Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
I ease her back down to the bed, kissing her forehead when she whimpers a wordless protest.
"I'll be right back," I promise her, and then climb from the bed, groaning. My body is stiff and sore, every muscle protesting as I stroll toward the bathroom. I took her hard, and I feel it. Not that it matters. She's my priority. I need to take care of her, or she'll be the one really feeling it in the morning.
"Damn," I mutter when I step into the bathroom to start the tub and catch sight of myself in the mirror. Her claw marks are all over my shoulders and arms, some scratches so deep they drew blood. I shake my head and smile to myself at the sight of them.
She's a hellcat, as rough and wild as I am. She takes as good as she gets every single time. I should have fucking known better than to doubt that.
Once I get the tub going, I step back into the bedroom. She still hasn't moved from where I left her. Her eyes are closed, her body still sprawled across the top of my bed like a wanton sacrifice. Her legs are parted, her pussy peeking from between those thick thighs.
The sight has my cock stirring, ready for another round.
She's too gorgeous for her own good.
I pick her up and tuck her against my chest, ignoring my growing erection.
"Roman." She curls into me with a soft, contented sigh.
"Come on, baby. Let's clean you up," I murmur, pressing another kiss to her sweaty forehead.
She sighs again when I step into the bathtub and lower us down into the hot water, keeping her on my lap. I groan softly, the water loosening the tight, aching muscles all over my body. She sighs, too, her body sprawled across mine haphazardly.
I brush the hair back from her face and kiss her forehead. Her lips curve upward in a sweet little smile, and she hums in the back of her throat.
"You okay, baby?" I ask quietly, running my hands up and down her sides. I love the way her skin feels against mine. She's so fucking soft everywhere. Her flesh pebbles beneath my fingers, making me smile.
"Mmhmm," she hums.
I chuckle softly and kiss her forehead again before relaxing.
We sit in silence for several long moments. Mila isn't a particularly loud or talkative person. She's more than content to just let me quietly hold her. But I avoided talking to her for a long time, trying to avoid getting in any deeper with her. I listened to every fucking word she ever said, but I rarely gave her any back. Since the day she called me out on not ever talking to her, I've been trying to change that.
But she was right tonight. I have been shutting her out. Since she got here, I've been keeping shit to myself, trying to deal with it on my own. She's been so fucking sad over Tahani, I didn't want to add to that burden. My need to protect her is overwhelming, an intrinsic part of me. She's a warrior, though. I need to remember that, and so does she.
"I wasn't mad at you tonight, Mila," I tell her. "I was pissed at myself. You've been so fucking sad since all that shit with Tahani went down, and you looked beautiful tonight. I wanted to make you smile. I'm fucking proud of you, and I wanted you to have a good time celebrating your success."
"I was having a good time," she mumbles. Her voice is still thick and lazy, like it's hard for her to form words. She's more alert in my arms, though, listening intently.
"Seeing everyone staring at you fucked me up a little," I admit.
"Why?"
"I'm possessive as hell when it comes to you. You're mine. The thought of anyone else touching you makes me want to kill someone."
"I feel the same way about you," she whispers, heat creeping into her voice.
I kiss her forehead again, letting her words twist through me. She has no fucking idea how much she owns me. There is no one else for me. I would kill for her, no questions asked.
"It was more than that, though," she says, playing with my fingers. "You were really mad."
"I don't do well with crowds, baby. It's hard to watch your back when you're crammed into a small area with hundreds of people, any one of whom could slip a knife between your ribs before you blink." I learned early on in my career to watch my back and to always be prepared. When you deal with gangbangers and cartels, with people who have no problem stabbing you in the back and then slinking away in the shadows, you learn to avoid crowds. It keeps you alive.
"With everything going on," I say, "I don't know what to expect. I don't know what's coming. I don't want you to be a target, and I'm fucking terrified someone will see you with me. That they'll come after you to get to me."