips from when I tackled him, leaving only my panties and his clothes between me and his thick cock. The friction of my bare thighs against his expensive suit pants is agonizingly sharp, a tease that makes a soft, needy whimper catch in my throat.
“Hmm.” Vik hears it, his eyes darkening to a near-black. His commanding edge is right on the surface when he realizes I’m more than ready for him to sink inside me.
“Christ, beautiful,” he grunts. He doesn’t waste another second. With an ease that makes my head spin, his hands slip down my torso, grip the fabric of my sundress, and pull it over my head in one fluid, urgent motion. Not much has changed when Vik undresses me, the material is flung to the floor—without breaking eye contact. I sit in his lap in only my bra and panties, the coolness of the room brushing against my bare skin, making my nipples pebble instantly.
Vik’s gaze tracks down the length of my chest, the swollen curve of my breasts, and then the distinctly rounded belly of being eighteen weeks along. Between the reverence in his lookand the heat in his eyes, he is making me burn from the inside out.
“Vik,” I moan as his hands move to the waistband of my lace panties. There’s no gentleness in the movement. Only pure demand. I lift up, immediately realizing what he’s about to do. A sharp, sudden tug, and he rips the delicate fabric to shreds. A quick flick of the clasp between my breasts and rolling of my shoulders frees me completely.
“Christ, Romy,” he groans. The loss of my barriers makes me bold. I attack his clothes with a frantic, desperate energy of my own. My fingers fly to the front of his custom-tailored button-up black shirt, my knuckles scraping against his solid chest as I tear at the buttons.
“Fair is fair.” A few of them pop off, scattering across the floor, but neither of us cares. I shove the fabric off his broad, tanned shoulders, exposing the rigid, muscular ridges of his torso, mapping the hard lines of his abs with my palms. I don’t stop moving until my hands fumble with the heavy silver buckle of his belt. My fingers tremble, slick with need and anticipation, making me curse under my breath as I fight against the leather.
“Rory, beautiful, let me,” Vik murmurs, his voice rough, but I push his hands away.
“No,” I gasp, determination dripping in my voice. “I want to do it.” I finally manage to pop the belt open before quickly moving to the button then tugging on his zipper. The moment the tracks part, his thick, rigid length springs free, hot and throbbing against his abdomen. I wrap my hand around his thick dick. The tip is dripping with his precum, and my palm is instantly coated in the slickness.
“Fuck, beautiful,” Vik groans low in his throat, his head falling back against the cushion of the couch as my fingers squeeze him, sliding up and down his cock, twisting my wrist how he likes it. I’m tempted to get on my knees and take himin my mouth, except since I’ve been pregnant, all I’ve wanted is him inside me, not in my hand or with my lips wrapped around his length. Nope, I want his cock in my pussy at every waking minute.
