Page 133 of Lethal Alliance

“I know.” My lips graze his collarbone, and I inhale the delicious woodsy scent of him hungrily. “I’ve always known that, Roman. I’m not afraid of what might come at us.” I look up to find him staring at me, his eyes slightly narrowed. “I’m just afraid of losingyou,” I whisper.

“I know.” For once, he doesn’t attempt to argue with me. Instead he cradles my face in his good hand, his eyes holding my own. “I’ve been afraid of that too. I didn’t realize how afraid I was until I was running away from Ofelia and Masha, toward a pack of men with guns.”

I tremble, my stomach lurching with the thought, but I don’t flinch away from him. I can tell he needs to say this.

“I’ve lived most of my life alone.” His voice is gravelly with exhaustion and emotion. “I thought that was just the way it would always be. I never expected to live very long, and I’ve always assumed the end would be violent. It always seemed... irresponsible to allow anyone to depend on me. All I ever hoped for was that I’d build a legacy strong enough to look after Mikhail’s children after my own death, which I figured would come soon enough.

“But then in Miami, when I left Masha and Ofelia under that banyan tree and ran toward the men coming at us, I realized I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want our children growing up like I did. Or like you had to.”

He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering there for a long moment before he goes on.

“You’ve had to be so strong. All those years you had to run, never feeling safe. Suddenly I realized that by racing toward those bullets, I wasn’t being brave or strong. Sacrificing myself was only going to condemn you to the same darkness we’ve already had to live through. And worse.” His hand slides to rest on the swell of my belly. “I’d be condemning our child to that same life,” he says roughly. “All of our children. And I couldn’t do it, Darya. I won’t do it.”

I cover his hand with my own, feeling the safety of his broad palm covering me. “I’m glad.”

“I used to think it was a weakness.” He touches his lips to my face between sentences. “That if I had a family, it would make me fear the bullets. But it doesn’t. The fear makes me stronger. It makes me smarter. More determined to survive, to build an empire that can hold us all, keep us safe. Our world might always be one of violence, but I’m not afraid of having a family anymore, Darya. I want it. I want it all. I want it with you. And I want to make sure nobody can ever take it from us.”

He pulls back from me and cradles my face in his hand. “I know I should have done this properly, with the right ring, and not around a hospital bed with our children watching.” He gives me a slightly crooked grin, and my heart skips a beat. “I’d get down on one knee, but neither one is working too well right now. I just want to make sure you know that I’m in. I’m all in. Now and always. So I have to formally ask you: Darya Petrovsky, will you marry me?”

My world slows down to the blood pumping through my body, the sensual seduction of his skin next to mine, the mindless abandon I feel when I drown in his dark eyes.

The safety I feel when his arms are around me.

The incomparable thrill of his body inside my own.

And the overwhelming rightness I feel nowhere but when I am with him.

“Yes, I will marry you, Roman Borovsky.” I put my hands on his face and draw it down to my own, my body needing his like a flower reaching for rain. “I will stand beside you forever, and help you build everything you dream of. And I will love you, with my whole heart, until the day I die.”

“You’re all in,” he says huskily, his good arm slipping around my waist and pulling me hard against him.

“I was all in from the moment you ordered your first coffee,” I whisper, feeling the delicious thrill start to uncurl in my belly.

“Is that right?” Roman chuckles, his lips drawing a trail of fire up my neck toward my mouth. “You mean that instead of trading insults with you, I could have just done this?” His mouth lands on mine, and I open beneath it with a small cry, my body already liquid heat in his embrace. His kiss is hungry and thorough, his tongue taking my mouth with a subtle power and intensity that leaves me shaking and panting, pressed hard against his naked chest. He is hot and restless under my touch, his skin like fire, his good hand roaming over the thin knit dress covering my ass in a way that makes me want to climb him like a fucking tree.

He slides the hem of my dress higher. Then he hits the bare skin at the top of my stocking, and his hand comes to a sudden halt while his mind assimilates what he’s feeling.

Then his palm splays over my thigh, his thumb tracing the frilled line of my garters slowly upward.

“I like these,” he murmurs in my ear. He raises my knee so my booted heel rests on a nearby chair. His thumb strokes the bared upper skin of my thigh, tantalizingly close to where I really need it. “Maybe we should spend more time in cold climates.”

Then his hand roams even higher, and I gasp as his thumb presses my swollen clit through the silk.

“You know, I planned to fuck you hard and fast.” Roman’s thumb makes tiny movements that have me gasping, aware of every slight change in pressure. “I pictured you naked the entire flight over here, and every moment since. I thought I needed you too badly to wait. I wanted to just get my cock inside you.”

Oh, God.

My hips jerk toward him, my knee opening wider, aching for more than just his thumb. I want my underwear off. I want his mouth, his cock. I want him against me.

“But now that I have you here,” he goes on, swiping a slick of moisture from my inner thigh, “I don’t want to rush a single moment.” Suddenly his hands are gone. My eyes fly open to find him staring at me, his arousal blatant beneath his suit pants. My dress is hitched up to my waist, so I’m standing with one high-heeled boot up on a chair, exposing my soaked underwear over my garter and stockings.

“Lose the dress,” he says roughly.

My skin on fire, trembling as if it were my first time, I pull the dress over my head, revealing the black silk-and-lace bra that matches the rest of my lingerie.

“You know,” he says in a low voice, “this reminds me a lot of the first time I ever fucked you. Do you remember that night, Miss Petrovsky?”

Heat rushes between my legs. “I remember,” I say breathlessly.

---