Page 57 of The Sin

And then he simply said, “Okay.”

Okay?I rubbed at my temple. What did that mean?

I breathed in, exhaled, and set my gaze on the dark night beyond the windshield. The headlights lit the road directly in front of us, but the sky was still overcast and there was no moon or starlight shining through. The woods on either side of us pressed with spooky shadows and everything—Parklands, Capra, the entire world—felt like it was closing in on me.

The only part of this world that wasn’t crushing me, the only person in my life who’d ever given me some semblance of the truth and who’d never demanded my blind obedience and compliance, was Roman.

That was my excuse when I threw myself at him the moment we walked through the cabin door. I was desperate to lose myself in anything other than the crap going on around us, and Roman was my port in this storm roiling through me.

Also, he was hot as sin and I had all this angry energy that would burst me wide open if I didn’t give it an outlet.

Also, I wanted him. It was that simple. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine. I wanted to run my hands all over his body. I wanted all of me to be pressed to all of him again. I wanted to ravage him and I wanted him to devour me.

I wanted him recklessly and mindlessly and with utter abandonment, and I was no longer afraid to admit it. Not to myself. And not to Roman.

I went up onto my toes and flung my arms around his neck, and pressed my mouth to his. At least, that was my intention. His arms came around me automatically, but his mouth swerved at the last second and my lips brushed his bristled jaw.

“Georga,” he said, his breath a husky whisper on my throat. “Not like this.”

“Like what?” I pushed my fingers through his silky hair and leaned away to look into his eyes. “I want you.”

A predatory noise rumbled up his throat.

And he wanted me just as badly. I could see the hungry desire darkening his gaze.

But he said, “You want to forget. You want to use sex as your punching bag. And while I’d usually be okay with that…” His mouth curled into a gorgeous, rueful grin. “That’s not how our first time is going down. I’ve waited too long.”

He was wrong.

And he wasn’t.

“I do want you,” I whispered. “Only you.”

“You have me.” He brought a hand up from my waist and brushed his knuckles along my cheekbone. All the while, his gaze sank into me, adored me. “You will always have me.”

I breathed out a huffy, frustrated groan. So far as rejections went, it wasn’t the worst. But he wasn’t kissing me senseless, either.

Roman chuckled softly and wrapped his arms tightly around me, tucking me against his chest. “You never did know how to take no for an answer.”

Once upon a time, a comment like that would have made me see red.

But tonight I was enfolded in his masculine strength and warmth and scent, with the promise that he would always be mine, and that sounded much more like a compliment than an insult.

When he released me, he dropped a kiss onto my forehead. “It’s been a long day. Try to get some sleep.”

I didn’t think I could. I was too wired. There was all this restless energy pumping inside me. As soon as my head hit the pillow, though, I was gone. I snuggled in and closed my eyes, prepared to drag my way through the long night, and the next thing I knew, my eyes were opening to weak rays of sunlight streaming around the edges of the drapes.

My night hadn’t been restless, either. No nightmares chasing my dreams. Not that I remembered. I did remember dreaming about Roman. I was sleeping on my side, spooned against his body, his arm around me. In my dream, I remember sliding him a sleepy smile and snuggling closer, and feeling so safe, so at peace.

I rolled over and saw the other side of the bedcovers tossed and rumpled. My breath caught in my throat, and released.

18

Agood night’s rest had done wonders for my frenetic disposition. My emotions still felt a little jittery, but my brain was no longer on fire. I may just be able to get through the day without exploding and blowing up my world. That didn’t stop my nerves tensing when a knock sounded at the door around mid-morning.

Roman wouldn’t knock and it wouldn’t be a friendly visit, since I was still under house arrest. That left Julian Edgar, probably with some version of the Spanish Inquisition about my odd behavior last night.

I considered pretending no one was home, but that wouldn’t work. House arrest. So I stiffened my spine and went to open the door.

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