Chapter Eleven

Tessa

That evening, I convince Roman to let me fix dinner. I already have a lasagna ready for the oven, along with a salad. The snow falls steadily, and I’ll bet even fewer restaurants are open tonight. He agrees but makes me sit at the table and give him instructions. I do as he asks. Sitting down gives me the chance to admire my ring. I can’t believe I’m wearing something like this.

I’m so surprised by the events of the afternoon, I feel a little dizzy. I wonder if the news clip will be on the ten o’clock news. And suddenly, I wonder if Chelsea will see me. Inside I panic a little. She doesn’t usually watch the news, but tonight is sort of special with the blizzard. There will be updates about road and business closures, so she’s bound to tune in at one point or another. I know she’ll recognize me even though I was dressed like an arctic explorer. I don’t know what I think about her finding out about me and Roman on the news.

We’ve always shared everything, up until now.

Roman and I eat and talk and talk some more. He tells me about his business. I tell him about culinary school, and how I always knew I wanted to be a chef. What don’t we talk about? Getting married or the future. We watch the ten o’clock news. There’s a small snippet of our interview and a close-up of the ring.

“We’re pretty bundled up,” I tease. “But anyone who recognizes you will know you’re off the market now.”

We’re sprawled on the couch, limbs entwined. He kisses me. Everything he does is gentle because he’s worried about my bruised ribs. When he pulls back from the kiss he cups my jaw and strokes my cheek.

“I’m off the market now?” he asks.

“I’m guessing.” Suddenly I feel a little unsure, wondering why he would ask me that, or phrase the question in that way. “Aren’t you?”

He shakes his head. His lips tilt upwards. “I’ve been off the market since the day you walked into my penthouse… our penthouse.”

And just like that, he makes my heart flip once more. I smile up at him. “How so?”

He kisses the length of my neck. His short beard scratches my skin. I never thought I’d love that so much. It’s erotic. My breasts ache. Heat gathers along my thighs. I’m wet. I have been since the moment he pulled me into his arms. Wicked arousal makes me take short, shallow breaths. I need a break while I still have rational thought.

I edge away, trying to regain control, but he tugs me back into his embrace.

“I walked in.” His tone is gruff, his touch sparking hot need through my body. “And I knew right away someone other than Margie had been in my home. But I knew I hadn’t been robbed. I went to my office, sat down and reviewed the footage of you sneaking into my home. I watched it every day. Over and over.”

My chest fills with warmth when he brushes a kiss across my lips.

“But you waited.” I smile. “For what?”

“My sister thought I’d scare you and made me promise not to confront you here.”

“Scare me? I don’t scare that easily.”

The instant the words leave my mouth, the television goes dark. A half-second after that, the lights go out and the penthouse plunges into darkness. Roman moves quickly, rising from the sofa and crossing the room to the windows. He’s visible in silhouette, against the dull glow of the city lights.

“We’ve lost electricity,” he says quietly. “A few of the other buildings are dark too.”

“Is it going to come back on?”

“The emergency generator will kick in.”

“When?”

“Within fifteen minutes. But nothing will run at one hundred percent capacity.”

I’m trying not to act childish or too easily freaked out, but it’s unnerving. My mouth feels dry, my throat tight.

“Nothing will run at one hundred percent capacity? What does that mean? Will the elevator run?”

I sound shrill. I know I do, but I can’t help it.

He comes back to the couch and stands over me. I hear him chuckle. “You don’t need to hit the panic button just because the lights went out, baby.”

“I like hitting the panic button,” I grumble. “When bad stuff happens I always panic before I can take a deep breath and you know… fix things.”

“Well, don’t do that.”

“I can’t help it. Good thing I’m a cook and not an air traffic controller.”

“Good thing.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. When he speaks again, his voice is deeper, rougher.

“It’s going to get cold tonight with the heat running at fifty percent.”

“Cold? For some reason that doesn’t sound like a code red emergency to me.”

He laughs and there’s an edge of wicked amusement there. “You can come sleep with me. I have a fireplace in my room. I know how to keep you warm.”

A few times over the course of the day, he’d mentioned how he needed to treat me with extra gentleness since I’m bruised. He implied that we would sleep apart and take our time with things. Something about his rough voice makes my mind conjure up wicked imaginings. It didn’t help that he’d just been kissing me senseless. I want to experience the very thing I’ve imagined a thousand times – what it’s like to fall asleep in Roman’s arms.

“All right,” I say softly. “I’d like that.”

Later, after I’ve taken a quick bath by candlelight, I tiptoe down the hall and knock on his door. He opens the door wordlessly, takes my hand and leads me to his bed. I feel shy and small standing beside him. Aside from the fire crackling in the hearth, the room is quiet.

“You’ll be warmer if we’re skin to skin,” he whispers.

