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“We were roommates freshman year, so…” I trail off, realizing I’m making myself sound so much worse than I ever needed to.Why, why do I open my mouth?
He exhales sharply through his nose. “It’s a good thing you’re a bad liar, good girl, or I’d be calling Catalina right now to get a list of every man who’s ever touched you.”
A shiver travels down my spine. I might be a bad liar myself, but I’m good at spotting lies, and Roman has never been more serious.
He grabs my hand and pulls me around a corner into a less crowded hallway. “Less,” being the key word. It’s not empty, just not packed, and I can still see the outlines of people walking past his shoulder behind him as he backs me up against the wall. “So where are we going, good girl?”
“Stop.” My voice is nearly pleading. “We can’t be seen here.”
His exasperation is evident, but still, he grabs my hand and drags me behind him down the hall toward the nearest door. I doubt he even knows where we’re going. We could be about to barge into a full classroom.
But thank the gods, we don’t.
Roman opens a door onto a dimly lit classroom full of four-seater worktables and yanks me inside.
“Happy?” he asks, low and dangerous.
“Never better,” I snap.
We hold each other’s gaze and electricity seems to charge between us. I bite my lip and his gaze tracks the movement. I feel my pulse shift lower.
Roman’s tongue darts out to run over his bottom lip, his black eyes following my every tiny shift and intake of breath. “Come back to my place.”
A shiver of excitement travels over my entire body, hardening my nipples and making my pulse pound in my core. Gods, I hate him for how much he affects me. I hate that I want to go with him more than anything, even though I know it’s a terrible idea. My attempts to put distance between us are failing miserably, and I’m flailing.
I suck in a quick breath, my gaze darting between his black eyes. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I really can’t. I told you I have to go to dinner with Harrison and my parents.”
“Fuck that,” he says emphatically. “It doesn’t matter what Dane thinks about you, anyway.”
“This isn’t about that. It’s about following the plan.”
He leans in closer, his face only inches from mine, and his tone is mocking as he runs his fingers up the inside of my thigh. “Do I need to remind you who owns this?”
“Excuse me if I don’t want to screw up the plan and have it be my fault if my cousin kills you.”
He stares at me with so much intensity I almost can’t hold his gaze. It’s all-consuming, yet I have no idea what he’s thinking. If he’s angry, or about to start shouting. I shiver. Everything about Roman’s personality is too intense—too saturated—like he was born with the contrast settings up too high. Yet knowing that, seeing it from afar, and having all that feverish, near-fanatical energy solely focused on me, are three entirely different experiences.
When he speaks, it’s so low, I strain my ears to hear him. “Fine, good girl. We’ll stick to your plan for now.”
“Good,” I mutter, confused at how easy that was. Why do I feel like I’m not out of the woods yet?
Roman glances over at one of the long, workbench style desks in the empty classroom and his lip curls in a half-smile. “Come here.”
I shouldn’t. Ishouldargue, except I don’t have a single leg to stand on, that isn’t shaking or bare of tights.
I take two, wobbling steps toward the nearest table as he asks: “What time is it, good girl?”
I quirk an eyebrow at him, confused, before fumbling in my pocket for my phone. “Um, it’s 4:50.” I glance back up at him, as I speak and realize belatedly he’s wearing a watch. I scoff. “But you already knew that, right?”
He smiles. “I’m guessing this classroom will get used at 5:00, which means you have exactly ten minutes.”
“To what?”
“To persuade me to let you go to your insipid dinner.”
