Page 60 of The Sin

“You didn’t make it worse,” I assured him.

He shrugged. “Either way, you needed someone to talk to.”

“After my spectacular meltdown at Julian’s last night, you weren’t worried about what I’d say?”

Roman had placed the glasses on the oak table and was in the process of pouring when he paused to look at me. “I don’t own your mind and mouth, Georga. I trust you to know what you’re doing.”

That might just be the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me.

The marrow literally swooped out from behind my knees.

He finished pouring and brought our drinks over to where I was leaning with a hip against the counter.

I took the glass he offered, but set it down on the counter. “I did tell her about The Smoke, and Jenna, but I didn’t say anything that could incriminate you. She’d never cause trouble for me, or anyone I care about, but still…”

“I just want you to be okay, whatever that takes.”

“I am okay.” I placed a hand on his arm, and I almost left it at that, but I needed him to hear this, too. “Nothing will ever be the same for me, though, and I can’t wind back time and pretend it is. I won’t.”

He sipped on his bourbon, studying me in a contemplative manner, and I wondered if he regretted his generous trust in me.

Then he threw back the full measure of bourbon in his glass, swallowed, and said, “Maybe it’s time some things changed.”

I arched a skeptical brow at him. Sure, as if he’d ever really mean that.

But he set his empty glass down and cocked his jaw, and hooked his gaze into mine, and I knew how very wrong I was. Roman never spoke carelessly. He’d never say something just because he thought it’s what I wanted to hear.

My heart thundered with complex emotions that I couldn’t begin to unravel. So a smile twisted my lips instead. “I think I broke you.”

Roman brushed the back of his fingers along my cheekbone, his gaze sinking deeper and deeper into me. “We’re all a little broken.”

The air grew thicker, warmer, and I swayed toward him, unable to resist his magnetic pull.

I forgot about the salad I was supposed to be tossing. I forgot about everything outside the two of us as Roman took my hands in his. He stepped closer, one slow step, then another, sliding my hands to his hips as he stepped into me.

My hands snaked a little further around him as I tilted my mouth up to him. Static desire charged the breaths between us. His dark hair fell unevenly, grazing near the hollow of his shaded, bristled jaw. He was sculpted in furious beauty, dark and dangerous and devastatingly mine.

He trailed his knuckles along the curve of my jaw, his eyes heavy-lidded, glinting and heated like molten silver. And he took the words right from my mouth when he said huskily, “You are so damn beautiful.”

My heart picked up an extra beat and my fingers dug into him as I went up onto my toes.

His mouth swept down with urgency, capturing mine with a deep, unyielding kiss that streamlined straight to my blood. He tasted like bourbon and sin, and I decided then and there it was my favorite combination.

His arms went around me and his hands slipped inside the hem of my shirt, both caressing and pulling me closer. His touch was velvet iron, sending hot shivers to my bones, and I couldn’t get enough.

Roman had the same thought, ravaging my mouth with deep, hungry kisses as he walked me backward, passed the oak table and through to the bedroom. When he released me, I instantly, achingly missed his touch. But then he was shrugging out of his shirt, lean muscle rippling, and that ache turned to burning pleasure.

I tugged my top up, over my head, my breaths coming so fast, it felt like they were tripping over each other, and then our bodies were plastered together, hot skin to skin. His fingers speared through my hair and my fists tangled in his silky, raven lengths as he claimed my mouth and senses. His kiss slanted along my jaw, and more hot shivers skittered across my skin as he trailed butterfly kisses to that sensitive spot beneath my earlobe.

A breathless groan fluttered from my lips.

He growled, an intense, almost savage growl that hollowed out my knees as his mouth crushed mine again. His hands slid down to my hips, rocking me against him, and my entire body caught alight.

I was overheated and aching with want long before he gently lowered me backward over the bed, his body covering mine. I arched, stealing kisses on his throat, his jaw, my tongue licking along his collarbone.

He cursed low in his throat, an almost savage curse of pain and pleasure that sent flames of pure desire shooting through me.

My fingers curled into the quilt. “Roman.”

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