Modern Romance June 2016 Books 5-8. Tara Pammi
she walked towards him. ‘No sex before a match...’
‘Sergio had no idea,’ Anya said. ‘Anyway, I’m not a boxer.’
She bent her head and kissed his sulky mouth as she had wanted to back then.
And he stroked her breasts.
His kiss felt like a delicious reward, and all the promise of his mouth and the skill of his tongue and cares and worries faded.
She stroked him, unzipped him and he kicked his jeans off. Their mouths barely parted.
As she knelt over him his mouth took her breast and sent little volts of pleasure through her body. Her breast felt hot, tender, and he roused in her an endless ache.
‘No bruises,’ she warned.
He knew now.
‘Turn over,’ she said, and though her voice was husky with lust there was something she had to do.
And she did.
She looked at his back and now he liked the soft kisses she rained there. He thought of that time and the sand, like salt in wounds, and now they were bathed by the salt of her tears. He thought of that long, lonely night she had been by his side, even if not physically.
He liked too the heat of her sex in the small of his back yet he rolled them over because he wanted more.
There was no better feeling than being taken by Roman and she could feel the warmth spread through her, a deep, enduring warmth that was always waiting for him.
She looked at him and the surroundings did not matter when she was with him.
They could have been anywhere—teenagers in a shabby room with a silver-grey sky streaming through a small window, or in this luxurious apartment—but the feelings were, and had always been, the same.
She centred on him, and when he moved it was slowly and with a precision only Roman could achieve.
He knew her needs, and her need was him.
She moved her hands over his back to feel the skin and the muscles that were taut beneath her fingers.
When her head arched he kissed her neck and found a spot so tender that her hips rose.
And he simply knew.
There was the sound of them and the feeling of him and it was a place where Anya could voice doubt.
‘If you leave me again, never come back.’
‘I’m never leaving you.’
And then his pace quickened, and that powerful body at full thrust was dizzying.
His buttocks were firm and she dug her fingers in and held on, not to him but to herself because her thighs were shaking and there was a rush of heat.
Every part of her was taut and on the edge and then he stilled, and she watched his jaw grit and then as he came she toppled beneath him. An orgasm so intense that there was no breath in her body. The power that shot into her seemed to stun her and then the weight of him for a moment, as their bodies pulsed as one.
‘Why do you say I’ll leave you?’
‘Because you did.’
Because you still might.
Still he had not told her he loved her.
The jigsaw of them was complete, the jigsaw of Roman was she thought, too.
She wanted to tell him that there could never be babies but she did not want to spoil the night and she looked at him.
‘There’s something I have to tell you, and I am scared you will be cross.’
‘Don’t be scared.’ He guessed that she was talking about Mika.
‘I don’t want to tell you tonight. I’m tired, and I’m worried about tomorrow.’
‘Then sleep,’ he said. ‘It will keep.’
And she lay in his arms and told him a truth.
‘Life’s harder without you in it, Roman.’
He didn’t believe it, she knew.
‘You need to tell Daniil what you told me.’
‘I shall.’
‘Now.’
‘It’s midnight.’
‘Do you think he would care about that?’
‘No.’
‘Then call him.’
Roman did.
His voice was soothing and sad too, and she lay listening to this proud man explain to his twin all he just had told her.
And she fell asleep thinking of Firebird and hoping that tomorrow she could dance for him.
‘BONJOUR, MADEMOISELLE.’
Josie was back in the kitchen as Anya passed by, but this time from the direction of Roman’s room.
It had been bliss to wake in his bed, even if Roman hadn’t been in it.
‘Bonjour, Josie,’ Anya called, and then remembered that Josie’s granddaughter had been sick and, in terrible French, enquired about her.
She was doing much better, as far as Anya could make out.
‘Bon!’ Anya smiled.
She headed to the balcony and Roman put his paper down. Neither had to enquire how the other had slept.
It had been bliss.
She poured a hot chocolate and ate some berries.
‘The cast list goes up at ten,’ Anya said.
‘You’ll be on it.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
The nerves were starting to come back, though that was to be expected given that tonight was opening night.
‘Do you want—?’ Roman started, but his question was interrupted by a loud scream from Josie and he jumped up and moved quickly to see what the problem was.
And then Anya saw Roman smile as a hysterical Josie spoke to him excitedly.
He turned and explained the problem to a bemused Anya. ‘Josie had seen me on the balcony and then opened the elevator...’
Daniil was walking in, with Libby beside him, holding little Nadia and laughing.
‘Roman mustn’t have mentioned that he had an identical twin,’ Libby said. ‘The doorman opened the elevator and we came straight up.’
‘I had the same thing happen at your place,’ Roman said, but Libby’s eyes had drifted to Anya, who sat in her robe and had obviously come from Roman’s bed.
‘Caught!’ Anya said.
‘We’d already guessed!’ Libby grinned. ‘Anya, we just had to come and see Roman after he called last night, and—I’m going to be terribly rude—is there any chance...?’
‘You want tickets for tonight?’ Anya smiled. ‘Of course. Sev and Naomi are flying in too and I have left tickets for Rachel at the box office. We should call Nikolai...’
‘He’ll be on his yacht in the middle of nowhere,’ Daniil said.
Roman wasn’t so sure. He looked at his brother, who had come all these miles just to speak with him face to face.
‘I understand now,’ Daniil said, and they embraced. ‘I’m sorry,’ Daniil admitted, ashamed at insisting that Roman speak in English.
‘No