Page 23 of Only for Him (Starkov Bratva #1)
GISELLE
“Did you find them, Detective?” Arata’s keys jangle like my guilt. His voice is jarringly normal compared to Roman’s dark rumble.
It snaps me back to reality: I had been half-naked in an NYPD evidence locker with my stalker. And it ended with him making me lick his cum clean from my fingers.
Not all of it though.
Some of it is smeared across one of the buttons on the shirt I’m desperately tugging back into place. My hands still smell like him. I think they will for a while.
Maybe forever.
I don’t care. I’m high on the fact that I fucking won.
Maybe not the war, but at least this single battle. My blood is humming. Endorphins buzz at my temples, and I feel triumphant but fatigued from the ferocity of my orgasm.
And he told me his name.
Roman… I run my lips over it, testing and tasting it against my tongue. It’s strong. Determined. Relentless.
It suits him.
“Yeah, took me a while, but I found them.” Even my voice limps, hoarse from choking down moans. The taste of his blood when I bit his palm still lingers.
And the memory of that kiss…
I’m not walking away from this unchanged. I know that now.
But I’m going to return the favor.
Arata looks at me as he appears by the shelves. “Are you alright?”
Am I alright? Thunder rolls between my legs. Roman’s touch is everywhere—slick on my panties, salt on my tongue, copper in my mouth, and an ache in my hand from fitting around his cock.
And what a cock it was.
My pussy quivers at the thought of how it might feel to have it inside of me.
I give Arata a weak smile. “Had an energy drink this morning. Not used to the jitters.”
“Oh yeah, that’ll do it.” Arata nods.
His penchant for caffeine might distract him. Maybe he wants to compare brands. Anything to keep his attention from my flushed throat and skewed collar and the single blouse button glistening just a hair too bright. Don’t look there, please don’t ? —
He exhales, and buys the lie. “Well, I’m glad you found them. You were in here for a while and I got worried.”
“I wanted to spend some time with them.” I lie.
I wanted to spend some time with him , my mind confesses as my heart drums Roman-Roman-Roman with every beat.
“Understandable. Will that be all?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good. We can head out when you’re ready.”
Now I can pretend that none of that just happened. That I wasn’t just in here with Roman. That I was alone even when there’s a whole man taking up space in my head.
Roman.
Arata looks up at the shelves and jots down something on his clipboard. I don’t care what he writes, as long as it’s not “Detective Cantiano and her stalker trading fluids between aisles D & E”
I snag a tiny glass evidence vial from a nearby cart as I follow Arata to the door. Quickly and discreetly, I pop the cap, scrape drying cum from my blouse button, and drop it into the vial.
Pearlescent streaks spiral inside like frosting.
Roman’s DNA.
Roman’s name.
Roman’s prints on Serena’s earrings.
A holy trinity of both evidence and power.
I snap the tube closed, and close my fingers around it. The glass bites cold against my overheated skin.
Why does victory taste like salt and sex?
Why am I already grieving the next time he touches me and walks away?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I wrench my focus back to the task at hand. Detective , remember?
One lab slip, one upload, and Roman becomes a file folder.
But first, I still want more. More of the answers only he can give me. More of his hands. More of the dark lust he awakens in me.
I might mourn the version of myself that only felt repulsed by what was happening, but right now? I’m hovering over my body, deliciously satisfied and turned on by my own cravings.
I’m going to let myself live in this space as long as I can.
“Arata,” I call out.
“Yes?” He turns around quickly.
I hand him the vial containing Roman’s cum. “I found this in the MacDougal evidence box. It wasn’t labeled.”
“Oh.” He reaches out with his hand to accept. “That’s odd, but not entirely unheard of. One of the techs must’ve forgotten to label it. I’ll take that for you.”
“Thanks.” I tell him.
But when the time comes to let the vial go, I suddenly can’t. I don’t know why I feel it the way that I do, but this feels wrong.
Like betrayal. Like I’m about to hurt someone who I shouldn’t hurt.
But when I feel Serena’s earrings in my back pocket—an ice-cold reminders of why I do the thing that I do—I know that what I’m about to do must be the right thing.
Justice, Giselle. Not thrills. He’s still a murderer, even if the people he kills are monsters.
He can’t be judge, jury, and executioner.
And no man is above the law.
I repeat them until the words almost sound true. Until I can almost believe that I’m not about to make what feels like the biggest mistake of my life.
“Detective?” Arata asks, and I realize that I’m still holding the vial.
“Sorry.” I shake my head, blinking rapidly. “Just lost my train of thought for a moment.”
I drop the vial into Arata’s hand.
Sooner or later, Roman will walk into a cell, and I’ll be the one who locks the door.
And when it happens, will my pulse still drums his name?
I hope so.
I’ve survived harder losses. I’ll survive him.
And not for nothing else, I at least got a taste of him.
Just enough to slake my curiosity.
And maybe that’ll be enough.
Even if I’m dying to know what it feels like to be completely his.