Page 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Romeo

The storm begins as a distant rumble, low and menacing, rolling across the hills like a warning. By evening, it’s a full symphony of thunder and rain, the windows rattling under the force of the wind.

The estate, so serene during the day, now feels like a fortress against the chaos outside.

I’ve always loved storms. Their unpredictability, their sheer power—it resonates with something deep inside me. Tonight, I find no comfort in the raging weather. My thoughts are too loud, too restless.

Viviana.

Her name lingers in my mind like an echo I can’t escape.

She’s managed to burrow her way under my skin, into my thoughts, and I hate how much control she has over me. Every time I think I’ve figured her out, she surprises me. Every time I think I’ve secured her, she slips through my fingers in some way.

When I find her in the library, curled up on one of the leather chairs by the fire, it’s not surprise I feel—it’s inevitability.

She’s always drawing me in without even trying. She’s barefoot, her legs tucked under her, a book resting on her lap. The flickering firelight dances across her face, softening the sharp angles of her expression.

For a moment, I just stand there, watching her. She hasn’t noticed me yet, too absorbed in whatever world the book has drawn her into. But then she shifts, her head tilting slightly, and her eyes lift to meet mine.

“You make a habit of staring at people,” she observes, her tone dry but lacking the sharpness it usually carries.

“Only when they’re worth looking at,” I reply, stepping further into the room.

She snorts, closing the book with a soft thud. “That’s original.”

I lean against the mantle, my arms crossed as I watch her. “It’s the truth.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “What do you want, Romeo?”

The question hangs in the air, heavier than it should be. The truth is, I’m not entirely sure. I want her safe. I want her close. I want her to stop fighting me at every turn and just accept that this—us—is inevitable.

“Why do you always assume I want something from you?” I ask, my voice calm.

“Well, you always do,” she retorts, setting the book aside. “You don’t do anything without a reason.”

I smirk, pushing off the mantle to close the distance between us. “Maybe I just wanted to enjoy the fire.”

“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re a real romantic.”

I stop a few steps away, close enough to feel the warmth of the fire and the heat of her presence. “Why do you fight me so much?” I ask, my tone soft but probing.

She stiffens, her eyes narrowing. “Fight you?”

“Yes,” I say simply, gesturing between us. “You feel it. I know you do.”

Her laugh is disarming, but it sounds slightly off-key. “You have no idea how you have impacted me over the past few months, do you?”

“I protected you,” I counter, my voice hardening. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

“I’m supposed to be grateful?” she says, rising from the chair. Her eyes blaze with emotion as she steps closer, her finger jabbing at my chest. “You don’t trust me. You don’t believe in love. You don’t know how to value those who value you yourself.”

“I’ve never pretended to be a savior,” I say, my voice low, dangerous. “Even so, I’ve kept you alive. That’s worth something.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us is electric, charged with anger and something deeper, something neither of us wants to name.

“You have to stop trying to control me,” she says finally, her voice trembling slightly.

“I don’t want to control you,” I reply, stepping closer. “I want you to admit the truth.”

Her lips part, confusion flickering across her face. “What truth?”

“That you feel this too,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “That you’re as drawn to this—to me—as I am to you.”

She shakes her head, taking a step back, but I follow, refusing to let her put distance between us. “This isn’t healthy, Romeo,” she says, though her voice lacks conviction.

“Who says that relationships have to be healthy?” I ask, my hand lifting to cup her face. She flinches slightly but doesn’t pull away. My thumb brushes against her cheek, the softness of her skin sending a jolt through me. “Tell me you don’t feel it. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this.”

Her breath comes faster, her chest rising and falling as her eyes lock onto mine. “Romeo,” she whispers, but it’s not a denial.

That’s all the invitation I need. I lower my head, my lips brushing against hers. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though I’m waiting for her to push me away. When she doesn’t, when her lips part slightly and her breath mingles with mine, something inside me snaps.

I deepen the kiss, my other hand moving to her waist, pulling her closer. She doesn’t resist. Her hands press against my chest, not to push me away but to hold on, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.

The fire crackles in the background, but all I can feel is her—her warmth, her softness, the way her body fits against mine like it was made for this. Like it was made for me.

When I finally pull back, her eyes are wide, her lips swollen and flushed. She stares at me, her expression a mix of confusion, anger, and something else—something raw and unguarded.

“You don’t get to do this,” she says, her voice trembling. “You don’t get to make me feel like this.”

I smirk, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Feel like what?”

“Like I’m losing control,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” I murmur, my lips grazing hers again. “I lost control the moment I met you.”

I don’t give her a chance to argue. My lips find hers again, my hand tangling in her hair to hold her exactly where I want her.

She gasps against my mouth, and her hands slip up to grab onto my shoulders for balance.

Her gasp turns into a low moan as I deepen the kiss, my teeth grazing her bottom lip before I suck it into my mouth. The sound she makes sends a jolt of heat straight through me, and I press her back toward the sofa, guiding her until her legs hit the edge.

“You melt all my resolve when you kiss me,” she breathes when I pull back just enough to let her catch her breath. Her eyes are glassy, her lips swollen and glistening, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my mouth.

