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He smiled and, with his hand on my lower back, guided me to walk with him, leaving the security guy, and the bulk of my sanity, behind.
“Why did you kiss me?”
“Shh,” he said and squeezed my hip.
I clamped my mouth shut and tamped down everything that was going through my mind. We didn’t head toward the dining room like I’d expected. Instead, he led me down a more private hallway.
The high arches were lined with crown molding, and soft hues of cream and butterscotch accented the walls. Several winding turns later, we arrived at a large, wooden door with two men standing on either side.
“Gentlemen,” Roman acknowledged as he opened the door.
“Good evening, sir. Ma’am,” said the one I remember as Andrew.
“Hi,” I muttered, feeling like I was walking into a special ops meeting or something.
There was no further exchange. Roman simply opened the door and led me in. Based on the security, I expected to enter an office or a secret meeting, but no. It was a bedroom. And it was intimidating.
“Is this your room?”
He nodded.
“Wow,” I breathed, half impressed and half shocked. My whole apartment could fit inside this one room.
A massive fireplace was in the center of the wall across from us, giving off small pops and crackles, and making the room smell like pine trees and autumn. Two doors, which I assumed led to other rooms, were to the left of where I stood.
To the far right, there was a large sleigh bed made up in blue sheets, blankets, and pillows of varying hues. A little sitting area, complete with a small table and plush chairs, was situated in front of the stone-lined fireplace.
“I thought we were going to have dinner?”
“We are,” he said and took my purse, setting it on the little table. “Food will be sent up.”
“I…” My words were dying fast as I looked around.
This was a bad idea. Playing girlfriend was one thing, but I remembered the promise Roman had made about us being in close proximity to a bed—that if anything happened, it would be because I wanted it. Problem was, I trusted him more than myself when it came to that subject. I tended to lose my mind where he was concerned, and the closer he came, the more I lost.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
He didn’t acknowledge my words. Instead, he invaded my space in one stride, eating up the distance between us.
“We need to talk,” he rasped. His large palms cupped my neck, then trailed to my shoulders.
The moment his hands touched me, I shivered like a neglected kitten desperate for affection. I tried to hang on to my gumption, to broach the topics we needed to discuss, but he ran those warm palms over my back in a soft, sweeping caress, and my stupid body instantly arched into his touch. When he wove around to my front, sliding over my stomach and up to cup my breasts, I jumped back.
“What are you doing?”
“Frisking you.”
He stepped closer, closing the distance again, seeming completely unaffected. Kneeling, he clasped my thigh between his hands and slid down past my calf, all the way to the ankle. The other leg received the same attention The entire surface of my skin was flushed and tingling from his touch, and I hoped he couldn’t hear my heart, which was about ready to beat its way out of my ribs.
“What is it you’re looking for?”
“Wires.”
“I’m wearing a skirt. You’d see them if there were any.” The statement came out a bit harsh, either from the absurdity of the situation, or the fact that his bare hands were on my bare thighs, and the only thing I could think about was being more bare.
He stood and shrugged, obviously pleased and not at all ashamed about copping a feel.
“You can’t be too careful.”
