ROMAN LAY STILL for a long time, his brain working overtime to fight through the heavy fog that always came after orgasm. This was different—heavier, somehow. He had never experienced a climax so intense.
Thoughts of why he should not feel so relaxed threatened the edges of his consciousness but he fought them off. He would analyse the repercussions of what they had just done in the morning, for now he thoroughly intended to repeat the experience just as soon as she was able.
He turned on his side, looking down at her where she lay curled on her side. Her eyes were closed, and for a moment he wondered if she was asleep, but then her lashes fluttered open and he was pinned by that blue-green gaze. Her hair had come undone at some stage, and its long lengths were spread across his sombre grey pillows in all their vibrant red glory. If possible, it looked even redder in that moment.
He reached out, taking a strand in his hands and running his fingers along the length of it. He was suddenly overcome by the realisation that it had been her first time and he had almost taken her in the swimming pool. Thankfully his brain hadn’t been too far gone to realise that she deserved an actual bed for such a delicate moment, and that they needed to use protection. He never forgot to take precautions.
‘I hope that was...satisfactory?’ He smiled, a glow of male pride in his chest as he took in the slow smile that spread across her face.
‘I never even dreamed that it could be so...’ she began, shaking her head. ‘Earth-shattering.’
‘It isn’t always that way.’
He ran a finger down the valley of her breasts, watching the play of light on her flawless skin. He had only just finished making love to her and he yet he couldn’t stop touching her.
‘I’m glad my first time was with you,’ she said softly.
Roman stilled, taking in the look of deep emotion in her eyes. Knowing his own personal warning bells should be ringing at full blast. She was not experienced enough to separate the physical side of what they had just shared from her emotional reaction. And yet even as he told himself to remind her of his rules he found that he himself was having a hard time abiding by them.
He fought the urge to lean in, to kiss her mouth and lay a trail of kisses down her neck. He frowned. Such actions were dangerously close to tenderness. He was not a tender lover—to a virgin or not.
But he cared what she thought of him, that she’d enjoyed her first time—that was entirely normal, wasn’t it?
Maybe that was the problem. He had nothing to compare it to, having steered clear of virgins up to now. He had never enjoyed the idea of being a woman’s first, of having that much pressure on the act. But now, knowing he was the only one to have touched her, been inside her, heard her scream out in her orgasm...
He wanted more.
It was a dangerous madness, feeling like this. He had always prided himself on remaining detached and aloof from the women he chose to spend time with. They knew he wasn’t in it for commitment. They got what they needed and left his bed satisfied as a result.
Olivia sighed deeply and moved so that she lay against his side. Her hand stroked up the inside of his wrist to his elbow and he looked down to see her curiously tracing the thick black band of ink that encircled his forearm.
He didn’t think of the tattoo often—it was usually covered up and out of sight. But every now and then he found himself looking at it, thinking of the man who’d branded him, of the life that had branded him. And yet he had never had it removed.
‘It’s a gang tattoo,’ he offered, not knowing why he suddenly felt the urge to explain. ‘Not my own personal choice of design.’
Her lips formed a delicate little O as her fingers stilled over him. ‘From your time in prison?’ she asked quietly.
‘Long before prison.’
A silence fell between them. Roman wondered if perhaps she was regretting her choice of lover after his revelation, but after a moment she sat up on her elbow, pinning him with her gaze.
‘This gang—did they use guns a lot? Is that where your fear stems from?’
Roman frowned, laying his head back against the pillows as he remembered the events of the day before in painful detail. ‘No. That’s not where it comes from.’
She seemed suddenly self-conscious. ‘I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly pillow-talk material. I know you are probably the kind of guy who doesn’t like to talk afterwards.’
‘I don’t,’ he said honestly. ‘But I can compromise.’ He turned smoothly onto his side, so that they were face to face. ‘You can ask me one question about my past and I will answer it—truthfully.’
Her eyelashes lowered momentarily. ‘Who is Sofiya?’
Roman was silent for a moment. Then, ‘Sofiya was my little sister,’ he said. ‘She died a long time ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Olivia’s brow deepened into a frown. ‘She must have been very young.’
‘Sixteen.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s in the past. Almost twenty years ago.’
‘Grief doesn’t care about time.’ The corners of her lips tilted down sadly. ‘My grandmother was buried ten years ago and I still visit her grave often.’