Claiming What's Mine Read online

  Observing him is enough to dampen my panties.

  If I were wearing any panties, that is.

  The ache between my legs flares back to life.

  His head snaps around, his hot gaze meeting mine as I open the door and step inside. The same kind of hunger that gnaws at my insides darkens his eyes. I slip my arms around him, loving the feel of his naked backside against my belly and breasts. My fingers glide over his ridged abdominals and descend to his erection. I wrap one hand around his thick girth and massage his balls with the other.

  He tormented me with his touch last night. I want to return the favor this morning by making him crave me with the mindless intensity that has plagued me for years.

  Using my teeth, I nip at his shoulder and leisurely stroke his cock.

  He emits an animalistic growl. “If you’re looking to get fucked, princess, just keep that up. I’ll have you pressed against the wall of this shower in a matter of seconds.”

  My core bursts into flames in response to his threat. I squeeze his balls, and he groans, his head tipping back until I’m able to stand on tiptoe and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

  “That feels so damn good.”

  I capture his upper lip with my teeth, tugging at it. Sparks of arousal flash in his eyes.

  With my body brushing against his, I slide around until my breasts press against his chest and his cock digs into the soft flesh of my belly. He watches me through narrowed eyes full of interest as I sink to my knees.

  Roman has a beautiful cock. It’s long and thick and feels like steel sheathed in velvet.

  I lean forward and kiss the slit, tasting saltiness where beaded moisture has gathered. I keep my gaze fastened to Roman’s as his fingers thread through my wet hair.

  I lick from the base of his shaft to the top of his mushroom-shaped head and settle my lips over the crown. I suck him down as far as possible and slide back to the tip, where I flatten my tongue over the most sensitive bit of flesh, rubbing continuously.

  Roman groans. His hips flex as his fingers sink into my scalp, holding me firmly in place.

  There’s something incredibly erotic about the way we stare at each other as I suck him into the warm haven of my mouth.

  All of the muscles in his body tighten. He clenches his teeth, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Another groan rumbles up from his chest.

  I focus my attention on giving him pleasure with the same determination he gave me last night. I want his release. I want to shred the last vestiges of his control. I want him to fall apart at my hands.

  “Oh God, baby, that feels amazing. Your mouth,” he says hoarsely, “is like fucking nirvana.”

  I feel the same way about his cock. I love the idea of giving him pleasure with not only my pussy but my mouth as well.

  My hands slide around to cup his ass. I squeeze the toned flesh and drag him closer.

  He releases my hair and tries to pull me up. “I need your pussy, princess.”

  I want that as well.

  But…

  I want this more.

  “No.” I suck him back into my mouth and shift a hand to the front to play with his balls, rolling them between my fingers until they tighten and draw up against his body.

  He mutters an oath, the tendons in his neck stretching as his head kicks back.

  I focus on him, noting every nuance of pleasure as it crosses his face. Hot water continues to cascade over us.

  His body stiffens, and then Roman orgasms, shouting my name like a benediction. His brows draw together as his hips buck into me.

  I swallow his warm seed as it streams into my mouth, sucking until there’s nothing left and he’s softened.

  Releasing his cock, I kiss the soft tip and nuzzle the silken head. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed giving a man a blow job more.

  “Fuck, baby.” Roman hauls me off my knees and into his arms.

  I smile as he takes fierce possession of my mouth, thrusting his tongue deep, and presses me against the shower wall as the two of us meld into one.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Roman and I lay entwined on the couch in my living room watching TV. Some sort of action movie is on. I have no idea what the name of it is. Or if there’s a plot. Every so often, there’s an explosion, gunfire, and a car chase.

  Having Roman stretched out beneath me is pure bliss.

  I could stay like this forever.

  That dangerous thought continues to rattle around in my brain. As much as I push it aside, it stubbornly returns to the forefront of my mind and grows stronger with each passing day.

  Once the movie ends, Roman shifts under me. I’m so comfortable that I don’t want to budge. I want to find a way to stop time. Or at least slow it down. This is the most content I’ve ever felt in my life. The thought of this inner peace disappearing as quickly as it came about is painful. I don’t think I could bear for our relationship to go back to the way it was. Not after being so intimate with him. And not after opening up and giving him every little piece of myself.

  I keep hoping that he’ll change his mind about our temporary arrangement. But I have no idea if that’s even a possibility. He refuses to say a word about us.

  I don’t know what the future will bring, and it’s driving me insane. I agreed to accept whatever he was willing to give, but it’s a bigger challenge than I anticipated.

  “Ready for bed?” he asks, skimming a palm from my knee to my hip.

  What a ridiculous question.

  I’m always ready for bed as far as this man is concerned. No matter how many times we make love, it’s never enough. I’m insatiable. I realize that it’s partly because what I’ve found with Roman feels precarious and could end at any moment.

  I untangle my limbs from his as that thought spins around my head. Before I can stop myself, I blurt, “Why does this have to end?”

  That question is like an explosion rocking both our worlds.

  His eyes cloud over.

