Page 58 of Unstable

His brows drew together. “Then why did you get them?”

This time, he loosened his hold as she put some space between them, knowing she needed it. “It wasn’t my decision to make.”

His eyes darkened as the implication sank in, but he didn’t say a word as she continued. “I was a late bloomer. My first agent, Earl, said I would never make it if I looked like a little boy. And, at seventeen, I still hadn’t sprouted. So Mama signed off on the surgery, and…”

She shrugged like it didn’t still hurt, then laughed. “I surprised everyone when I grew two cup sizes after the augmentation.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he was silent for a long moment. Finally, he propped himself up on an elbow as he stared down at her. “Can’t you have a reduction done?”

She shook her head. “I could, but I don’t want to. I hate being put under. I don’t like the feel of it, the way I lose whole periods of time. I know it’s dumb, but⁠—”

“It’s not dumb. I know exactly what you mean. It’s the same reason you hate those pills.”

She couldn’t believe he’d listened to her. She swallowed down the tears that threatened at the back of her throat. “Yeah. Just like the pills.”

He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. “Do they bother you?”

“Physically? No.” She hesitated for a moment. “It’s just… I know a lot of people judge me because of the way I look.”

He pushed to a sitting position. “Idiots.”

“You did the same thing,” she said softly. So much had happened between them since then, but the reminder sent a little pang of hurt shooting through her chest.

He must have read it in her eyes, because he moved before she could stop him, kneeling between her legs and placing his hands on the mattress on either side of her shoulders, caging her in with his huge body. “I was wrong. About all of it.”

“I’m sure,” she said derisively, staring at his chest instead of meeting his eyes. “Don’t most men love big breasts?”

“Most,” he agreed, leaning forward and kissing her. Her heart fluttered as his lips teased hers, the kiss painstakingly tender and sweet. He moved to one cheek, then the other, and her eyes closed as he left a trail of kisses over her face before working his way down her throat.

She felt the scrape of stubble as his chin brushed her skin, and she cracked her eyes open. She swallowed hard, battling the insecurity sweeping up her spine.

“But I love yours”—he dipped his head and kissed the space over her heart—“because they’re part of you.”

His words caught her completely off guard, and she couldn’t stop the tears from springing to her eyes. She snapped her eyelids shut, but she knew Roman had seen, because one hand cradled her face a second later.

“Irina.”

His tone demanded she look at him, and she somehow summoned the courage to meet his gaze through the sheen of moisture.

His thumb stroked her cheek and he leaned so close their noses almost brushed. “You are perfect. Don’t ever doubt that.”

His words, coming out barely more than a whisper, made her melt. She threw her arms around his wide shoulders and pulled him down, burying her face in his neck.

He pulled back a minute later and dropped a brief kiss on her lips. “Come on, trouble. I’m starving.”

Reluctantly, she slid from the bed and dressed, pulling on the closest things at hand, which happened to be the camisole and shorts she’d set out to sleep in last night but never had a chance to wear. A smile split her face as her gaze landed on the red dress pooled on the floor.

Roman caught her around the waist as she moved toward the door, and he pulled her in close. One large hand framed her face, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. He searched her eyes for a long moment, then dipped his head and claimed her mouth. This kiss spoke of dominance and possession, and she felt herself lean into him.

There was no turning back from this. At some point over the past couple of weeks, she’d given him a huge part of her heart that she would never get back. She only hoped that he would be true to his word and not break it.

Because she knew it would never be whole again if he did.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

Roman sat sprawled on the couch, legs propped on the coffee table in front of him. Irina was spread out beside him, her feet in his lap. He glanced down and smiled. Tonight’s fuzzy socks had pink and blue stripes and came halfway up to her knees.