Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
He could scream. Ryan and James would hear him easily if he did.
“Miss me, solnyshko?” said a deceptively soft voice.
Luke lunged forward and slammed their lips together. Roman’s hands grabbed his face, his hot lips searing him, his tongue invading Luke’s mouth with a single-minded intensity as the scruff of Roman’s beard burned Luke’s skin.
God, it felt like he was drowning, like he was coming apart at the seams and the only thing holding him together was Roman’s mouth and hands. Small, broken moans left Luke’s trembling, hungry lips—he’d needed this, needed this so much—his arms looping around Roman’s neck, his body straining up, like a flower reaching up to the sun. Roman’s big hands slid down Luke’s back before squeezing Luke’s cheeks and hauling him up—
Whimpering against Roman’s mouth, Luke wrapped his legs around his waist and let Roman carry him…somewhere. At least he thought they were moving, but thinking was hard, thinking was bloody impossible while his entire body was shuddering with carnal and emotional need. He could only cling to Roman, hands moving greedily all over Roman’s wide back, touching the muscles straining under the shirt—and God, his mouth tasted so good, he smelled so good, earthy and masculine, not at all like the expensive cologne Dominic used—
Fuck, Dominic.
Luke tore his mouth away, gasping out, “Wait—I can’t.”
Roman pushed him against the wall of the house, pinning him easily with just his hips. Luke swallowed a whimper as their erections ground together.
“Why not?” Roman said, his arms bracketing Luke’s head, his blue eyes boring into his.
Luke licked his swollen, oversensitive lips, feeling dizzy from Roman’s proximity. Thinking and talking was a challenge when all he wanted was Roman’s mouth back on his.
“What are you even doing here?” Luke whispered hoarsely, trying to make his legs untangle from Roman’s waist. They refused to cooperate. “Are you stalking me? That’s too creepy, even for you.”
“I’m in London on business,” Roman said, his lips twisting. “I have better things to do than stalk you, love.”
A wave of humiliation washed over him before Luke realized it wasn’t really an answer. “Then what are you doing here?” he said, lifting his chin. “It’s not even my house.”
For a moment, Roman didn’t reply. “You didn’t tell anyone it was me who kidnapped you. I wanted to ask you why. That’s why I’m here.”
Oh.
Trying to ignore the crushing disappointment in his belly, Luke forced himself to slide his legs down. Still bracketed by Roman’s arms, he took a deep breath. “Was it you?”
“Pardon?”
“Was it you who murdered my father?”
Something shifted about Roman’s expression. “No,” he said, looking him in the eye.
Luke breathed out, the guilt he’d carried inside of him for a month finally loosening its hold on him. He may not have loved his father, he may have barely known him, but Richard Whitford had still been his dad. It had been killing him to think that he might be partly responsible for his father’s death because he hadn’t told anyone about Roman’s involvement in his kidnapping.
The relief he now felt was so immense that Luke found himself smiling.
“Blyad,” Roman cursed before leaning down and sucking the skin of Luke’s cheek into his mouth, where one of his dimples was. He kept on sucking. He was going to leave a love bite for sure.
“Stop,” Luke managed. “I’m not—you can’t.”
Roman breathed into his cheek, steely fingers gripping Luke’s hips. “Why not?
“I’m—I’m sort of seeing someone.” For some reason, he felt a pang of guilt. Stupid. So stupid.
His entire body protested when Roman pulled back.
The streetlight lamp wasn’t bright enough for him to discern Roman’s expression.
“Seeing someone?” Roman said.
Feeling oddly uneasy, Luke nodded. It was a very small white lie, wasn’t it? He and Dominic weren’t together yet, but they had a tentative understanding that they would be. They were dating. Sort of.
“He’s great,” Luke said. “I like him a lot. So I wouldn’t fool around with you even if you weren’t…you. I’m not a cheater. I despise cheating.”
Roman had the nerve to look amused. “I see you’re still the same sentimental, foolish boy with his head stuck in the clouds.”
Luke glowered at him.
Roman smoothed the wrinkle between Luke’s brows with his thumb. “Is that disgruntled kitten look supposed to be intimidating?” he said, his mocking tone contradicting the hunger in his gaze. It was such an unsettling contrast: Roman spoke to him with such derision and yet looked at him as if he wanted to consume him.
“I loathe you,” Luke said.
A corner of Roman’s mouth twitched. “Is that why you’re fondling me, love?”
Luke looked down and flushed, staring in betrayal at his own hands stroking Roman’s chest. He jerked his hands away and balled them by his sides.
“It’s just some stupid Stockholm syndrome thing,” he said, blinking rapidly as angry tears welled in his eyes. What was wrong with him? He had finally met an amazing man, someone he could build a life with. Why the hell did he feel like burrowing his face in Roman’s chest, clinging to him with all his limbs, and begging Roman to take him away?