And every single time, he acted like he already knew that and didn’t care.
That was the part that made him dangerous.
He never pushed too hard, but he also never backed off.
He would sit across from me all cool and laid back, listening to me talk my shit, laughing when I got smart with him, looking at me in that heavy way that made my stomach start doing flips. More than once I caught myself getting nervous around him, which irritated me bad because I ain’t never been no shy bitch.
But Roman had a way about him.
The kind that made you feel seen.
The kind that made you feel like if he ever really put that pressure on you, you might fold.
And that was exactly why I kept turning him down.
Because one thing about me, I knew when I was attracted to somebody.
I knew when a man’s voice had started doing too much to me.
I knew when a look lasted too long and had my stomach fluttering and my thoughts drifting where they ain’t have no business going.
Roman did all of that without even trying.
He’d lean in close just to hear me better and I’d have to remind myself to breathe. He’d put his hand at the small of my back leading me through a doorway, and my whole body would go stupid. He smelled too good. Looked too good. Talked too damn smooth. And every time I got around him, them little butterflies started acting up in my stomach, and my body would wake up in ways I was trying hard not to pay attention to.
But wanting a man and trusting one was two different things.
I ain’t trust shit after Jordan with all that damn drama, and after feeling stupid one too many times.
So no matter how good Roman looked, no matter how much tension sat between us when we were together, I stayed keeping him at arm’s length.
He would ask, “Why you always running from me?”
And I’d look him dead in his face and say, “I’m not running. I just know better.”
He would laugh like he knew I was full of shit, and maybe I was.
Still, seeing him across from me on this trip felt like a setup. Like the universe was testing me and my self-control.
I walked into the bedroom and flopped across the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I had come out here to clear my head, breathe, and get away from everything that had been weighing on me. My dad, the drama, the hurt, the nonstop mess that kept finding me back home. I needed peace.
Not six-foot-something, fine, rich, persistent-ass Roman Blake staying across the damn walkway from me.
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath, but the second I did, all I could see was his face when he looked at me downstairs. That little smirk. Them dark eyes sliding over me like he was happy to see me and already plotting at the same time.
“Girl, get it together,” I whispered to myself.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and when I looked over, I saw Charlee’s name lighting up the screen.
I answered on the second ring. “What?”
She laughed. “Damn, bitch. You sound irritated.”
“I’m on vacation. Why are you calling me?”
“To check on you, rude ass. How you doing?”
