When did another person look at me and not see the front I tried so hard to put on and instead see me for who I really was?
I couldn’t even remember.
I had spent so long trying to be the person everyone wanted me to be, I lost a part of myself in the process.
I doubt even my own parents knew who their daughter was.
My lips trembled, and more tears fell.
He made a soft protesting noise in the back of his throat and kissed me again. My hands moved up to his neck on their own accord, my nails digging into his skin as indecision waged war inside my heart.
Did I push him away or pull him closer?
What should I do with my hands?
Fuck,butwhat should I do with my hands?
I whimpered against him, and he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine.
I was afraid to open my eyes.
His hands came back down to my waist, gripping me in his death grip.
I swallowed around the lump stuck in my throat and opened my eyes to look at him.
“You can tell me no,” he said. “It won’t matter. I’m not a good man, Ryleigh. And I won’t pretend to be one.”
I frowned before my confusion cleared.
He was letting me keep my innocence.
Give me the pretense of fighting him because it didn’t matter.
He wouldn’t give me a choice.
“No,” I breathed out.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over my face.
He kissed me again.
I gripped his neck. “No. Stop,” I said when he pulled away.
“Fuck, fuck,fuck.”
He pulled me in closer to him until I wrapped my legs around his trim waist.
He pushed me down against the mattress, crawling on top of me, my legs still wrapped around him.
Roman was like a warm, heavy blanket on top of me, and I didn’t know if I should feel scared or comforted by that fact.
He rocked against me, and I couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped.
“Please,” I whimpered. I didn’t know what I was asking him for, only… just…
“Please.”
“Shh,” he said. “I got you. You’re mine. No matter what you say or do. No matter how hard you fight me. You’re mine.”
