The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(110)

“Who the f*ck else would it be getting into your bed at three in the morning?” he asks, taking the gun away from me and placing it on my nightstand.

That’s a good question. “Roman? How are you in my bed? You don’t have a key. You gave me a heart attack!”

“I could tell by the way you were about to shoot me. Motherf*cker, what the hell has happened to you in the past that you sleep with a gun under your pillow?”

That’s a question I’m not about to answer. “Will you tell me how you got in?” I ask instead, my eyes following his body and enjoying the view. Roman is probably the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life. Roman without a shirt is deadly. He might be covered up too, but shivers run through me when I realize he’s probably completely naked and in my bed.

“Pet, you’ll find there’s not much I can’t do when I want it. And I think we’ve established that I want you. Now let’s get back to the question at hand. Why do you sleep with a gun under your pillow?” he asks, and I try to ignore the distraction of a naked Roman to concentrate on our conversation.

“I’m a single woman alone in the city,” I compromise. It sounds plausible? Right?

“If I get my hands on your brother, I may choke the life out of him for leaving you in the position where you think you need a gun to protect yourself.”

I listen to him and there’s a lot to think about in that one sentence. Most of all, it sounds like he hasn’t killed my brother. Maybe it’s not him that has Allen at all. Could the informant have been wrong? On the heels of that thought is the warm feeling I get inside at the fact that Roman is concerned about me. No one ever has been, except Paul … and now I wonder if he ever really was. If we had the relationship I thought we had, would he have put me in the situation I am in right now? The Paul I had created in my mind would have never done anything underhanded.

I push thoughts of Paul out of my head. I can’t deal with that right now. I have the coke locked in a firebox under my bed. Fuck if I know what I’m going to do. As I look at Roman now and see how tired and upset he looks, pain squeezes my heart.

“You had a bad night,” I tell him. It’s not a question; the truth of it is written all over his face.

“Yeah, pet. It was a bad night.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s a reason I don’t do relationships, Ana. You get what I do, everything I am. It’s not a normal nine-to-five, nor is it what most people could accept. I have my own laws, my own code…”

“Roman, everyone has the same laws.”

“No, pet. They don’t. But it doesn’t concern you.”

“If we’re dating…”

“I told you, I don’t—”

“Whatever we’re doing, we seem to be heading in a direction where—”

“Where we’re going to f*ck over and over?”

I smile, despite the gravity of the situation facing me. I feel like a fraud, even as a larger part of me wants to believe that I’m having this conversation because somehow I’ll get to keep Roman. I think I really want to keep him.

“Freak. I was going to say it looks like we may be spending more time together.”

“Oh yeah, definitely spending more time together.”

I shake my head at him. “Roman, I’m serious. If we keep seeing each other, your life and choices will affect me. Don’t you think I need to know more? To prepare myself, if nothing else?”

“We’re definitely going to keep seeing each other, Ana,” he says, cupping the side of my face. He seems to do that a lot, and I’m not going to lie. Every time he does, a small piece of the distance I try to keep between us chips away. “And nothing I do will ever touch you, pet. I’m starting to realize you aren’t used to having a real man in your life, but you’re mine,” he says and the words vibrate through in a way that causes every single female part inside of me to clench in pleasure. Can you orgasm without any kind of sex? “I’ve claimed you and I will protect you from everything, including myself. Nothing will touch you.”

Wow. If only he could, but he can’t. He has no idea who I am, and he thinks I don’t know anything about him. Our relationship, or whatever this is, has all been built on a house of cards and I’m the dealer. What will Roman do when he finds out he’s being played?

I bring my hand up to cover his and pull it to my lips to kiss his palm. “It’s too late to be having this type of conversation and you look worn out. Let’s get some rest and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow,” I urge him. I really can’t handle any more heart-to-heart tonight.

“Ana, I’ve been wanting you under me all night. If you think I’m going to be satisfied with just sleep, you’re dreaming.”

“Noted. But first, we need to make you less tense.”

“Sex does that.”

“So does a backrub.”

“A backrub?”

“You sound doubtful, but these hands,” I tell him, holding my hands up and cracking my knuckles. “These hands are miracle workers.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Completely. Now lay down on your stomach,” I order him, getting up from the bed to grab a bottle of lotion. I make note to go shopping tomorrow to get some massage oil, preferably heated. It wasn’t something I foresaw me needing before now. I go to the dresser, finding the lotion. I stop before I make it back to the bed. Roman is lying on his stomach, his head turned to watch me. He has the strangest look on his face. “What?” I ask, wondering if I’ve given myself away. Could I have pushed too much? Does he suspect something?