Page 39 of Forbidden Daddy
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun. Roman didn’t respond, but I could see his hands fisting at his sides, the careful control that kept him from violence wearing thin.
Declan walked off without waiting for permission, leaving Roman standing alone in the empty room. From my hiding spot in the shadows, I watched him pour himself a drink with hands that weren’t quite steady, and I realized with growing horror that the war wasn’t just coming from outside.
It was already inside the walls.
And I was the weapon they planned to use against him.
15
CASSIE
The silence stretched between us as we made our way upstairs, heavy with everything unsaid. Roman’s confession about Declan still echoed in my mind, but it was the vulnerability I’d glimpsed in his eyes that made my chest ache. This man, who commanded empires and bent the world to his will, had looked lost for a moment. Betrayed. Human.
He paused at my bedroom door, his hand resting on the frame. The hallway felt charged with electricity, dangerous to cross.
"Cassie," he started, then stopped. His jaw worked like he was fighting some internal battle.
"Roman." I turned to face him fully, taking in the way his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, the careful way he held himself to protect his healing ribs. "You don’t have to carry everything alone."
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. "You don’t know what you’re saying."
"Yes, I do." I stepped closer, close enough to smell his cologne mixed with the lingering antiseptic from his bandages. "I’m saying I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere."
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb tracing along my jawline with devastating gentleness. "You should. Go somewhere. This world?—"
"Is my world now, too." I caught his wrist, holding his hand against my cheek. "We’re in this together, remember?"
For a moment, we just stood there in the dimly lit hallway, breathing the same air, existing in a bubble where betrayal and violence couldn’t reach us. Then, something in his eyes darkened with need, and I felt my pulse spike in response.
"Cassie," he whispered, my name a prayer on his lips.
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I rose on my toes and pressed my mouth to his, soft and questioning. He kissed me back with careful reverence, like I was something precious he was afraid of breaking.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I caught his hand and led him into my room.
The moonlight streaming through the windows painted everything in silver as we moved toward each other with careful deliberation. This wasn’t the desperate claiming from his office or the urgent need against his armory wall. This was something else, tender and aching, and shot through with an intimacy that terrified me.
Roman’s fingers found the zipper of my dress, sliding it down with reverent slowness. The silk pooled at my feet like water, and I shivered as his hands skimmed over my bare skin. Butwhen I reached for his shirt, my movements were equally gentle, mindful of his injuries, of the bandages wrapped around his ribs.
We undressed each other piece by piece, every revelation a question neither of us dared to voice. When his shirt finally hit the floor, I traced the edges of his bandages with my fingertips, pressing soft kisses to the unmarked skin around them.
"I could’ve lost you," I whispered against his chest, and felt him shudder.
His hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head back until our eyes met. "But you didn’t."
We moved to the bed, the energy between us was different, calmer somehow, but just as passionate and insistent. We weren’t in the throes of adrenaline and discovery this time. There was no distracting each other from the consequences of tonight’s events. We had nowhere to hide from what this could become.
Roman laid on his back, and I climbed on top of him, mindful of his injuries. The thick length of him pressed against the slick heat between my legs, making us both shiver. Then I was rolling my hips, guiding him inside me with delicious pressure that made his breath catch.
He cupped my face with one hand, blue eyes searching mine, but I slid up his length, building a rhythm that told him I needed more. This was happening. I wanted it. And I was tired of being afraid.
Fingers splayed across my cheeks, he guided me down and caught my lips in a kiss so thorough and dominating it spoke his words for him. This isn’t about ownership anymore, it said.You’re mine, and I’m yours. I’m tired of pretending this isn’t real.
Together we set a faster pace, skin to skin, hearts beating in tandem as pleasure flooded my body. The feel of him deep inside me, thick and solid, felt like a homecoming.
I rode him harder, feeling my orgasm building. The pleasure intensified in my body, wrapping around the emotional truth buried under the surface. My fingernails dug into his chest, heels digging into the mattress for purchase, as I rode him like my life depended on it.
And maybe it did.