“You can’t seem to resist me,” I murmur, my voice low and rough as I trail kisses along her jawline. She shivers, her hands sliding up my chest to grip my shoulders. “Surely that means something.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, though her voice lacks any real bite. “Not without trust. Not without affection.”

“Prove that this isn’t trust,” I challenge, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. Her nails dig into my shoulders, and I chuckle softly, the sound vibrating against her neck.

I guide her down onto the sofa, my body pressing against hers as I straddle her hips.

Her hands slide up to my hair, tangling in it and pulling hard enough to make me growl low in my throat. The sound seems to spur her on, her hips shifting beneath me in a way that makes my restraint fray.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, bella ,” I murmur against her skin, my lips trailing down her neck as my hands slide to her waist.

“So are you,” she fires back, her breath hitching as I nip at her collarbone, my teeth grazing the delicate skin.

Her defiance only fuels me further. My hands slip under her sweater, my fingers brushing against the bare skin of her waist. She arches into my touch, her body reacting to me despite the arguments I know are still swirling in her head.

“Admit it,” I whisper against her throat, my lips brushing the rapid pulse there. “You want this. You want me.”

“Romeo—” Her protest dies on her lips as I press my hips against hers, letting her feel just how much I want her.

“Say it,” I demand, my voice a growl as I lift my head to meet her gaze. Her breath comes fast, her chest rising and falling beneath me, and I can see the war waging in her eyes.

“I want you,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I always do in spite of my common sense.”

“Yes, you do,” I breathe, my thumb brushing against her cheek. “I know you hate how much you want me.”

Her lips part, but no words come. Instead, she pulls me down, her mouth meeting mine in a kiss that’s all fire and frustration, every ounce of her anger pouring into it. It’s raw and consuming.

I match her intensity, my hands roaming her body as though I can’t touch her fast enough.

I tug her sweater up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head. She gasps as the cool air hits her skin, but I’m already kissing her again, my hands sliding up her sides, my thumbs brushing against the curve of her ribs.

Her hands are everywhere, tugging at my hair, clawing at my back, pulling me closer as though she can’t stand the space between us. My cock twitches, desperate to be freed, and her delicate hands reach for the fly of my pants.

I pull back just enough to look at her, my fingers trailing over her flushed skin. Her hair is tousled, her lips swollen, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She’s a vision, her defiance and vulnerability wrapped together in a way that makes my chest tighten.

She finds my zipper, and my hard cock pops free of its confines. Viviana gasps, and before I know it, she’s wriggling free of her own jeans, desperate hands fumbling to guide me into her.

Viviana is wonderfully tight, already so soaked just from the sight of me.

I sit on the couch and tug her into my lap.

She squeaks with surprise as I tumble her across my legs, but then her lips are on mine again as my cock presses against her wetness.

She tilts her head back and keens loudly as I slide inside of her, gasping my name as I rock all the way home.

I feel her walls stretch as I slip inside of her, and God, it’s enough to leave me gasping.

“You’re mine, Viviana,” I say quietly, my voice rough as I begin to thrust. “No matter how much you fight it.”

Her eyes flash with something I can’t quite name—anger, desire, maybe both. “You have to earn me,” she snaps, though her back arches as a little moan slips past her full, kiss-swollen lips.

“Oh, I do?” I murmur, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the hollow of her throat. “Then why are you letting me do this?”

She doesn’t answer, but her body arches into mine, her hands gripping my shoulders. Her silence is answer enough, and I smirk against her skin, my lips trailing lower as I take my time savoring every inch of her.

Her protests are gone now, replaced by soft gasps and whispered curses that spur me on. I thrust harder, arousal making my vision white, gasping against Viviana’s skin as I leave a trail of burning hickeys across her throat.

When I finally meet her gaze again, her eyes are glassy, her lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath.

“Tell me how to earn you, Vivianna,” I demand, reaching up to grip her slender throat.

She looks down at me, her eyelids heavy with lust, her lips swollen from my kisses.

“Prove to me that you can love me,” she whispers around the constricting grip of my hand. “Prove to me that you can feel any emotion other than the desire to control.”

Her words are like a knife to my heart. She’s asking me for the one thing I cannot give her.

Desperation fuels my movements as I grip her throat, pounding into her, feeling her shuddering and taking what I’m giving with effortless ease.

With one last thrust, Viviana moans. Her pussy tightens, and I can feel the orgasm shudder through her. It’s enough to bring me to the edge, too, and I clamp my teeth down on her shoulder, releasing her throat as I spill myself inside of her.

I come so hard I see stars, heat building and building until I snap. I finish deep inside of her, cock twitching as I fill Viviana with my come.

The fire crackles softly in the background, its warmth nothing compared to the heat radiating between us. My lips linger on her skin, my hand sliding to cradle the back of her neck, holding her in place as I kiss her deeply, thoroughly, apologetically.

She exhales softly, her cheek resting against my shoulder as my arms wrap around her, holding her close.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the tension between us softens, replaced by a quiet, fragile peace I don’t dare disturb.