An hour earlier, when Zoya disappeared into the house, all Roman could do was wait and rehearse what he'd say to her.

The wind picked up and scattered leaves from beneath the maple trees lining the street, creating a swirl of red. It wouldn't be long until the weather turned cold for good and he'd thought about lying in front of the fireplace with her curled against him. But what if she didn't want him anymore? Served him right. He'd put stupid rules in place, but they'd been for her protection.

He glanced at his watch, got out of his car, and ambled across the street. Shrubs hid the view of the stairway from the main house, and he settled on the second step. A catering van sat in the drive, so they must be having a party. There were no sounds of music, laughter or conversation but that didn't mean anything. It could be a small gathering. Shit. Zoya might even have a date. She was dressed for one.

He texted Flynn and Ophelia. Wanted them to know he'd found her and promised an update later. Then he turned off his phone so he wouldn't have any interruptions once he had her alone.

From across the way, a door closed. Footfalls. A cadence he recognized. He sucked air into his lungs as she rounded the corner, then eyed her from head to toe, trying to make her plain, back at the farmhouse in jeans, digging in the dirt, planting flowers. No luck. Not with the bottled blond hair, fashionable clothes, and dangling earrings. She wasn't Zoya Hart anymore, not as he knew her. She was Dove St. Clair. Beautiful. Sophisticated. Rich. And he wasn't good enough.

"Roman." Her hand flew to her chest. "What are you doing here?"

"You left without saying goodbye." His voice cracked.

Her breath hitched. "There wasn't time." Unsteady, she grabbed onto the railing.

Even in the dim light, he saw how pale she was and wanted to touch her. Feel the softness of her. Have her arch against him as he buried deep inside her. Whisper his name. Beg him for more. "Are you okay?"

"Champagne went to my head."

"You've been drinking?" He frowned, trying to align this girl with the one he knew in his head.

"A little. But I'm all right. Let's go inside."

He turned for her to pass, and the closeness made him dizzy. She pushed the door open and stepped in with him right behind. "You really shouldn't leave your place unlocked. Never know when an ex-con might show up on your doorstep."

She faced him. "Are you being sarcastic?"

"Yeah. You're getting good at recognizing that." He scanned the room, his eyes settling on the painting of a half-naked man. A young, handsome dude. Clean cut. Looked to be about her age. Roman leaned down and studied the guy's cuticles. Hell, he couldn't tell if they hugged his fingernails or not. He nodded toward the canvas. "Somebody important to you?"

"He mows the lawn."

"But you'd like him to be important?" Roman straightened his shoulders and prayed for the right answer. What if she didn't want him anymore? Or worse—didn't love him. She'd never said the words because he'd not allowed it. His stupid rules. But she'd told Mariana, and women told their best friends things they didn't share with anyone else, so it had to be true. But now?

"No." She turned away but not before Roman saw a tear roll down her cheek. He wanted to grab on to her and never let her go. Tell her what a jerk he'd been. How he'd finally come to his senses and realized he loved her. But not before he got everything off his chest.

She walked into the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink? All I have is water."

What he wanted most was to get her naked and fuck her into next week, but that wasn't a great opening line. He shoved his hands into his pockets and began. "It's my fault the PI found you, and I'm sorry. Curiosity got the best of me, but I should have waited until you were ready to tell me about yourself."

"It's okay. I don't blame you." She sounded like she meant it.

He rocked back on his heels. "Well, I do, and I'll never forgive myself for it."

She took a glass from the cabinet and filled it, gulped, wiped at her eyes, then faced him again, her gaze sweeping over him like it was the first time she saw him. Maybe it was. "You look terrible. What's wrong?"

He pulled his hands from his pockets and gave a slow shake of his head. "Everything."

Rushing to him, she took his face in her hands and gazed up at him. "I love you. I know you don't want me to and I've tried not to but I can't help it. I kept telling myself if I could make a whole day without thinking about you it would mean I was getting over you. But it's been 152 days, and it hasn't happened yet."

