But she wasn’t indifferent. Far from it. The kiss they’d shared and the way she’d fought to keep him close after they’d been interrupted had irrefutably proven it. She hadn’t just responded to his touch and his kiss. She’d ignited for him. Unfurled the way a roaring fire licked hungrily against the sky.
He wanted more of it. Wanted to feel those questing hands of hers on his skin and explore her curves for days.
He exited the highway and turned onto St. Charles, his home and the chance to be alone with her once more—free of distractions and surrounded by comfort—beating at his patience.
Now that he thought about it, it was before the kiss that her pretense had fallen. The moment she’d turned from her father’s closet and found herself toe-to-toe with him. It’d taken a second—all of a swift, indrawn breath for the platonic facade to shatter. She’d trembled against him. Had refused to meet his stare until he’d forced the issue.
And fuck if he’d ever forget the impact when he saw her eyes. Wide. Her pupils dilated and the green around them deep as the towering spruce trees from his homeland. He doubted she even realized how naturally her lips had parted for him.
But he’d taken the chance. Had thrown caution to the wind in a most uncustomary way and reveled in her taste. In her moans and the soft press of her breasts against him.
Every second had been worth it. And as soon as the garage door was down and the security system armed, he had every intention of indulging in much, much more.
In the passenger seat, Bonnie sat silent. Not once on the drive home had she tried to engage in conversation or deflect whatever emotions held her almost immovable with her typical snarky remarks. He’d confused her with his words before they’d left her father’s house. Accepted that she’d likely interpreted them to mean he would not engage again in any physical contact. Whether it made him a mercenary of the cruelest nature or not, he planned to use her confusion—her faulty conclusions and her natural inclination to expect the worst-case scenario—to his advantage. If she thought he’d accepted distance, cornering her in his room where he could make the truth unequivocally known would be that much easier.
She was his.
His to provide for. His to protect.
His to keep.
The second he’d kissed her he’d known it. Felt it on the most primitive level, all the whispered clues given by his instinctual self from the day he’d met her instantly roaring with certainty.
He punched the garage door remote and pulled into the drive. He’d barely put the gearshift in park when her hand curled around the door’s latch and jerked it upward. “I’m beat. Gonna call it night.” She slid out of the seat like the hounds of hell were within biting distance and slammed the door shut.
He couldn’t blame her. In a way, she was right to run. He was a devil. A collector of souls with more blood on his hands than he could ever wash away or atone for.
But he was past the point of caring. She would know him and all of his secrets—just as soon as he won her heart. Whatever it took, he would get there. Starting with a very physical show of his devotion.
He caught up with her at the back door, the bolt for which she did not yet have a key blocking her sprint for distance. Given how she glared at the lock and crossed her arms across her chest rather than watch his approach, the derailment of her plans was met with much consternation.
Crowding unnecessarily close behind her, he slowly slid the key home and savored her soft, flowery scent. He lowered his head so his soft words were uttered close to her ear. “You’re not running from me, are you, vozlyublennaya?”
“Me?” She started to turn and give him a sassy glare, but seemed to realize the action would put her mouth too close to his and scowled at the back door instead. “No. Why would I run from you?”
He slid the bolt free.
Her hand closed around the knob all of a heartbeat later, and she quickly entered the kitchen. She slowed her steps as soon as she got beyond reaching distance and feigned a casual pace toward the hallway exit at the far end and the stairs beyond it.
With the door to the garage shut and bolted, Roman thumbed up the remote app for his security system on his phone and armed it, all the while keeping his own leisurely pace not far behind her. “You’re sure you’re not running? You seem...shaken. Jumpy.”
She started up the stairs, glancing over one shoulder when Roman did the same. She shook her head, eyes focused on the carpet as she cleared the second story landing and rounded for the flight to the third floor. “Just tired.”
“Hmm.” A decidedly mild response compared to the building hunger inside him. Only a few more steps and he’d have her where he wanted her. Where he could show her in the most tactile way possible his exact intent. “I thought you said you were accustomed to much later nights. It’s only just after midnight.”
Just three steps from the top, she dared another glance behind her. “Well, I’m not tired as in sleepy. Just need to unwind. You know...decompress a bit.”
He followed tight on her heels.
When she passed the master bedroom’s threshold, she turned and volleyed her gaze between him and his hand on the doorknob. “Did you need something before you head to your room? I mean, I can duck out for a while if you need to get more things.”
He shut the door. “No.” Satisfaction roared inside him as the lock snicked into place. He faced her. “I have everything I need right here.”
His attention might have been rooted on her, but hers was riveted to the doorknob behind her. She swallowed hard then shifted her gaze to him. “What’s going on?”
“There have been enough words spoken.” He stalked toward her.
Bonnie answered with a shaky backward step of her own. “I’m gonna have to disagree on that one. Especially right now.” The backs of her knees met the end of the bed, and she braced her hands on his chest. Not a push to keep him away, though. If anything, her fingers twitched against the fabric of the long-sleeved tee he’d donned this morning. As if her instinct was to explore him the way she had at her father’s house, but her conscience wouldn’t relent.
Much as it pained him to rob himself of her touch—even for a moment—he pulled her hands free and pushed her jacket off her shoulders. “I promised you clarity.” He tossed the jacket to the floor and nudged her off balance so she ended up seated on the edge of the bed. “Now, you will get it in a way you cannot misunderstand.”
She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue further, but clamped it shut when he knelt on one knee at her feet. The shoes Evette had loaned her to match the André’s uniform were understated. Black leather with a modest heel. Definitely not the style Bonnie would have picked for herself, but more comfortable while tending bar.