My heart crashes against my ribs. He looks down at me, cupping my jaw, his face lit by firelight. He’s clad in a pair of sweat pants. Bands of powerful muscle line his chest and abs. I want to run my fingers in the grooves of his six-pack. I want to trace the expanse of his shoulders.

A scar runs across his ribcage. Another scar runs from his shoulder to his bicep. I draw a sharp breath.

“Roman, you’ve been hurt.”

He shrugs and runs his finger along my neckline. “It’s nothing. Come to bed.”

He’s asking me to take my nightgown off, I realize.

I’m in a bit of a daze. I bite my lip. What exactly should I say to that? I’ve never wanted this before. Not once. But suddenly all I want is his hands on me. Everything inside me hums with need and I know he could show me pleasure. I see the promise of that in his eyes.

“I want you, Tessa. Tonight and every night.”

“I want you too.”

He gathers my nightgown in his hand and lifts it over my head, tossing it aside. I’m wearing only a pair of boy shorts. His gaze drops to my breasts and further. “Look at my gorgeous fiancée.”

His hands cup my breasts and he sucks a breath between gritted teeth. Then he traces his fingers down my ribs, lightly brushing over the bruise. He leans over to look closer and his mouth twists. A fierce rumble vibrates across his chest. He straightens and the look in his eyes makes me give a nervous laugh, retreat a step, and then another.

He stalks across the bedroom. With every step he backs me closer to the bed, until I bump against the mattress. He looms over me, an undeniable masculine energy pouring off him.

“Sweet Tessa,” he mutters, brushing kisses across my temple. His fingers brush over the bruise on my side. “If he so much as looks at you, or talks to you, I’ll tear him apart.”

I’m sure that’s a euphemism, but still, the idea sort of scares me. Surely he wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“You’re mine to care for. Mine to protect.”

I want to tell him that I can take care of myself, but with his hungry kiss, he keeps me from saying a word. He traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, then strokes me indecently. With every lash of his tongue, I’m wetter.

Gripping my hips, he lifts me gently and easily to the bed.

He whispers. “So beautiful. So perfect.” It’s like he’s talking to himself. His expression is fevered as if he’s in the middle of some sort of dream.

When he lifts his gaze to mine, I see a burning intensity I never imagined. He kisses me again, this time pushing me back to the bed. With his arm around my shoulders, he cradles me as he eases me to the mattress. Once I’m lying down, he breaks the kiss.

“I want to taste you, sweet Tessa.”

I’m not sure what he means by that. He plants small, biting kisses along my neck and shoulder. He traces his tongue around my nipple and sucks the tip between his lips. I arch beneath him. He murmurs soft, tender words. As he lowers to my stomach, my breath ratchets up because I realize what he wants. My mind rebels, but my wicked body agrees with everything he wants.

I writhe with anticipation. Threading my fingers through his hair, I plead mindlessly. He chuckles softly, clasps my thighs and parts them. I lie beneath him, open and vulnerable. Distantly, I hear the wind howling and the crackle of flames, but my awareness centers on the touch of his fingertips and the brush of his lips.

“Please. Yes.”

I hear the words and slowly it dawns on me that the desperate words came from my own lips.

And then he does just what he promised. He drags his tongue along my wet core as he groans and shudders.

“Tessa…” His voice is granite.

Helpless beneath him, I have no choice but to submit. With his hands gripping my hips, he pins me down and holds me right where he wants me. Open to everything he wants to do to me.

Part of my mind rebels against what he’s doing, because it’s too wicked. Too far gone. Too much. And yet, I want to give in and relent. Slowly he drives me wild, mindless with need. I arch and buck and beg. He teases me, and I’m certain he’s waiting for my pleading words, because the moment I beg, he begins to take me apart, piece by piece. He drives me towards a devastating climax, knowing that if he takes me there he’ll own me.

Beneath him, I have no choice but to surrender. He teases me with his tongue, strokes me with his finger, and when he sucks my clit, I arch beneath him, tip over the edge and scream his name. I fall and fall. Desperate cries wrack my body as I shatter into a million pieces.

He trails kisses up my trembling body until he reaches my mouth. Crouched over me, caging me with his body, he kisses my lips tenderly. I can taste myself on his mouth. It’s erotic. Wicked. I shiver.

“Cold?”

“No.” I feel spent, weak as a kitten, barely able to manage a smile. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say. I’ve never done this, but I’d like to-”

He gives me an answering smile and shakes his head. “Not tonight. Not till you’re all healed.”

“That doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“I’m fine.” He grimaces as he says the words, but then laughs. “Really.”

With that, he settles into bed and tucks my body next to him. I lie beside him, my head on his shoulder. The storm batters the building. The blowing winds make the room feel especially cozy. I close my eyes, sinking into his embrace. The crackling flames fade from my mind as I drift into sleep.