Damn. He'd been doing the same thing for a hell of a lot longer than that. He'd argued with himself about how wrong it was on so many levels. She had no business falling for him. An ex-con would never fit in with her rich friends. But the most important reason was the deal breaker. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Once you know me, you won't love me."

She searched his face. "But I do know you."

For a moment, he didn't say anything, but confession was supposed to be good for the soul, and God knew Roman's soul was in trouble. Like a man about to be hanged, the secret tightened around his throat. Other than Terrance, no one knew the truth.

"No, you don't. I—I murdered a man, Zoya. And it wasn't self-defense. I thought about it. Planned it. Watched him die. And even now, after all this time, the only regret I have is that I can't kill him again. I'm glad he's dead."

Her gaze didn't waver and there wasn't a hint of judgement in her eyes. "Is that what your nightmares are about?"

He rested his forehead against hers. "Yes."

"Was he the one who gave you the scar?"

The memory flashed through his mind as vivid as if it happened yesterday. Danny Pittman. Inmate #05132162. Roman had everything about the guy memorized. Every tattoo, scar, blemish. He'd never hated anyone the way he'd hated Danny. Not even Grimald for putting him in that hell hole to begin with. Roman swallowed hard. "Yeah."

She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. "Then I'm glad he's dead, too."

He'd opened up to her, and she'd not batted an eye. She was the one person who'd seen him at his worst and now knew his darkest secret, yet she loved him anyway. How could she overlook everything he'd done and still find good in him? The part that wanted to take care of her. Protect her. Love her. He pulled away and took her hands in his. "Marry me."

She stumbled backwards. "What?"

"Marry me."

"I heard the investigator, and I know you're trying to save me, but I only have a few more weeks, then I'll be home free."

His stomach jumped into his throat. Everything he'd denied for so long crashed down on him with an unbearable force bringing the truth with it. "I'm not trying to save you. Maybe I need you to save me."

"From who?"

"Myself."

There. He'd gotten it all out. Almost. "I'm a selfish prick because I know you'd be better off with someone else. But without you that old house has been more of a prison than Huntsville ever was. I'm suffocating, Zoya. I don't want to wake up another day knowing I can't see you. Touch you. Hear your fucking word-of-the-day. But being with me won't be easy. Everyone will use me against you. They'll say you're crazy to tie yourself to an ex-con. Claim I only want you for your money. You're going to be hurt, and it'll be my fault. But I love you so damn much. I know..."

She pressed her hand to his mouth. "Stop talking." Then she kissed him. Long.Hard. Hot. Lust ripped through him with as much force as the jagged knife Danny had used. Roman had been without her too long. She was still Zoya. Soft and warm and giving and his. Desperate to have her, be inside her, with her, he slid his hands to the button of her skirt, undid it and then the zipper. "Get rid of this."

She stepped back enough to let the garment pool at her ankles, kicked out of it, then grabbed the hem of her blouse and stripped it off. She wasn't wearing a bra and the sight of those perfect tits caused his cock to jump. God, it felt like years since he'd touched her, tasted her, held her, he wanted to do everything at once.

[MATURE THEMES AHEAD]

He slid his hands to her hips and nudged her until she bumped the counter. "Keep the shoes." Her breath caught, and he kissed her, licking into her hot, wet mouth. She shivered, and he spun her around, pulled her backside tight against him, and whispered in her ear. "Ease your panties down slowly." Damn, there was something about watching lace slide off her sweet ass that tore him up inside. His balls drew so high and tight, he thought they might pop out the top of his head.

Once she was naked, he turned her to face him again, dropped to his knees, and picked up her panties, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. "Wet."

Her breath came in heavy gasps. She widened her stance, threaded her fingers through his hair and urged him forward. "Please, Roman."

God, he loved it when she begged. He blew a hot breath across her center and raised to flick the belly button ring with his tongue. "I'm glad you kept this."

She pressed down on his shoulders.

He chuckled. Then kissed one inner thigh, then the other, palmed her hips with both hands, brought her to his mouth, and licked into her.

She whimpered the breathy sound he loved so much. The one that told him she liked what he was doing. God, he'd missed that. Dreamed about it. He paused and looked up at her. "Watch me."

