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His arm slides down from his face, and when I look at his eyes, they spark with a challenge. He sits up on the bed, his hand moving to his suit jacket. He takes it off and I’m treated to the sight of his broad shoulders, the way the shirt stretches over his muscled arms. His eyes are still fixed on me as he begins to unbutton. He starts at the top, taking his sweet time. The buttons come undone one by one until his chest is bare.
My mouth dries. Tattoos have always been my weakness. And unfortunately, Roman’s chest is covered in them. It’s not like I didn’t know he had them. My brother once told me that Roman has been getting a tattoo every year since his sixteenth birthday to commemorate the day. I’ve just never seen them. The stifling suits he wears hide what’s underneath.
Roman has always been dangerous. Now he’s dangerous and sexy. It’s annoying. My hand itches to reach forward and touch them. Thankfully, I’m not that weak.
My eyes flit over the tattoos. He has one of Maria’s name, and Rosalia’s too. There are wings on one side of his chest and then there are other things I don’t understand. Drawings, phrases in another language. Instead of asking him, I grit my teeth and look away.
“I’m leaving now. Good night, Roman,” I tell him.
Faster than I can blink, he reaches out and his hand closes around my wrist. I gasp when he pulls me down onto the bed.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” I ask in surprise, pushing at his chest.
“Don’t go,” he commands.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he says, taking a deep breath. For a minute, I think he’s going to say something sincere, but of course, he doesn’t. “I said so.”
I arch an eyebrow, giving him an unimpressed look. “Because you said so?” I repeat with a scoff. “What are you, four? Let me go.”
I try to wrestle my hand from his grip, but my efforts are useless.
“Roman, let me go!” I yell.
“Just stay still for a while,” he says softly.
I pause in my attempt to escape him. There’s heat simmering in his eyes. He burns hot and cold so fast. Like I said, psychopath.
He’s close enough that I can smell the faint, delicious scent of his cologne. I swallow, nerves building up inside of me.
“Roman I—”
Whatever it is I wanted to say is cut off when he places his arm on my neck. The pressure is light, teasing. Like a puppet, I’m drawn closer to him.
“Elena,” he says softly, dark blue eyes fixed on mine.
“Yes?” My voice comes out raspy and wrong.
“I can see that look in your eyes. How badly do you want me to fuck you right now?”
And just like that, the moment shatters. My cheeks flame as I shove at his chest. He lets go of my hand with a chuckle and I immediately stand up.
“I would never fuck you,” I hiss.
The annoying part is that for a second, I actually imagined what it would feel like to be with him. It wouldn’t be the first time I had such thoughts about him. Twelve-year-old me was infatuated with Roman. But that was a stupid schoolgirl crush. I know who he really is now.
And who he is, is a freaking gorgeous man I’m trying really hard not to fall for right now… damn it.
“That sounds like another challenge,lupacchiotta,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
I keep my eyes on his face instead of letting them trail down to his muscled, tattooed chest. At least he looks like he’s in much better spirits. A win is a win. Mission accomplished. He’s back to being an ass.
“You know how much I don’t like to lose,” he drawls.
I lean forward, making sure he’s staring straight into my eyes.
“When it comes to me, Roman,” I pause for dramatic effect, “trust me, you’ll lose every time.”