  I’ve tried so hard not to bring it up. I’ve tried to let this be a meaningless fling and not push for answers, but it’s not in my nature to go along with something I don’t understand.

  Separating himself from me, he sits on the edge of the cushion and runs a hand over his head. “It’s complicated, Sofia.” He glances at me with an irritated expression. “Can’t you just leave it at that?”

  I want to laugh at the absurdity of his request. Now that he’s within reach, I can’t bring myself to think about the possibility of losing him.

  He hasn’t admitted that he has feelings for me, but he shows me in a hundred different ways.

  I feel them in the reverent way he touches me and the tender way he makes love to me. And I see them in his eyes whenever our gazes meet.

  The fact that he’d rather walk away instead of fighting for a future together makes me angry.

  “No, I can’t. Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” I reach over and snag his fingers with my own. “Whatever the issue is, we can find a solution.”

  Jerking away, he jumps to his feet and paces back and forth like a caged animal.

  “Roman,” I plead, “tell me what’s going on.” I’ve asked this question before, but can’t help circling back to it. “Is it my family? Are you afraid they won’t approve?”

  He couldn’t be more wrong on that front. My father loves him as if he were his own flesh and blood. I’ve never seen him take an interest in anyone who isn’t part of our family the way he has with Roman. You’d think my brothers would be jealous of their relationship, but they’re not. They’re relieved that Papa has found someone strong and capable to assist him. Like me, they each have their own ideas about what they want to do with their lives. And Roman makes it easier for them.

  Fed up with the silent treatment, I say, “They would, you know. My father considers you family.”

  A man like Roman should understand exactly what those words mean. How significant they are.

  But he continues to
pace as though he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said.

  When he reaches the far end of the room, he swings sharply toward me. He plants his feet and stares at me through bleak eyes. “It’s not your family.”

  His words make me want to tear my hair out. “Then tell me what it is. I don’t understand why you won’t let me in.” I wish he’d put me out of my misery already.

  A silent war wages in his eyes.

  His emotional conflict threatens to rip my heart out, but I can’t force the information from him. He needs to trust me, and right now he’s unwilling to do that.

  “There are things you don’t know. Things I can’t share.” Before I can argue, he cuts me off with, “I can’t, Sofia! This is the way it needs to be. There’s nothing that can be done about it.”

  A shield falls over his eyes. The battle that had raged in his gaze vanishes. “If you can’t accept that, then we need to end this right now.”

  Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I hold them in. I don’t want him to see that the hope I’d had for him to open up and let me in has been replaced by heartache and sadness. I shrug as if the conversation isn’t important. “Consider the matter dropped.”

  Roman’s façade drops as emotion flickers across his face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You’re not,” I say as nonchalantly as possible, pulling my lips into a small smile. I’m lying, of course. It feels like a knife has been plunged into my heart.

  He scrutinizes my face and scrubs a hand over his head. “I knew this was a mistake. Maybe it would be best for both of us to end things sooner rather than later. Neither of us can afford to get in any deeper.”

  My heart spasms. It takes supreme effort to keep my expression neutral. I don’t want to lose him before I figure out what he’s keeping from me.

  Until Roman took me in his arms, I didn’t realize how empty and alone I’d felt. I feel lighter, brighter, and more alive than ever before when I’m with him.

  It’s as if my life has been painted in vibrant and spectacular color. The idea of going back to dull, drab browns and grays of the past makes me feel panicky.

  The relationship I have with Roman feels like water leaking through my hand. No matter how hard I squeeze my fingers together, liquid continues to seep through the cracks. The realization that I can’t hold on to him if he doesn’t want me to is a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s an undeniable reality.

  Instead of giving him the desperate denial poised on my tongue, I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. I calmly ask, “Is that what you want?”

  His eyes close for a few seconds and open to reveal a new struggle being fought inside him. “No, it’s not. But our involvement complicates matters. I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen.”

  “So you’ve mentioned,” I say dryly.

  He turns toward the picture window overlooking the street. His biceps bulge when he clasps both hands behind his neck. Tension radiates off him in thick, suffocating waves. “It would be so much easier if you just walked away.”

  I stand and walk over to him, looping my arms around his middle until my chest flattens against his back. “I’m not going to do that. If you want to end this, go ahead. But don’t ask me to pull the trigger. I can’t.” Closing my eyes, I lean into him.

  His shoulders slump in defeat. He laughs, but there isn’t a trace of humor in it. “If I told you everything, Sofia, you would run from me and never look back.”

  My mind conjures up the worst-case scenarios that would be a deal breaker for me. Roman being a stone-cold killer with no remorse. Him working for the Russians. Him being a rat who has infiltrated the Valentinis close-knit ranks.

  My belly pinches with unease at the last disturbing thought. I Immediately push it aside because Roman has been nothing but loyal to my family. He’s worked for them for more than five years. My father trusts him implicitly.

  But what if he did work for the enemy? Would that be enough to make me run from him? Would that be enough to kill my feelings for him?

