Born to be Bad (International Bad Boys Book 3) by Carol Marinelli Page A

didn’t you hit Clifford?” Milly asked. “You saw what he did to me yet you didn’t hit him. Nor Ava, no . . . after all she did you didn’t lost it that night.”
    “ Zatknis ! That means shut up.”
    He climbed off and went out to the lounge and picked up the bottle opener and flicked out the small knife.
    “What are you doing?” Milly asked, but it was said with such curiosity that Roman actually smiled.
    “You’re not supposed to ask.”
    “Oh.”
    She felt the cool of metal as he sliced off her panties, and Milly swallowed, feeling the scorch of his gaze as he stood over her. He sliced open her bra and she lay naked now, but nowhere near pleading for mercy.
    “I want to forget you,” Roman admitted.
    “Then take me and then do.”
    He breathed in through his nostrils—he could never forget her.
    “Fuck me, Roman, if that’s what you want . . . ” It was the first and last time she swore.
    He put a hand over her mouth, yet she tongued his palm.
    Did it come to this? He looked down at Milly who lay there just so unafraid of him.
    And then he looked at Milly again and he took in the changes. The darkened areolas when they had been the palest of pink. Roman knew her body well; after all, he saw it each night in dreams. He took in the slight thickening of her waist, and all the changes he’d searched for, but hadn’t been there with Ava.
    “Why are you here?” Roman said and Milly frowned because there was a husk to his voice. “I want the truth now.”
    “Because I wanted to be with you one more time.”
    “And then?”
    “And then we’re done,” Milly said and he knew then she hadn’t been going to tell him about the baby. She wasn’t out to trap him, if anything she was doing her best to set him free. “So do what you’re going to do, Roman. But for the record, I’m not scared of you, I never have been nor shall I ever be. If anything I’m more turned on than I’ve been in my life.”
    “I could do anything.”
    “Then do,” Milly said.
    Trust, Roman thought. Clearly she did. She trusted that he would not hurt her.
    If he ever he doubted there was love, he must remind himself of this, Roman thought as he looked down at her.
    She lay there, completely accepting of him, being brave for him, prepared to walk away from him for the sake of their child and if that wasn’t love, then what was?
    Roman climbed off and took a seat by the bed, his head in his hands and he had never cried except tears were coming now. Silent ones that came from the depth of his soul and he swallowed then down for he would never let her see them.
    “What are you doing, Roman?” Milly asked, because he had gone silent.
    “Keeping you in suspense,” Roman said.
    She heard him swallow and the shudder of his breathing and Milly lay there, a touch nervous now, because she really didn’t know what was happening, she just felt the shift in the room.
    She heard him come to the bed and felt the indent of the mattress as he climbed on.
    “Roman . . . ”
    “Quiet,” Roman said and came over her, his knees were either side of her chest and he lifted her head and placed a pillow under it and he saw the nervous lick of her lips.
    “Open your mouth.”
    Milly took a breath.
    “Open.”
    She did, she felt his hands go to the side of her head and she reminded herself that she had chosen to be here.
    She could be his whore, Milly told herself and parted her jaw further.
    She was prepared for everything and anything except for the one thing he did—and it was by far the cruelest thing Roman had ever done.
    She felt the unexpected placing of his lips on hers and she wanted to tear her mouth away as she realised it was his kiss, but his hands held her head so there was no choice but to receive it.
    Anything, anything but that, Milly thought, tears sliding from her eyes.
    She could taste the salt of tears and she thought they must have trickled from under the tie.
    “Please don’t.” Milly begged to his mouth,