Page 74 of Shadows of Obsession

"Never, Luna. He'll never hurt you again. Never," he swears, and I feel the promise in his voice, but I know you can't guarantee such things.

I feel his anger. I feel his frustration. And in this moment, I just want to make him relax.

I inhale and exhale once. Maybe one day Aidan will find me. Maybe one day I won't manage to hide from him anymore, but today isn't that day, so I don’t want to spend it sinking deeper into all these worries.

I rise on my tiptoes toward his mouth. His lips part slightly, and it's all the signal I need to kiss him.

I feel a ball of warmth forming in my belly, and then a shiver of pleasure runs through my entire body.

If this is what a kiss does to my body, I don't know what this man could draw out of me if we take things further.

His hands position themselves low on my back and pull me toward him. I feel his erection, and I'm lucky my mouth is being totally devoured by his, otherwise I don't know what sound would have come out of me. His touch leaves tingles in its wake because he's so delicate with me, as if he's afraid I'll break if he touches me harder.

Except, in this moment, I want more. I want him to break me so my thoughts don’t keep spiraling.

His mouth moves to my neck, alternating between kisses and little nips.

I push his jacket down and his gaze darkens. I see all the desire I feel for this man mirrored in his eyes. I'm tired of being afraid, of not taking what I want. This man who could have any woman in the world, this man who smells like oranges and a forest on a rainy morning. This man who fixes all my broken pieces with his touch.

I reach for his top button and undo it. And then the second.

"Are you sure?"

His voice is slightly choked, and through his heated gaze, I know he's near the limit of his control.

"You have no idea," I whisper while continuing to work on his shirt.

It's not the first time I've seen his abs, but I don't think I'll ever get used to this work of art. He isn’t overly muscled, but it's the perfect combination of regular gym workouts and good genetics. He has several tattoos across his chest, one of them extending slightly to his neck, which I trace with my fingertips.

His hands tense on me.

"Am I tickling you?" I ask in an amused tone.

"Not where you think," he answers with an arrogant smile.

I feel exactly where I'm affecting him, and my entire face is on fire. I'm not usually the one who takes the initiative when it comes to sex, but with him I want to do this, to be the one who takes the first step, because I know that’s all he needs. For me to initiate this.

He has a tattoo on his chest that looks like a pendulum, under which something is written in Russian.

"What does it say here?" I ask, and think I should learn at least a few words of his native language.

His eyes soften at the edges, gray irises melting as they meet mine.

"Bratva is honor. Bratva is for life."

There's a certain emotion in his voice, and I've noticed that usually his tone is formal and neutral. Rarely do I detect any inflection in it indicating he has feelings about a subject. The only people I see him use a more affectionate tone with are Victoria, Anuska, and me. Even Niko usually receives an authoritative tone. I don't know why, but I lean down and kiss his tattoo.

Rationally I know I hate the organization he's part of, but Roman is the head of the Russian mafia in Chicago. He is the man he is now because he's been part of this organization for so many years.

I know that if he hadn't had the Russian mafia in his life, he wouldn't be who he is. He wouldn't be the man who knows each of my perfumes and who always seems fascinated when he senses me wearing a new one. The man who rubbed my back while I was having a panic attack. The man I’m fairly certain I’m falling for.

The rhythm of his breath fractures, hot and uneven against my skin, as recognition dawns in the space between heartbeats.

It's my way of telling him I accept him fully.

His hands move to the back of my dress and pull the zipper down. The material pools lightly at my feet. Because of the daring neckline, I hadn't worn a bra.

His gaze locks on my breasts, and he runs his tongue over his lips as if he could already taste them. His predator eyes follow me as I step out of my dress and stand before him.

---