Enraptured (23 page)

It was working. Her parents had stopped acting so concerned for her, stopped asking her to come home with them. They were excited about her new major at NYU. They visited the campus, and sat in Battery Park with her and fed the pigeons. They visited Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty.

But the space he’d asked for extended to her staying in the guest room across the hall from his master suite while her parents were visiting, for propriety’s sake, or so he said.

Oh, Roman.

She missed his touch, his body next to hers. She missed his discipline. And her neck felt so naked without her collar, even though he’d said that he still considered her to be his collared slave, whether she wore it or not. They couldn’t let her parents see it, after all.

She missed their sessions in his basement dungeon, the times when they connected on a level that was stronger and more intense than any relationship she’d ever had.

And she still loved him, even if he couldn’t love her back.

When the week ended, Roman had allayed all of her parents’ concerns with his hospitality. They had dinner with Trevor, Elisabeth, Marc, and Lauren and laughed at some of the stories Trevor shared about their college days at Yale.

They never noticed the mosaic of the whip at the bottom of the pool. And she never slipped and called him “sir” in front of them again.

But when she got him alone, in private, she kissed him with all of her love, all of her longing, and prayed he’d want to keep her forever.

By the time she dropped her parents back off at the airport to go home, she had no idea if she even had a relationship to go back to at Roman’s house.

“C
ome to me,” Roman said that night, when she’d returned from the airport. He stood by his desk in his office.

Jessica rushed to him and knelt.

He attached her leather collar around her neck and locked in place. She nearly wept with relief.

“Thank you, sir. I’ve been naked without it.”

“I missed seeing it on you. And I missed having you in our bed.”

She looked up and smiled tentatively.
Our bed.
He called it “our bed.” Thank God.

Roman picked her up, cradling her in his arms, and carried her to his—their—bedroom. He was so strong, and she rested her head against his muscular chest, listening to the beat of his heart. His guarded, wounded heart.

When he laid her down, he didn’t bind her, or restrain her in any way. With a passion she’d been holding in all week, she tore at his clothing, desperate to get to him, to feel his skin against hers.

Roman hovered over her, kissing her breasts, gently touching her nipple piercings.

“These are healing nicely,” he said. “You’re so beautiful.”

She responded with a kiss, wrapping her legs around his, urging him to enter her with her hips.

“Oh, Jessica,” he sighed, and sunk himself deep inside of her, sliding up to rub her clit with his length before plunging into her once more.

It was unusual for her to have free rein to touch him wherever she wanted, and she made good use of her freedom. She wanted to taste every part of him, kiss him, touch him, stroke him everywhere.

They made love that night, and when she climaxed, her entire body trembled beneath his, and she cried out his name into the darkness.

“I love you, Jessica,” he whispered, and she stilled.

“Sir?” She could barely breathe. Was it real? Did she imagine it?

“I love you so much. I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. I was scared. I’m still scared.”

“I love you too, Roman. Sir, I love you so much.”

He collapsed on top of her, his weight covering her like a blanket, and gently rolled her to the side. They lay in the dark with the moonlight coming through the window, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Tell me what you’re afraid of,” she whispered.

“I’m afraid that there’s something wrong with me, to be so frightened of loving you, when you give your love to me so freely. What if I don’t deserve a girl as good as you?”

“That’s nothing to be afraid of, sir. You were hurt before and now you’re healing . . . you’re healed. The heart is a resilient thing.”

He kissed the top her head, speaking against it. “There’s something else.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I’m afraid that this will end.”

“It doesn’t have to end. I don’t . . . I don’t ever want it to end.”

“Will you marry me, Jessica? Will you be my wife, forever?”

“I will be your anything forever.”

His body relaxed, as if he’d been holding his breath and had finally released it.

“My anything,” he repeated, the words seeming to lift the fear off of his face, and out of his soul.

“Your lover, your slave, and yes, your wife.” She sat up and looked down into his eyes, trying to see if she was dreaming, or if this was actually happening. “And I know you probably have some other concerns, about . . . money. I’ll gladly sign a prenuptial agreement if it will allay your fears.”

“No, no prenup,” he said. “If I thought we’d need a prenup I wouldn’t ask you to marry me. I intend for this marriage to stick. Everything I have, everything I own, or ever will, it’s all yours, Jessica.”

“And I am yours, sir.”

Roman hugged her tightly, and when he pulled back, a lock of his hair in his eyes, he looked at her as if she’d just offered him the universe.

“Why me?” he asked. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I ask myself that too,” she giggled, so overwhelmed by the moment that she couldn’t help but to laugh.

“You’ve changed my life,” he said, the smile lighting up his handsome face. “You brought the sunlight in.”

Acknowledgments

W
hen I found out that Kate Dresser, my awesome editor for the first two books in the Enslaved trilogy, was leaving midseries, all of my worries were allayed by the wonderfully talented Adam Wilson and Julia Fincher, who seamlessly helped bring the Enslaved trilogy to its conclusion. Thank you to them for being amazing, to everyone at Simon & Schuster/Gallery Books/Pocket Star, and the entire team that worked on this book and the series, and to my agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan of Sanford J. Greenburger Associates.

Thank you to my critique partners, beta readers, my loyal readers, Twitter and Facebook followers, and the members of the Shoshanna Street Team. You guys get the word out about my books and I love you for it! Please visit www.ShoshannaEvers.com to find out more.

Thank you to my family and friends for putting up with my intense writing schedule. I promise to get out of the house, someday. Maybe not. I do kinda like my writing cave.

For my DH, I love you forever. And ever. And ever.

Order Books One and Two Today!

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Shoshanna Evers

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