She struggled for breath. "What?"

"Don't take your eyes off me until you come." Then he went back to work.

Zoya tried to pull air into her lungs, but only managed to half fill them. He loved her. Loved her. Maybe not at first, but now, he loved her, and that's all that mattered. She tried to pinpoint when things changed between them. When he'd started loving her, but couldn't concentrate on anything but the sound of his moans as he tasted her. And when he brought her leg over his shoulder to go deeper, she stopped watching because her eyes rolled back in their sockets. A second later, he withdrew and hit the right spot because he had her body memorized inside and out. She'd never understand how he did that.

She leaned her elbows on the counter and gripped the edge, because her legs had turned to rubber. Low in her stomach, it began to build and build and build. She braced for impact and came hard. As the orgasm gripped her, he didn't stop the torture. He gave her only a few seconds to recover, then sucked her into his mouth and a second wave of pleasure hit her with such force, every muscle in her body stiffened, while her bones turned to liquid.

Struggling for breath, he rested his forehead against her belly. "Oh God, Zoya. I've missed you so fucking much. I love you. Please don't ever leave me again. Not without talking to me first."

"I won't."

He rose and took her in his arms. Neither of them spoke, but he was hard and she needed to do something about that. Pulling away, she slipped her hand in his and led him to the bedroom. No need to turn on the light, the lights streaming through the windows from the courtyard provided enough.

When they reached the edge of the bed, she unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and let him take over. While he got rid of his clothes, she removed her shoes. She pushed him down on the mattress and stood between his legs. Now it was her turn to drop to her knees. She'd never done this before, but she'd thought about it.

He looked down at her and raised his brows. "Zoya?"

"I want you in my mouth."

He laughed and leaned back to rest on his elbows and grinned at her. "Have at it."

She closed her fingers around it, licked the tip like an ice cream cone, and he must have liked it because he growled. Then she swirled her tongue, and he moaned. She glanced up. He had his eyes fixed on her. She stopped. "Do you have to watch?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"I wish you wouldn't. It's my first time and I'm not going to be good at it, and it makes me uncomfortable."

He chuckled. A low rumble in his chest. She thought about calling it off, but his eyes were dark and dilated and set on her. Then he spoke. "Just so you know, there's no such thing as a bad blow job, unless you bite it off. But if you want, I won't look."

"Okay." She brought it to her lips and took more of it this time. He arched into her and she got her rhythm. Slow at first, then faster. A mixture of growls and moans and some other sound she'd never heard him make before came from deep inside him.

He fisted her hair gently, his nails lightly scratching at her scalp. "Stop, stop, Zoya or it'll be too late." He jerked her mouth free and lifted her to straddle him.

"I want to feel you." The timbre of his voice turned her insides to jelly. He placed his hands on her hips and she loved the roughness of them.

She lifted her head and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm and she squirmed to get closer to him.

Roman pulled her sideways onto his lap. She twined her arms around his neck, exploring his mouth with her tongue. He tasted of coffee. His hands moved over her body, lightly tickling her, making her skin tingle everywhere he touched. When his hands maneuvered her thighs sothat she was straddling him, she wiggled against him. When she rocked down against him a second time, he grasped her and flipped over, trapping her under him. He groaned above her; kissed his way down her neck and along her collarbone, his fingers trailing over the skin of her back.

Her legs instinctively wrapped around him, her hips arching up. The contrast between Roman's heat and the slight breeze filtering in through the windows was dizzying, and a rush of sensation ignited her down to her bones.

He kissed her again, differently this time; put everything he had into this kiss: desire, admiration, uncertainty, lust... love. She kissed back with equal fervor, and Roman felt himself teeter on the brink of a great chasm that was black and unknown.

"You're beautiful, Zoya," he murmured against her skin, pulling back to roam his eyes over her body.

"So are you," she said, utterly sincere.

He laughed softly. The sound resonated deep in his throat and then lowered his head to kiss her.

One of his hands ran down her chest, over her stomach, and down to the juncture between her thighs.

