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"Roman," I whisper, reaching out to shake him. Even though I'm on top of him, I can barely make him out in the dim light filtering in through the windows. With the shades drawn halfway, it's not much.
He wakes up immediately and reaches for me, sliding one hand down my back to my ass. I feel him growing hard inside me and if I wasn't so fucking scared, I'd laugh at the way he mumbles, "Fuck yeah, baby," like he thinks I'm waking him up for round two.
"There's someone in the house," I hiss when he squeezes my ass cheek.
He freezes as soon as the words are out of my mouth. One second, he's half asleep and feeling me up. The next, he's wide awake and completely still beneath me.
A muffled thud filters up from downstairs.
"What the fuck?" He sits up, dragging me up with him. His body is completely rigid with tension, which sends another wave of fear running through me. He fumbles for the bedside table, cursing under his breath.
I slide off his lap, pulling the blankets up over us like they're going to protect us from whoever is downstairs.
I hear the drawer on the table slide open, and then I hear Roman pull something out. Whatever it is knocks against the side of the drawer with a dull thud.
"Remember when you went shooting with me and Tahani a couple of years ago?" he asks me, his voice soft so it doesn't carry.
I nod and then realize he can't see me. "Yes," I whisper.
That day was the first and only time I ever shot a gun, but I didn't suck at it. Roman had been impressed by how well I did and asked if I'd ever shot before. I still remember the way he smiled at me like he was proud of me.
The screen on his phone suddenly comes on, lighting up a little bit more of the room. Just enough for me to notice the gun in his hands and the murderous look on his face as he holds it out toward me.
A tremor of fear runs through me at his expression.
"Roman–"
"Take it, Mila."
My hands shake as I take the gun from him. The weight of the weapon in my hands causes another tremor to run through me, freezing me from the inside out.
"It's loaded. If anyone comes through that door, you shoot as soon as you get a clear shot," he whispers, his voice deceptively soft. His phone lands in my lap. "Lock the door behind me and call 911."
Oh my God. He's going out there.
"Roman–"
He jerks me toward him before I can beg him not to leave me in here alone and kisses me hard. "You pull the fucking trigger as soon as they step inside this room, baby," he whispers.
He's really going out there.
I think I'm going to throw up or faint.
His lips touch mine again. "I love you, Mila."
Before I can say anything, he pulls away. Tears run down my face as he slips into the shadows of the room, disappearing like a ghost. He moves so silently that I can't even tell where he is until the bedroom door creaks open.
"I love you," I whisper, so fucking scared I'm shaking as another thud filters into the room. With the door open, it sounds closer than before. Way too fucking close.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, I jump out of bed and hurry to the door, flipping the lock. Once it's secure, I dive back into the bed, putting my back to the headboard. I've got his gun in one hand while I use the emergency button on his cell to dial 911.
I strain to hear anything from outside of the bedroom, but the only thing I can hear is my own panicked breathing and the phone ringing.
Please, please, I pray.
"911, what's the address of your emergency?" a female dispatcher asks on the second ring.
I whisper the address into the phone, trying not to sob. "Someone's in the house," I say after she repeats the address back to me. "My…" I don't even know what to call Roman. What's the word for someone who owns you, body and soul? I don't have one. "Roman Gregory is a cop…an ATF agent. He went downstairs." A hysterical sob bubbles up, but I fight it back. "He's alone, and there's someone in the house. We need help."
