‘Really? And what if I gave you all the power now? What would you take from me? How would you exact your revenge? Is it a signature you want or is there something else?’
Her mind stopped. Short-circuited. Instead, it threw up images of her deepest, darkest dreams from the last eight months. Fantasies of a wedding night that had never been, ones that she could barely admit to herself even though she’d woken up morning after morning hot and exhausted, aching with an unsatisfied need. A need that only one man could truly satisfy.
‘Is that why you’re really here? Do you know as much as I that we have unfinished business?’ he demanded, his words surprisingly soft, gentle almost, seductive.
‘Says the man who reportedly saved my innocence,’ she bit out angrily.
He leaned into her then, closing the small space between them, dipping his head to whisper in her ear. ‘Says the woman who would give it away to have her revenge.’
He pulled back, his eyes raking over her body as if looking for something, some kind of sign—something she feared that her body would betray. Had perhaps already betrayed.
‘What if I said that you could take your vengeance out on me? Right here, right now?’ Once again, her husband was pulling the rug from beneath her. Turning her words and intentions against her. Because suddenly she wanted that more than anything. She barely had the time to wonder if she had been fooling herself all along. If she had, in fact, come here with that one purpose.
‘What if I gave you one night—just this night—to take whatever it is you want? Because, Ella, I would lay myself prostrate on that funeral pyre and die a happy man.’
The raw admittance, guttural and dark with desire, completely undid her. A strange heady sense of vulnerability, the image of her husband willingly giving her whatever she desired for this one night, fired a heat deep within her until she ached, a sob of need rising within her chest threatening to escape.
‘And I am supposed to believe a word that comes out of your mouth?’ Her last line of defence, half begging and half pleading, for what outcome, she no longer knew.
‘Then don’t believe my words… Believe this.’
His lips claimed hers with an almost primal need. These were not the same gentle sweet-tasting lies pressed against her lips she remembered. This was raw, unadulterated desire. Seeking, demanding, expecting.
She gasped as her mouth opened to his, desperately seeking oxygen that only served to feed the fire within her. The fire of need and want and so much more. Yes, she admitted to herself, this was what she had wanted.
Ever since she had first seen him, Ella had sensed this about him, had desired and coveted it. All her imaginings of how she would feel, what it would be like, paled in comparison as his arms swept around her, his hands trailing fire across her body, over her breasts and clutching at her hips, drawing her into him, against him, against his arousal. Showing her his own need for her.
‘This is what you do to me, Ella. Does that please you?’
Ella could not speak, could barely think to respond, but her body knew. She groaned into his kiss, the shocking sound of her own desire undeniable. Her hands flew to his chest, her mind warring with her heart as she fisted the cotton of his shirt, claiming and owning her own need for him in a way that shocked her.
While his tongue plundered her mouth, rendering her senseless to anything but the raw passion he was building within her, his hands teased up the taut hemline of her skirt a few inches, his fingers reaching beneath to mould her thighs and backside with his palms. Her passionate cries were nothing compared to the growl of raw want that vibrated across her skin.
Drawing back, he spun her in his arms and pressed her against the wall of the room, her arms coming up to brace against the strangely soothing cool panel. His body leaned against her from behind and he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck, nudging her head to one side to give himself better access to the sensitive area behind her ear. Held like this, she felt completely surrounded, crowded but deliciously so, desperate for more, for something she couldn’t quite explain.
His hand clutched the nape of her neck briefly, strongly, a display of his power, there and gone in a moment, as he pressed the pad of his thumb to the top of her spine and traced the outline to where the material of her dress barely covered the curve of her hips. She arched into the touch, pressing her breast into his other hand, and nearly cried out as he ran a knuckle over her hardened nipple.
His hands covered her, worshipped her, slipping beneath the material that barely covered her breast and causing her to lean back against him, against the hard ridge of his arousal. Her head drew back to rest against his shoulder, her breathing harsh and her cries of pleasure falling about them, discarded in the air.
‘So glorious. So magnificent…’ Roman’s words were a continuation of the seduction his body was performing.
His hand swept around her neck, cupping her chin in his palm, and she couldn’t help but bend into it, taking his finger into her mouth where his tongue had been, sucking on him, consuming him in any way she could.
She felt him tremble behind her, the action sending fierce satisfaction through her to have this man as weak with need as she was. And then he turned her in his arms once again, to face him, a raised eyebrow taking in that power she felt, appreciating her own power, encouraging it even. The harsh slash of red across his cheeks speaking of his arousal, the ferocity of his
