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“No.”
“Roman.”
“No.”
“You don't even know what I'm going to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I was going to compliment your form.”
“Bullshit. Besides, I haven’t even started.”
I don’t say anything.
He lifts the weights overhead, then drops them by his ears.
“Your form is excellent.”
“Move.”
“Why?”
“Because you're standing over my head.”
“Technically, I'm standing behind your head.”
“Callie.”
“And if I moved forward about six inches—”
“No.” His hands tighten around the dumbbells. “You’ve already sat on my face once.”
I bite my lip.
His eyes drop to my mouth. The air changes.
Roman's gaze slowly moves back to mine.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
The gym noise—weights hitting racks, music, people talking—seems to disappear. It all fades beneath the look in his eyes.
My pulse kicks. I know that look. I saw it in my bedroom.
Suddenly, teasing him doesn’t feel as safe as it did thirty seconds ago.
Not because I'm afraid of Roman. Because I want him. Badly.
His voice drops. “Don't start something you aren't prepared to finish, Chaos.”
Heat slides straight through me.
I swallow. “Who says I'm not prepared?”
His jaw tightens.
I take one tiny step forward.
