Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“You have a family,” Luke said, blinking. “A normal family with annoying little sisters and wedding rehearsals.”
Roman walked toward him, loosening his tie. “I know, shocking, isn’t it?” He gave a wry smile. “Sometimes villains have mothers and siblings, too. Not all of us are tragic orphans with abused childhoods.”
Luke chuckled, although he was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept of Roman having a family. “I guess I just never imagined you as an overprotective older brother.”
Roman’s lips twitched again. “Don’t start thinking I’m a good person, love.” He put his hands on Luke’s hips, looking down at him with a guarded expression. “I protect myself and mine. Simple as that.”
Luke nodded. That made sense. “Your sister said she’s also known as Anastasia Lugova. Does the rest of your family use that surname as well? Do they know what you do?”
“Of course they know what I do. Some of it.” Roman clearly didn’t want to talk about it, his face closing off and his eyes turning colder.
Luke fidgeted, trying to ignore the insane urge to put Roman in a better mood and please him. Shit. Was that how Stockholm syndrome started?
“Some of it?” Luke said, lifting his hands to take Roman’s tie off.
Roman let him, a strange expression flickering through his face. “You ask too many questions.”
“You answer only a small portion of my questions, so I figure the more questions I ask, the bigger the chance to get at least some answers.” Luke shrugged with a smile. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?”
Roman’s gaze moved to his cheek—to where Luke knew his dimple was. Roman stared at it for a moment before he leaned in and kissed it.
He kissed it.
Luke went still, wide-eyed and breathless, the tie slipping from his hand to the floor.
Roman stiffened. He pulled back and turned away, looking faintly displeased, and made a step toward the door.
“Are you leaving already?” Luke blurted out. Immediately he cringed, appalled and embarrassed by his silly, inappropriate clinginess. Fuck. This was worse than he had thought. This couldn’t continue. He must escape, as soon as possible—before this thing could become worse.
“Already?” Roman turned back to him, his eyebrows raised slightly, the look on his face coldly speculative. He was clean-shaven that day. It made him look younger than usual. He should have looked more approachable, but it had the opposite effect. This clean-shaven man in an impeccably tailored designer suit reminded him of the cold-eyed stranger that had unnerved Luke so much during their first meeting at the restaurant. Luke had gotten used to the scruffy Roman, not this one. This one made him uneasy.
And okay, he sort of really, really liked the beard.
“Do you want me to stay?” Roman said, his face impossible to read.
Luke crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the other man. Was this all just a game for him? Everything was so calculated with Roman. Sometimes Luke felt like he was just a piece on a chess board, to move where Roman needed and to be knocked off once he had outlived his usefulness. He’d never felt so out of his depth in his life.
God, he was so sick of it.
He wanted some control. He wanted Roman to lose control for a change.
Luke took the hem of his oversized t-shirt and pulled it off in one motion. He was naked underneath it, of course. Roman didn’t seem to believe in giving him more clothes than necessary.
Roman’s blue eyes swept over him. Luke stood tall, refusing to be embarrassed under his scrutiny. If there was anything he was certain about, it was that Roman wanted his body. One could fake emotions, one could lie about one’s thoughts, but lust wasn’t something a man could fake. Roman wanted him—wanted him badly enough not to care about his gender.
“Does this mean you want me to stay?” Roman said, sounding amused, the bastard.
Luke shrugged and sprawled out on the bed. “I’d rather you leave,” he said softly, running a hand over his own chest and sighing as it brushed his nipples. “You don’t know how to take care of me, anyway.”
Silence.
Luke smiled, looking at the ceiling.
“That isn’t the impression I get when you beg for my cock,” Roman said in a clipped tone.
“Anyone can stick a dick in a hole,” Luke said, grinning. “I love being fucked, and any hard, thick cock does it for me. But you can’t take care of me properly.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Roman sounded downright irritated now. Good.
Luke looked him in the eye. “I love being eaten out,” he murmured. “I love when men stick their tongues in my hole and let me ride their faces.”
Something flared in Roman’s eyes. Something dark and formless. Was it anger? Was it disgust? Was it too much for a straight man? For a straight man, Roman was a very generous lover, not squeamish about touching Luke’s cock with his hands or even with his mouth. But it seemed he drew a line at rimming another man. Not that it was entirely unexpected: many gay men didn’t like eating ass, either. Too bad. There were few things Luke loved more.