bound; governed by fate or extremely likely to occur.
"Face it, Marco. You and I are bound to one another. Even after all this time, even despite the consequences of our love, you can't keep yourself away from me-and neither can I."
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B I L L I E | E I L I S H - My Boy "If you want me to be yours, then you've gotta be mine, And if you want a good girl, then goodbye."
—
Romessa never got nervous—or so she thought. But as she sat on her bed and watched Marco stand near her window in order to light a cigarette, she found herself questioning her aforementioned beliefs. He'd removed the black jacket of his well-fitted suit and rolled up the sleeves of the fancy white shirt he'd worn underneath it, causing him to look ridiculously handsome as he exposed his tattooed forearms. The cigarette he was smoking had previously been sitting in the back pocket of his tailored slacks, waiting to be lit—Romessa knew he was saving it for a moment when he'd need it. Now was that moment.
They'd arrived to her apartment ten minutes ago, both attempting to seem more composed than the other, trying not to give way to their carnal urges. But it'd been two entire years since they'd felt one another, and as Romessa gazed lustfully at the German in her bedroom, that fact made itself more evident than ever. Romessa had always seen past Marco's good looks—it wasn't his physical appearance which drew her to him. It was his demeanor and his personality; his way of exuding confidence and nonchalance even in moments of crisis. Romessa bit her lip as Marco's eyes met hers, then drew in a breath. Is this a moment of crisis?
Marco's eyes found hers from across the room, where he'd chosen to light his cigarette so that he could blow the smoke out of the window. She wondered if he was thinking about all the bad decisions they were about to make—she knew she was. "You can come closer, you know." A sly smile found her lips as she broke their silence, holding her second glass of wine in hand. "I won't bite."
Marco smirked as he neared her, still taking sophisticated drags from his cigarette, puffing the smoke out through a tight O formed with his lips. "How can I be so sure?"
Romessa sat on the edge of her bed, still wearing her striking white evening dress. With her sitting and Marco standing, her lips were mere inches away from the belt of his pants. Marco used the fingers on his free hand to tilt her head up towards his, his eyes only leaving hers once he needed to turn his head to let out another soft stream of smoke. "Do you know what I think?"
"What do you think?" Romessa bit her lip, gazing up at Marco as per his unspoken command. She watched as he smirked softly, his hand suddenly finding her neck—and enclosing itself around it.
"I think that you showed up two weeks ago with a mask on your face," he began. "I think that mask makes you feel powerful. It makes you think you're in control. But really, you aren't." Slowly, his hand tightened around her neck, causing Romessa to draw in a breath of arousal as he pressed his knee into the mattress, resting it in between her legs. "I'm in control. Look at the way you react to me," he murmured. His voice was husky, like silk over gravel. "You crave me. I can see it in your eyes every time I come near you. They shine and they plead, just like they did when you were a girl."
