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He needs to make quite the effort to tip the balance into the hero category. At this point, it’s not looking so good. But I’m not willing to give up just yet. For the sake of my own sanity, I can’t give up. Perhaps he needs a push, or a reason, to do good rather than evil.
“Why are you trying to flay me open with your stare?” he grumbles, finally glancing up from his phone.
“I don’t think you killed your wife,” I blurt. One of us has to be open and honest or we’ll never have a conversation that lasts more than a millisecond.
He frowns. “Good for you.” His attention returns to his phone’s screen.
I lean forward. “I think you arranged our betrothal to get back at my father, or maybe Nik, but deep down you really did it because you’re lonely.”
His gaze flicks up to meet mine. The expression on his face is unreadable, carefully guarded by that neutral mask. His eyes search mine, but I can’t tell what he finds there. Honesty, perhaps?
“I liked you better when you were running scared.” Ah, now we’re back to villainous Roman.
“That was a moment of weakness. I promise it won’t happen again.” Strangely, after this morning, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not afraid of him. Seeing the beast in broad daylight seems to have helped me gain a clearer perspective of him. Or maybe it was the full-frontal nudity this morning that did the trick. He certainly didn’t look so threatening completely naked. Except for thatthingbetween his legs. I’ll never get that image out of my mind. It fills me with both curiosity and doubt, because surely it won’t fit…down there. It’s impossible, isn’t it?
Do all virgins have the same thought, or is this a result of my sheltered upbringing? Ginevra once broke Papa’s rule and hid a toy in her room. She showed it to Arianna and me, but even that dildo wasn’t as large as what Roman’s packing in those tailored trousers.
Do all men look like that? Or is Roman unique in that area?
“Penny for your thoughts,” he breaks through my musings.
My cheeks instantly flush and I avert my gaze from the general direction of his crotch. My new fiancé literally caught me thinking about his dick over dinner. White-hot horror sweeps through me. I feel his yellow-hazel gaze bore into the side of my averted face.
He clicks his tongue. “Well, that’s an interesting reaction to such a simple question.”
I’m going to curl up under the table and die from embarrassment.
“Bright red cheeks, rapid pulse, dilated pupils. Tell me, principessa, are you thinking naughty thoughts?”
God strike me down now and take me away.
Roman rises from his seat. He circles around the table, keeping his gaze locked on me. I try to avoid making eye contact, but as he comes closer we’re like magnets, unable to resist each other. He lifts me up, sits in my chair, and sets me in his lap.
Immediately his whiskey-vanilla scent swims up my nose and straight to my brain. His muscles are hard beneath my butt and at my back. He loops his arms around my waist, caging me against him. With one hand, he tilts my chin up until our gazes collide.
“You clearly stated how you’re no longer afraid of me, so your pounding heartbeat must be from some other emotion than fear. Is it anger…or lust?” He skims his thumb across my lips and they part, catching his attention. “I see.”
Without warning, he lifts me up like I weigh nothing at all, and repositions me so that I’m straddling his waist, my legs dangling, my hot pussy—that’s what Ginevra said it’s called when it gets wet and tingly—presses against his erection.
He’s hard. Again.
Fascinating.
This version of Roman is what I callhot Roman. He’s neither good nor evil. Though I swear he’s hellbent on driving me crazy with his touch. I never know how long it’s going to last untilcold Romantakes over again. All I can do is hang on for the ride and see where it takes me.
So far this is what I’ve learned about the man who’s taken me captive. From his behavior in the kitchen last night, to this morning when I literally kicked him out of his own bed, and later as he threatened me in front of my family.
I’m not sure what to expect next, all I know is that I’m curious.
“That’s better,” he breathes against my lips, holding me to him. “Now I’m going to taste you.”
What?
His mouth moves over mine. Gently at first, as if waiting to see how I’ll react, if I’ll push him away or not.
Oh. He means kiss me.
Tentatively, I reach up and thread my fingers through his short, silky hair, smash my breasts against his chest, and tug him closer. That’s all it takes to snap his control.
