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“Because I need…” I grunted in annoyance.
“Honesty, Lombardi.”
“Don’t make me say it, Barlow. I want to feel better, not worse.”
“That makes no sense.”
Fuck her being so frustrating and yet so fucking addictive. “Why do you always insist on making me sound like a nancy wanker?”
“Well, you just sound like a drunk idiot at the moment. So, anything’s a step up at this point.”
“Why do you have to make everything harder, but easier at the same time?” I asked her.
“You’re still not making sense.”
“You’re the only thing that makes sense right now, Barlow. The only thing that makes me feel anything but anger. You’re the only fucking thing in my life that makes anything better. And I need to feel better. I need you, Piper.”
It was cowardly and weak and selfish to put this on her, but the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. I was scared what I’d do if she kicked me out now.
“I’m here, Roman. I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “Just, tell me what happened.”
“Nothing.”
“Roman,” she pressed firmly.
What was I going to tell her? I didn’t even have words for what I was feeling.
“Rio and I found ourselves in a…predicament.”
“Are you hurt?” The concern in her voice near undid me. And not in a sexy way.
“I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m fine.”
She looked me over and searched my eyes. I didn’t know what she was looking for, but she put her hand on my cheek and it felt like she found it. She didn’t just find it, she understood. Like she always seemed to, she understood me. She accepted me. She, as always, was there for me.
Without saying anything, she slid my shirt down my arms as she kissed me again. I wound my arms around her and lifted her up to press her into the closest wall, and my lips trailed down her neck. She tilted her head a little and I heard her sigh in pleasure.
“Roman…my parents are sleeping down the hall,” she breathed.
“Then, you’re going to have to be quiet,” I told her before silencing her with my lips.
She responded to me instantly, the way she always did. Welcomed me with open arms and an open heart. And, as wanky as that sounded, I didn’t shy away from it. I did shy away from her hand as it ran over the bruising on my abs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded. “Fine.”
“Can I do–?”
“Barlow?” I huffed.
“Lombardi?”
“Shut up, love.”
I held her up with just my body as my hands ran over hers, and we kissed deep and hard. Her fingers were in my hair, still wet from the rain, and she held me to her tightly. As much as I just wanted to have her then and there, I wasn’t too deep in my own darkened shit that I forgot what happened the first time.
I put my hands under her legs and swung us to the bed. I lay her down gently, stripping off her jumper before her back hit the mattress. I took her legs in both hands and pulled her centre to mine. For a moment, I thought I’d been too rough with her, but her hands reached for me, her leg hugged my hip, and she drew me down to her lips.
Something was different between us. Not better. Not worse. Just different. Like a whole new layer of our relationship. We were quiet, practically silent, and it leant a whole new aspect to us. Everything we wanted to say, we’d usually say, had to be said with nothing but touch or looks. As we undressed each other, there was an air of desperation.
But with every touch and every look, as I buried myself in the greatest good I would ever know, I felt my soul begin to settle again. Nothing was fixed, not permanently. But she had the power to heal even the tiniest pieces of me, and it was more than I deserved.