  The man who held me captive with cold steel pressed against my throat intrudes on my thoughts. The way he touched me, the threats he whispered in my ear…

  I tamp down the shudder that wants to slide through me and force the memory away.

  Roman can’t work for the Russians.

  Because if he did…

  I would have no choice but to run.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A bell trills overhead as I push through the door of a high-end bridal boutique on Michigan Avenue.

  Grace officially begins her search for the perfect wedding gown today, and my head swims with the reality that her relationship with Matteo has progressed at breakneck speed.

  A year ago, my brother hit the town every night of the week with a different beautiful woman hanging off his arm. He wasn’t the least bit interested in settling down with one specific female.

  He avoided intimate relationships altogether. That changed the moment Grace became a part of his life. I guess what they say is true—when you meet the right person, you just know. Love has the power to change your entire world.

  It saddens me that even though I have those same emotions for Roman, there doesn’t seem to be a way for us to make our relationship work. I’ve tried breaking down his resistance, but he continues to hold steady. There’s nothing more for me to do but accept the cold, hard reality that the relationship Roman and I have will eventually end.

  That thought is so painful that it leaves me gasping for air. I sweep it from my mind to numb the ache and focus on the reason I’m at this boutique at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. I focus on the joy of helping Grace choose a beautiful gown for her impending nuptials to my brother.

  My mother is already camped out on a sleek white couch in the viewing area at the back of the store, leisurely flipping through a bridal magazine.

  “Morning, Mama.” Tucking all thoughts of Roman into the back of my mind where they belong, I give her a cheerful smile. The last thing I need is for her to catch a whiff of what’s going on. The woman is tenacious and will drag the information from me in a matter of minutes.

  Then I’ll never hear the end of it.

  Setting the magazine on the glass and chrome coffee table, she rushes over to greet me. “Hello, darling!” She enfolds me in her arms and crushes me to her as if she hasn’t seen me in years instead of a little over a week.

  Because I’m hurting, I allow myself to sink into her warm embrace and savor the comfort of her strong arms. We’ve always been close. In the past, she was the first person I sought out when I had a problem.

  I imagined growing up to be just like my mother when I was little. She was always such a strong force to be reckoned with. Although my father presides over the family business, my mother rules the family itself. She’s the one we all run to. My parents, despite their traditional values, have always been true partners in every sense of the word.

  As that thought flits through my head, I realize how much I want that with Roman and how powerless I am to make it happen. I again have to tamp down all my rioting emotions and redirect my attention. Matteo and Grace are getting the happily-ever-after they deserve. I don’t think the same will happen for Roman and me, which is painful to admit.

  Roman’s secret is wedged deeply between us. Until he trusts me enough to let me in, we’ll forever be stuck having each other, but not really belonging to one another.

  My mother’s hands flutter to my face and caress my cheeks as if she has the power to read my thoughts with the stroke of her fingers. I widen my smile in defense as she studies me with narrowed eyes. Mama is the most intuitive person I know. Not much gets past her.

  “Is everything all right, Sofia?” she asks, concern coloring her words. “Has something else happened?” Her brows knit together. “Your father tells me nothing.”

  Not wanting her to worry needlessly, I shake my head. “Nope, it’s all good.”

  Tilting her head to the side, her
gaze continues to probe mine. “How is it with Roman at the house?”

  “It’s fine. There are no problems.” I give her a careless shrug to throw her off the scent.

  But she’s much too clever for her own good, and follows up with, “Are you two getting along any better?”

  I roll my eyes. “We’re fine, Mama. Roman is Roman, just like he’s always been. We don’t spend much time together. I’m at school most of the day and only see him in the evenings.” I feel bad for lying, but I can’t tell her that he sleeps in my bed every night. If she continues her interrogation, she’ll see through my paper-thin façade and everything festering inside will pour out in a torrent.

  She makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “Sofia?”

  I blink back to our conversation. “Yes, Mama?”

  “I’m not sure what’s going on, but you don’t seem like yourself this morning. If something’s bothering you, tell me.” She pauses, giving me ample time to jump in and spill my guts.

  It’s a tried-and-true tactic. When I was a teenager, I would usually implicate myself for any committed infractions. All my mother or father had to do was silently stare at me for about three minutes, and I’d sweat bullets before folding like a house of cards.

  To a certain extent, I’m still like that.

  I keep my lips firmly pressed together. As much as I want to confide in her, I need to go it alone. “I told you before, everything is fine. It’s been a long week. I’m tired.”

  She pats my cheek affectionately. “You work too hard.”

  I glance around the elegant shop, taking in the mirrored tables, crystal chandeliers, and mannequins dressed in the latest designs. I need to change the subject before Mama begins discussing my dating situation or the grandbabies she’s not-so-patiently waiting for. “Has Grace arrived yet?”

  “They’ve already whisked her away to a fitting room to try on the first gown. I’m sure she’ll be out shortly.”

  We sit on the couch as a saleswoman in a fitted suit, her hair pulled back into a tight chignon, offers us flutes of champagne from a gleaming silver platter.