“You’re not moving to New York,” I say, my voice dropping into a tone that brokers no argument. “And you’re sure as hell not staying in this apartment alone. You’re packing your things, Romy. You’re moving in with me. Today.” Her jaw drops, the sleep-riddled paleness on her cheeks suddenly flush with a bright crimson. She takes a step back, her hands fly to her hips, and she gives me a look of pure hell.
“No.” Her voice is sharp and full of defiance. “Absolutely not. Are you out of your ever-loving mind?”
“Romy—” I go to interrupt.
“No, you listen to me, Vik!” she barks back, chest heaving beneath my old T-shirt, her pebbled nipples doing fuck all for my raging cock. “You don’t get to barge into my apartment and start issuing orders. I’m not one of your employees. You told merepeatedly, over and over again, that you never wanted a family, that your life was built for a party of one. Now, I won’t keep your child from you because I’m not a bitch, but you are not bossing me around or forcing me into your penthouse, and we are absolutely not having a relationship just because I’m pregnant!”
The wordrelationshiphits me in the solar plexus, but it’s the fury in her eyes that finally breaks the last of my control.
“Dammit, Rory. What I want is you!” I roar, stepping into her space until her back meets the wall. “I wanted you the second you walked out of my life. I’ve been miserable without you. I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten, and I’ve been drowning in my own office because the thought of going home to nothing but silence without you there is killing me. If you’d have taken a single one of my calls or answered a text, you would have known that.”
“Oh, please.” Romy’s eyes flash with tears. She blinks them away, refusing to let them fall. Her hands push against my solid chest, but I don’t move an inch. “I didn’t see you banging on my door for weeks, Vik. I didn’t see you breaking boundaries until Alex told you a lie and you thought I was moving across the country. You didn’t want me—you just didn’t want to lose control.” Her voice breaks. Christ, I’m an asshole.
“Fuck the control,” I growl. I’m done talking, done negotiating, done analyzing, and done letting my messed-up past dictate my future. Before she can utter another word of protest, I lunge. My hands cup her cheeks, large hands framing her face, fingers burying deep into her tangled hair. I pull her body flush against mine, lifting her slightly off her feet until her tits are crushed against my chest, her hips locking tightly against mine. Romy lets out a sharp, breathless gasp. Her hands fly to my wrists to push me away, but the moment her skin met mine, her resistance dissolves into a quiet whimper.
“Being with you, feeling you, it’s what I want, now and always,” I whisper against her lips, voice raw with a desperate,heavy truth. “And I’m never letting you go again.” The moment I bring my mouth down on hers, everything quiets. A brutal, beautiful collision of weeks of misery and a lifetime of unsaid words. I don’t hold back. I pour every ounce of hunger, terror, and adoration into our mouths meeting. My tongue parts her lips with a possessive, dominant stroke, claiming her with a fierce intensity that has Romy sinking into me.
She lets out a soft, ragged moan. Her fingers abandon my wrists and dig into my dark, messy hair, pulling me closer, arching her body into mine as the heat between us explodes into a wild, out-of-control flame. The taste of her is intoxicating and she floods my senses.
I groan deep in my throat, a primal heavy sound that vibrates on her chest. My hands slide down from her face, my palms scraping over the soft fabric of her shirt, tracing the curve of the sides of her breasts, hearing her sharp intake of breath before moving lower. My palms meet the small of her back, and then I’m lifting her higher, pressing her back against the wall further, and my thigh wedges between her legs to anchor her to me. It also gives her the friction she’s after; I feel her wetness soaking through my pants. She pulls at my shirt as her lips move against mine with a matching hunger.
I kiss her until her breaths are short, her gasps are jagged, and only then do I move my lips from her mouth to trail a burning path down the column of her throat. My teeth gently nip at the sensitive skin over her pulse point. Romy throws her head back, a sob escapes her lips, and she holds on like I’m her life raft in a turbulent storm.
