Dad loves us, but he’s used to getting his own way. I half expect him to put Roman under the patio and slap an engagement ring on my finger regardless of any perceived relationship.
Sighing, I lay down beside Roman, pulling one of his arms loosely over my waist. Warmth exudes from him. Fuck me, lying next to him feels so damn nice. I allow myself a few moments to imagine this being real. To imagine being Roman’s girlfriend and having him snuggle into me without being out of his face on sedatives.
His hand flexes against my stomach, pulling me tighter as I angle my phone and snap a few pictures of us both together, looking every bit the cosied-up couple. The way his fingers pull me closer to his pelvis sends tingles darting up my spine and renders my senses useless.
I have the photo to send to Eliza, and I should get out of here pronto.
But…
Being in his arms might well be a one-time thing, because in a few days, he’ll hate me. Let’s face it, I’ve already broken countless laws and made dubious moral choices, what’s a little cuddle amongst future enemies, right?
His chest expands against my back, his crotch pressed distractingly against my butt. How can such a fine specimen of a man eschew so much absolute bullshit online? He has his pick of women andliberallyindulges in them, yet has this sexless douche act that the world believes.
Extracting myself from his arm, quite reluctantly, I sit. Gosh, the way his dark eyelashes skim his cheeks has me in a chokehold. The naked expanse of his chest is like a new terrain just begging to be explored.
Throwing caution to the wind, I press one fingertip lightly to his warm skin and follow the dips and swells of his muscled abdomen. My thighs clench at having him skin to skin, and I know I need to stop.
To behave myself.
‘Maggie,’ he breathes, and I still my hand just north of his waistband where a dark line of hair disappears into the no-go-zone. ‘I heard you.’
I’m frozen to the spot when his eyes flutter open, struggling to focus on my face.
Stay calm, Maggie. He’ll forget this if you don’t do anything rash.
‘Heard me say what?’ I ask.
‘You were being a… dirty girl… moaning my name.’ The words were slurred, but brought a flaming heat to my cheeks.
He heard me?!
Oh God. That was before I got locked out. He’d stood there and spoken to me after listening to me fuck myself.
Holy crap. If he wasn’t off his tits, I’d be mortified. Hell. Iammortified.
‘Shh,’ I croon, hoping his eyes will close again.
‘My real name. Say it again.’ Even through his drugged haze, there’s a command to his voice that makes my stomach flip-flop like a disorientated trout.
‘I—’
‘For me?’
I crumble.
‘Roman.’ I say his name softly.
‘Dirtier,’ he murmured, his eyes fluttering once more.
‘I can’t.’ If my cheeks redden any more, I fear they’ll set his place alight.
‘Later?’
His word dies on his lips as he slips back into unconsciousness. I’m left both embarrassed and somewhat turned on by the revelation he’d listened to me, and hadn’t been utterly repulsed by it.
I press my hand to those delicious abs for one more moment, revelling in their glory.
‘Only one week to go,’ I say, watching his breathing even out as he slips to the dreamworld. ‘Let’s hope you can act as well for me as you do for your insipid fans, Roman.’
