Page 57 of Unstable

He and Irina had experienced the absolute worst of each other at the beginning of their relationship—now they were experiencing the best. He wanted more of her than she’d ever given anyone else, and he would endeavor to make each day better than the last.

He couldn’t see her in the dark, but he could feel her gaze on his. He moved his hand to her chin, making sure she was paying attention to every word when he spoke. “I meant what I said.”

Twin lines of confusion appeared in the space between her brows, but she didn’t voice her curiosity. He traced her lower lip with his thumb. “You’re mine, Irina. And I’m yours.”

She tucked her nose into the crook of his neck, curling into him as she started to drift off. He knew she was tired, but he wasn’t done with her yet. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he tipped her head up and stared down at her pretty face. Her eyes popped open, and she stared at him in silent question.

“This—” He gave a gentle tug to her hair. He wanted to make sure she understood. “This is serious, you and me.”

She gave a little nod, but he knew she wasn’t quite certain what he was saying. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure, either. He just knew he needed to get the words out, because he would regret it if he didn’t.

“It’s gonna be hard when we get home, but I don’t care.” He felt her fingers curl into the flesh of his back as he continued. “You occupy my every thought, every moment of every day. I want to be with you—I want to make this work.”

She blinked rapidly, and he couldn’t tell if the faint sheen there was from the moonlight or tears. “Me, too.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Good.”

Releasing his hold on her hair, he kissed her once, long and slow, praying she could feel every emotion he couldn’t yet put into words. A long moment later, he broke the connection and tucked her head against his shoulder. “Sleep.”

She nestled in close, and he could feel the heat of her breath on his neck as she gradually drifted off. He wasn’t sure how they’d make it work, but he would make certain it did. Because he wanted her right there—just like that—every night. He was starting to believe that an eternity wouldn’t be enough.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

Irina was aware of the bright sunlight streaming through the doors before she even opened her eyes, and she snuggled deeper into the welcoming heat surrounding her. Memory came flooding back as a feathery soft sensation moved slowly up and down her arm, and her eyes flew open.

“Hey.”

His voice was raspy and soft, and she lifted her gaze slowly to his. “Hey.”

The fingers making circles on her arm slid upward to her cheek. “Sleep okay?”

She nodded but didn’t speak.

“Good.”

She watched him as his fingers gently swept over her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, over her chin. She closed her eyes to the sensation as he touched every inch of her, tracing her features like he was committing every dip and curve to memory. She mentally did the same. She would remember the feel of him, the way he looked, his masculine scent, until the day she died.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Her eyelids popped open and, self-consciously, she brought her arm up over her chest, shimmying backward to put some distance between them.

Roman watched her curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, but his hand shot out, wrapping around her waist, and she let out a gasp as he tugged her toward him.

“Don’t lie to me.” His gaze dropped to her breasts for a moment, then back up to her eyes. “What happened there?”

His eyebrow ratcheted upward, and she let out a sigh. “I just… I don’t like my breasts.”

“Why?”

There was no judgment in his tone, only curiosity, but it didn’t stop the heat of mortification from creeping into her cheeks. “They’re too big.”

He studied her. “You don’t want them anymore?”

She let out a mirthless laugh. “I never wanted them in the first place.”