“Vik.” Her voice is a trembling thread of desire. I pull back an inch and rest my forehead against hers, my chest heaving as I look at her flush face, swollen lips, and eyes full of desire. I keep my hands locked on her ass, holding her tightly against my body, letting her roll her hips and use me to get off. This right here,it’s more than me making her come, it’s making Romy mine. Her and our unborn child.
CHAPTER NINE
vik
She works her body, using me to get off, while I keep working her with my mouth, sucking on her skin, moving from one side to the other. My hands grip her ass as I help her grind her hot pussy on me, nearly losing it when I peer down the length of her body. She’s straddling my thigh, clenching her legs, rocking her hips, and while I can feel how wet she is, seeing it is something else entirely. I haven’t had her like this in weeks, her bare cunt, glistening lips, and clit swollen.
This is sheer fucking torture, but I don’t deserve anything less. I so badly want to shift her to where both legs are wrapped around my waist, undo my pants, and plant myself so deep inside her, she doesn’t know where I begin or end.
Romy leans forward, her fingers digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Fuck, does it make my blood roar. Her breathing trembles, catching in the back of her throat as she shifts her hips a fraction of an inch forward, pressing her core directly along the hard ridge of the top of my thigh.
“Vik,” she gasps, her voice a ragged whisper that hits me straight in my dick. “I’m right there.”
“I’ve got you.” I grit my teeth, voice rough. My hands twitch at her waist, forcing myself not to take over. This is all for her.She closes her eyes, head titling back as she finds the perfect angle. A sound breaks free from her lips that’s pure sin—a soft whimper that has me gritting my teeth. I watch the column of her throat move as she swallows, watch the flush creep from her chest to her cheeks. Each small movement between us is driving me insane.
“Vik!” My name is a loud, sharp, crying gasp, her body riding the wave of her climax. What I’d give to have her cunt gripping my cock like it is my thigh right about now. I let out a deep breath; my heart is hammering like a stampede of wild horses against my ribs. I go to wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me, but she suddenly pushes back the slightest bit.
“Don’t think this changes anything.” Her green eyes are nearly black with desire when she looks me dead in the eye. “I’m still so fucking mad at you, and we still have a lot to talk about.”
“I know.” A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth despite the ache in my groin.
“Good,” she replies on a whisper. This time, it’s her who leans into me until her lips seal to mine. She tastes like the sweetest piece of heaven. While her mouth goes after mine, punishing and demanding, her hand begins a slow, deliberate descent. She drags her palm down the length of my chest, stopping at my heart, feeling the rhythm of my frantically beating heart. Down further she goes, over the planes and rigid muscles of my abdomen, until she reaches the waistband of my pants. Without breaking our kiss, she slides her hand lower and cups my cock through the fabric
I groan against her mouth, low and guttural. The heat of her palm, the firm, squeezing pressure of her fingers surrounding me has me losing control of whatever restraint I have left. Our talk, her anger, my aggravation. It can wait. Right now, there’s only this. I grip her thighs, lifting her higher and resituating her to where both of her legs are now wrapped around my waist.
Rory lets out a purr, taking her mouth away from mine and burying her face in the crook of my neck. She inhales sharply as I carry her through the room. Each step I take jars her against my acing cock, a sweet torture that has me gritting my teeth. I keep moving until her back meets the living room couch and her ass is on the armrest. I come down over her body, pinning her to the cushions, my hands gripping the hem of her shirt.
I need it off.
I need to see her.
I need to feel her.
I’m desperate as I pull the shirt up and over her head, tossing it somewhere in the midst of the room. When I look back down, the breath leaves my lungs. The soft light of the morning washes over her golden skin, making me ache to look at. But it’s the changes in her that make my chest tighten with an ache I’ve never felt before. My hands cup her breasts that are visibly fuller, heavy and swollen with her pregnancy. Nipples darker, fucking pebbled tighter than ever, too. I glide my thumbs over them, watching goosebumps pebble along her flesh.