Zoya gave a small moan of approval into his mouth, willing his fingers to continue.

Roman's lips left hers and trailed down her neck and body. Every part of her body was hot now. The scent of her arousal mixed with the floral lotion she used on her legs was a heady combination. He traced circles along her inner thighs with his tongue until she began to squirm, lapped up her essence with his tongue, savoring the taste as Zoya quivered and moaned at his ministrations.

Her muscles started to tense.

Even her thigh muscles started to shake.

Her body went from heated to aflame, and her muscles tightened and released, sending currents of pleasure coursing through her. Roman's mouth remained, drawing out the pleasure. When her breathing evened out, he gently pushed himself back across the bed, settling in the cradle of her hips.

"Zoya." Her name fell from his lips as both a groan and a hiss of pleasure.

One of his hands was wrapped in her hair, the other dipped to the curve of her back. She mouthed at the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, felt his muscles shift as he moved. Seconds later his arm snaked over her back and through her legs. She gasped in surprise and rocked into him.

She clung to his shoulders, and then he leaned back and lifted her hips, wrapping her legs around his hips. He thrust in, and she cried out.

"You alright?" Roman murmured.

"Mmm," she whimpered, no longer capable of speech. With each movement, he was hitting a spot that ignited sensations she didn't know she was capable of.

As he increased speed, she stopped thinking entirely, frantically kissing him everywhere she could reach - his neck, his chin, his ear. Her hands slid over his back, tracing her fingers over the play of his muscles. "I wanna," she panted, "be on top."

He smiled indulgently, gripping her to him to roll them over, taking a moment to rearrange her legs. Zoya moved tentatively, trying to recapture the rhythm. He was beginning to feel quivery; had trouble keeping them moving together. Above him, Zoya felt her muscles tense and release.

She shivered in pleasure, and then Roman's hands moved to her hips.

"Lean forward."

She leaned forward and Roman thrust in earnest, the muscles in his arms tensing beneath her fingers.

He cried out, his eyes closed, and Zoya watched his face change, feeling powerful and tender at the same time as she collapsed on his chest.

He was breathing hard, and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. When he pulled out, Zoya grabbed at him, feeling a sense of loss, wanting to keep him there with her.

Something warm and wet was dripped between her legs. Roman pulled a towel off the nightstand and tenderly wiped her clean. In that moment, she would have done anything for him. He reached over and drew her to his side, nestled her into the crook of his arm.

[MATURE THEMES OVER]

"You alright?" He trailed his fingers up and down her spine, raising goosebumps.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"The blowjob."

"I liked it."

He chuckled. "Good to know."

She tried to roll off him, but he held her in place. "No, don't do that. I need to stay inside you as long as I can."

She rested her head on his chest listening to his heart and loving the way his fingers felt against her back.She drew a sharp breath. "With practice, I'll get better at fellatio."

He laughed so hard the bed bounced. "Damn, Zoya. I never know what's going to come out of that sexy mouth of yours."

She raised to look at him. "You think my mouth is sexy?"

"Baby, I think everything about you is sexy. Kiss, touch—all perfect because you're perfect." He brought her hand to his lips. "You're the best thing in my life. All I want. All I think about. You never gave me an answer, but you'll marry me, right?"

"Are you crazy? Yes, I'll marry you."

"You got ID with your real name? To be legal, I've got to marry Dove St. Clair."

"I haven't used that name in so long, it sounds funny."

"You can keep it, you know."

"I don't understand."

"St. Clair connects you to your company, so if you don't want to take my name, I'll understand."

She ran her fingers across his lips. "I want your name. I'm also changing my name to Zoya." She paused momentarily. "Do you have a dollar?"

"In my wallet. Why?"

She jumped out of bed, retrieved the billfold from his pants and handed it to him. "Give me one."

He pulled his brows together, but slid the money out and offered it.

She took it and folded it neatly, then placed it on her side table. "Now, it's St. Clair-DeRoux Steel."

Badabing. How d'ya like them apples? I'm so sad this story is over. We'll be finished in a couple weeks.

TEASER: "If you found me, then Marion can, too."