CHAPTER EIGHT
Everly
Tonight will end up being the biggest mistake of my life, or the best thing I’ve ever done. I sink deeper into the water, letting the bubbles cover my chest. I know I have the biggest, silliest, dreamiest expression on my face.
Turning the faucet off with my toes, I sigh.
I can’t believe what we did, much less what I shared. Groaning, I let my head fall into my hands. Of course, I just had to mention Jared.
Way to project confidence, Everly.
My best friend, Elle, is always after me to be more confident. She’s the one who kept pushing me not to give up on Roman. To go after him, even when he kept throwing roadblocks up. Looking back, I think the only reason I forgave him and tried again is that he would give me glimpses of the real him. A man so considerate and thoughtful that my toes curl just remembering the day I walked in and he’d ever so gruffly pointed out the chair I could sit in.
“A lady shouldn’t have to stand for hours on end.” Then he strode away, saying nothing more, not even when I waved good-bye an hour later.
He had merely nodded before turning his attention back to a book, studying the contents with a ferocious scowl.
Then that one day, when I’d forgotten my coat and found him on the floor, bleeding and helpless…I knew right then, I’d fallen for him. I had it bad and still do.
As he lay bleeding in my lap while ordering me to check the bullet wounds for an exit hole, I wanted to cry and scream at the unfairness of it all. The thought of Roman dying, of never seeing him again, or hearing his sexy-as-hell accent, made me desperate. It made me lie in order to be able to stay with him in the hospital. Abandoning him wasn’t an option.
As for tonight…nothing could have prepared me for what happened. For the way he stroked my body, the way he touched, licked, kissed, and took control. I was helpless in his arms, a willing slave to his tongue and fingers.
And apparently, I’m a jealous witch who jumps to conclusions when I have no right. Roman does have a business to run, and though I can’t imagine rare booksellers get many emergency calls, obviously it does happen.
But…I wanted him inside of me. I still do.
I hear the heavy thud of footsteps, and my body begins to tingle in anticipation. He’s coming, and hopefully he will make me come again.
Oh God. Please don’t let me say that out loud. I already say the dumbest things around him as it is.
The footsteps grow closer, and then fade. Lifting my head, I lean against the back of the tub and frown. What in the world is he doing out there?
Roman appears out of thin air, and I stifle a scream. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, the t-shirt fitting him perfectly, while cargo pants showcase his powerful thighs.
My eyes widen. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, but my grandfather is very ill. My uncle called a few minutes ago, right after Victoria.”
My stomach flips, then sinks to my toes as disappointment and sympathy rise to take its place. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get my robe and walk you to the door to say good night.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Something sharp scrapes at my heart. Had he only gone out with me so that I would stop asking? Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, but I hold them at bay. I will not cry. I won’t. Every romantic word he’s ever said to me has all but disappeared from my memory.
I adore you.
Yeah, but not enough to stay.
“Well, thanks for tonight,” I mumble, though I really want to cuss him out for making up a story about his grandfather, of all people.
Roman sighs, pushing a hand through his short, dark hair. His glittering blue eyes take me in, and I want to hide. There’s something very disconcerting about a man, who is so incredibly gorgeous and sexy that he could have anyone, staring you down. I almost want to check my teeth for food.
“Everly,” he begins, and I really want to cry now. He so rarely says my name, and now he’s leaving. More likely than not, I’ll never see him again, because there’s no way I’ll ever go back to his shop.
That asshole. That beautiful, sexy asshole who made me come so hard that I saw stars and screamed his name like it was the second coming. Actually, for me it was the first coming, since Jared sucked as a lover.
Oh God, I’m totally going to hell for being blasphemous.
“I want you to come with me.”
“Huh?”
“I know this might be a bit out of the ordinary, but my uncle said Grandfather wanted to meet the woman who saved his grandson’s life before the sickness took him. It’s his last request,” Roman says. He looks away, obviously overcome with emotion. “Please, Everly. It would mean a lot, but if you don’t want to, or can’t because you don’t have a passport, then I understand.”
He’s not lying. Holy crap, he’s not lying. Then again, has Roman ever lied to me? He’s been blunt, sometimes hurtful, but more often than not, he’s been thoughtful, kind, and sweet. Yes, sweet. What other kind of man would take in a stray cat?
“I have a passport.”
He jerks his head around, blue eyes blazing. “Does this mean you’ll come with me?”
“I’d be honored to come with you.” If this is a dream, then please don’t wake me up. This sexy, sophisticated man is going to take me to… I wrinkle my nose. “Where are we going?”
He places a bag on the counter. It’s the one he brought with him earlier. “Russia.”
“Are you joking?” A nervous laugh bubbles up. What am I thinking? This is crazy. I’m crazy. Roman could be a serial killer for all I know. “I don’t think—”
“There is also a charity event I’ve been asked to attend. It’s very well known. Tons of press and celebrities,” he adds, as if reading my thoughts.
Because serial killers bring their next victims as their dates to very public and apparently famous events. Geez, Everly, get it together. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Go. For. It.
I stand up, excited and nervous as anything. “Oh my gosh! I have so much to pack.” I grab the nearest towel and bend over to let the water out of the tub.
Roman mutters a curse, and I turn to see him staring at me with more than a little interest. Lust is obvious in his gaze, and it makes me feel so womanly and sexy that I allow myself to put on a little show for him by slowly standing.
Suddenly, he crosses the small distance between us and hauls me out of the tub, careful not to drop me. “As sexy as you look right now, we really need to get you packed.”
“Right this second? But I have to buy tickets and—”
“I don’t think you understand the urgency,” he says roughly, his big hands on my arms as he sets me on my feet.
I feel so dainty next to him. At the hospital, I’d sneaked a peek at his stats: twenty-seven years old, six foot two, and two hundred pounds of lean, lickable muscles. Okay, so I added on that last part, but it’s clear he works out. A lot.
I shiver, but not in fear. I want his hands all over me again. I want him.
“Stop looking at me with so much hunger in your eyes. We have to leave.”
A strange feeling washes over me. Something doesn’t seem quite right. Roman is too…anxious and insistent. Then again, his grandfather is sick, possibly dying. That would make anyone act a little off.
“Let me call my parents to let them know where I’m going.” I dash into my room, pulling out my suitcase, and then start to get dressed. I throw on a pair of comfy jeans and a thick sweater after shimmying into my bra and panties. Then I grab a pair of thick socks and my favorite boots. “What’s the weather like? Duh, it has to be cold; it’s Russia, Everly,” I remind myself.
Roman frowned. “Forget packing. You can call your parents on the way.”
I freeze in the middle of pulling on my boots. “Forget packing?”
“Yes, get your passport, your purse, and anything else you can’t live without. The rest I’ll purchase for you in Russia.”
I stare at him, like he’s suddenly turned into someone I don’t know. Actually, I don’t know him. Not really.
His expression softens, and he holds out his hand. “Trust me, love. I’ll take very good care of you. Come with me.”
My body thaws by slow degrees, and I finally finish pulling on my last boot. I look at his hand, still uncertain.
Then I take it.