Page 255 of Hate to Love You

I want to have a family with her.

Fuck, I want it all.

And I am going to have it, even if it kills me.

…Or even if she does.

Chapter Forty

ABBY

My eyes open slowly, the room dark and quiet.

Behind me, Roman’s body heats mine, and I snuggle further into him. I lay there for a moment, just basking in the heat of him before slowly turning to face him. The morning sun slowly casts a light glow from behind the curtains, highlighting his features.

My breath hitches in my throat as my eyes devour the sight in front of me.

Watching Roman sleep is something I could get used to. He’s so attractive that it should be illegal. But, looking at him right now, I realize he isn’t just attractive.

He’s beautiful.

His features, which are usually chiseled hard lines and jagged edges, are smooth, his face the picture of peace that rarely encompasses him. They are softer, and more pronounced like this. His long lashes flutter against his cheek as his eyes flick under his lids. A light dusting of stubble coats his cheeks. With each soft, even breath, his chest rises and falls ever so slightly.

It occurs to me that seeing Roman like this is something most people will never see. Not because he doesn’t sleep, but because he would never allow anyone to see him sleeping.

Yet here he is, next to me, my vulnerable king.

Leaning up on my elbow, I gently run my fingers over his skin, admiring the intricate tattoos that paint his chest, each line leading into another, canvassing his body.

I pause as he moves, his arm lifting to cover his eyes. Biting my lip, I trail my fingers lightly over the veins in his arms.

His demons demand to be worshiped, and seeing him like this, I fully understand why women throw themselves at his feet, ready to be used and completely destroyed. A man like this could never be a soft, slow lover, everything about him screams violence and bloodshed.

He goes to war on your body, and you welcome it.

He goes to war on your soul, and you let him.

I unintentionally went to war on his family, and he embraced it, completely rewriting our outcome.

For all I know, the end game could still be death. And that shouldn’t turn me on.

But it does.

Slowly, I peel away the thin blanket that he’s wrapped himself in, exposing more of his chest and stomach.

He tenses in response, my eyes flick to his face. I watching his fist clench slightly before he relaxes once more, I continue, exposing his body to me as he sleeps.

His legs widen, leaving a gap in the middle of the bed. As carefully as I can, I rise up on my knees, lifting one leg, then the other to kneel between his thighs.

His cock rests against his stomach, lengthening as my eyes take it in. Gently, I run my fingers up his leg, before grasping it in my hand.

He twitches, a low moan escaping him. Staying still, I stare up at him, waiting for him to wake.

When he doesn’t, I pump my fist, feeling him harden in response.

Lightly, I press soft kisses to his hips, before pressing my lips gently to his head, and watch as precum beads on the tip, his need lighting me on fire. My heart thunders in my chest, I really should stop, but the thrill of having this man keeps me going.

Parting my lips, I take the head of his cock in my mouth, pausing when his body tenses and then twitches as he moves his hips slightly, pushing himself further inside.