Page 75 of His Darkest Obsession
"A wife that you didn’t even know existed a week ago," Roma counters, unflinching. "And now you’re offering to kill for her? And you’re going to let her watch?"
"She wants this.”
Roma stares at me with that irritating, perceptive look I've known since we were kids, and he points at the signet ring on my finger.
“You never gave me a proper answer about why you wanted to make this marriage real. Just said that it’s for the best of the bratva. Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings for this girl."
"Fuck off." I drain my glass and slam it down. "This has nothing to do with feelings. This is about justice for her family’s murder. "
"Justice?" Roma asks softly. “Since when did we start dealing out justice?”
"Are you questioning my judgement, Roma Stepanovich?" I harden my voice.
“No, my pakhan.” Roma sighs, running a hand through his brown hair streaked with gold. "I’m just telling you to be careful. For all our sakes."
26
INDIGO
He orderedme to look at him while I come for him.
And I did.
I can't stop staring at my hands.
I can still feel the phantom heat of Anatoly’s skin, the weight and thickness of his cock in my palm, and the sticky ropes of semen that coated my fingers.
Outside, night blankets the world as storm clouds roll in from the sea. Every once in a while, the sky murmurs with lightning and distant thunder. My fingers flex involuntarily, as if they're trying to recapture that exact moment from three days ago.
Turning from the window, I pace the length of my bedroom.
Every step sends little aftershocks through my body. Even after three days, I can still feel his fingers buried deep inside me, hear the command in his voice, and see his eyes drilling into mine as I came for him.
Everything we did was wrong, and somehow, we did it anyways.
We didn’t do it because I thought he’s serious about protecting me, even though I felt the protective rage rolling off his body in waves as he sent his family out on the threat of death.
We didn’t do it because his touch sets me on fire every time he comes close to me, even though the moment his hand brushed skin, I’m powerless to stop myself from opening up for him.
We didn’t do it because I started the day wanting to see what just happens when I push him to his own breaking point. Or what happens if he loses control.
Yet all of those are exactly why we got to that moment.
And now that we’ve done it and I let him inside—limited as it might’ve been—I know that I can’t dig him out even if I try. A breathless shiver runs through me.
I can’t stop thinking about it. About him. About how good he made me feel. HowsafeI felt both in and around his hands.
And like a man dying of thirst who’s had just a small sip of water, I want more.
So much more.
Even now, days later, my body is still humming with need. Had I been able to speak back in that study, I know I would’ve begged him right then and there. And nothing in the world would’ve stopped him from doing exactly what he wanted.
Exactly what I wanted.
That’s the truth, isn’t it? I want this. Maybe as badly as him. Maybe even more badly than he wants it. And I wonder just how much he knows I want it.
Is this why he’s still waiting for me to beg him? Because he knows he’s already won the game and he wants to see just how longI’mwilling to keep pretending? The thought sends another wave of heat shivering up my face, and I force my eyes to the darkness outside of my window.
