Page 99 of Lease to Love

The silence that followed was deafening. Heavy. Nothing but the sound of my breathing, which I was trying to keep steady.

"I haven't told anybody that story in years," I whispered when I finally ran out of words.

Roman didn't rush to fill the silence.

He didn't touch me. Didn't pull me into his chest or tell me everything happened for a reason or offer some polished piece of wisdom that would've made me want to punch him in the throat. He didn't try to fix it with his hands the way he seemed determined to fix everything else in his life. He just stood there, close enough for me to know I wasn't alone and far enough away for me to decide what happened next.

"I know—I know I should’ve just waited to fall apart in here where it wouldn't have cost you anything.” The words came fast, tumbling over one another now that they'd started. " I'm sorry I made this your problem. I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of people who could buy and sell my whole world twice over, in a dress you paid for, wearing shoes that probably cost more than everything in this apartment, when I'm the reason we're even in this situation in the first place."

I finally turned toward him, tears burning my eyes. "You should probably just end this before I can make it w—"

And suddenly, his mouth was on mine.

Not like the day of the fair, not hungry or teasing.

Not like the kisses on the cheek we'd shared because people were watching and we needed to sell a story.

This kiss was quiet and steady, his mouth warm against mine, and it didn't ask anything from me. It simply settled over my entire nervous system like a hand pressed flat against something shaking, and every word I'd been preparing to throw at him died somewhere I couldn't reach anymore.

When he pulled back, it was only far enough to cradle my face between both hands. His thumbs brushed beneath my eyes, catching tears I hadn't realized had escaped.

"Summer." His voice had gone rough. "Look at me."

I did.

"I'm not letting you go because you had a panic attack."

A sob cracked loose from somewhere deep in my chest before he continued:

"I'm not letting you go for anything."

The tears came harder then, but he kissed me again before I could apologize for those too. This time I let myself fall into it, my hands curling into the lapels of his jacket as I pulled him closer, needing the solid warmth of him, needing something real beneath my fingers.

He walked me backward, slow and deliberate, and for one breathless second I thought he was steering us toward the bed. Instead, he turned me gently until I was facing the full-length mirror beside my closet.

Him behind me. My back to his front. Both of us framed in the glass.

His mouth found the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine, "Listen to me…“ he said, letting one hand settle at my hip.

“I don't give a damn about those people." He murmured.

His other hand came up, warm and careful, resting just at the base of my throat—not squeezing, just holding me there, grounding me.

It felt like an anchor.

He turned his head, his lips pressing to my temple in a barely-there kiss.

"Their money…” He started, his voice so low I felt the words against my skin more than I heard them. “Their opinions of me. Their opinions of you. Yeah, they're probably still talking about how we left. Let them."

His eyes met mine in the mirror.

"Because I don't give a damn about that either."

My breath caught.

"You know what I cared about tonight, Sunshine?" His thumb moved slowly against my hip. "You. Getting you home. Helping you feel safe again. That's it. That's all I cared about."

I stared at him through the mirror, trying to reconcile those words with the man I'd spent months calling Lucifer.