Page 50 of Split

This isn’t real. Go back to sleep, Eliza.

The shadow moves. Draws closer. The floorboards creak as it continues its advance, then a sliver of moonlight shining in through a gap in the curtains illuminates the sharp lines of Roman’s face.

It’s not the shadow.

It’s my husband.

Both seem intent on haunting me.

I press a palm against my pounding heart, all the air whooshing from my lungs in a relieved sigh. Ordinarily, his presence is anything but comforting, but between the specter that haunts my room at night and the unknown danger that warranted the manor going on lockdown, Roman is the lesser evil right now.

Better the devil you know than the one you don’t.

Vesper wags his stubby little tail in recognition, but Nox still has his hackles raised, growling as Roman makes his way closer.

“Idti,” he murmurs with a snap of his fingers, commanding the dogs to leave in Russian. They instantly comply with his directive, jumping down from the bed and trotting toward the door.

Worst guard dogs ever.

“What are you doing here?” I gasp as he closes the door behind them, sealing the two of us alone inside my bedroom.

He begins prowling toward me again with a sinister gleam in his eye that alerts me to the presence of Mr. Hyde. “I was able to return sooner than expected.”

“No,” I huff, punching my fists against the mattress and pushing myself upright. “What are you doinghere, in my room?”

“Fucking my wife, in a minute,” he replies bluntly as he approaches the side of the bed and begins unbuttoning his dress shirt.

I open my mouth to protest, but it’s just left hanging agape as Roman undoes the final buttons and shrugs off his shirt, giving me an eyeful of all that mouthwatering, hard-earned muscle beneath. My mind blanks out, a traitorous throb starting up between my thighs as he drops his hands to his belt and unfastens the buckle.

On second thought, Icoulddo with some stress relief…

“Take your clothes off, pet,” Roman growls as he drops his slacks to the floor.

I don’t move a muscle, still captivated by the strip show playing out before my eyes.

He pauses as he tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, cocking a dark brow at me. “Or would you prefer I rip them off?”

I huff out an annoyed breath, my eyes pinging up to glare into his defiantly. My first instinct is always to push back against him. Each time, I have to remind myself that my complianceis only a means to an end. I’m not giving into his whims, I’m playing a role, and I’m playing it well.

Maybetoowell. It’s getting harder to keep track of what’s real and what isn’t, but I suppose it doesn’t matter much right now. In this moment, I can’t focus on anything but the searing heat coursing through my veins.

Roman hasn’t fucked me in days. I need it, and it’d be a pointless exercise in masochism to resist him.

Averting my gaze in shame, I bury myself further beneath the covers, slipping off my little silk pajama set before rolling onto my side and putting my back to him. My heart pounds with anticipation as he throws back the comforter, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he climbs into bed and settles beside me.

“You shouldn’t sneak around in the dark like that,” I grumble as he bands an arm around my waist and yanks my body backwards into his. The soft curves of my bare flesh meet his hard lines, the warmth of his chest bleeding into my back. “You scared me.”

“Then I’ll bet you’re dripping,” he murmurs, scraping his teeth against my shoulder as he reaches down to rub his velvety tip through my slick folds.

He’s not wrong.

“Roman,” I protest, even as I shift my hips to give him better access.

He brings his other hand up to collar my throat, cutting off my air as he aligns with my entrance and thrusts into me from behind. My back arches, lungs seizing for breath as he stretches and fills me, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

“Fuck, I’ve missed your tight cunt,” he snarls as he pushes in deeper, burying himself to the hilt.

I claw at the hand suffocating my throat, black spots dotting the edges of my vision. He lingers there for a moment, my innerwalls straining around his girth and my lungs screaming for oxygen. Then his grip around my neck slowly slackens, allowing me to draw a much-needed breath as he begins moving inside me, owning my body with every harsh snap of his hips.

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