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“I–I didn’t know she was yours. So–sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything, just glares at the man. My eyes slide to Chase, finding him with his arms folded over his chest as he watches. He doesn’t look like he wants to intervene. If anything, he looks proud.
Finally, the guy is far enough away that Roman turns to me. Immediately, he falls to a knee and scans me. “You okay, Goldie? Did he touch you? Scare you?” His voice is soft, sweet, worried.
Another piece of me heals.
“I’m okay,” I breathe, glancing in the direction he moved.
“Eyes on me,” Roman says gently. “Don’t worry about him. Look at me.” My gaze finds his, and I take a deep, grounding breath. “That’s my good girl.”
I nearly melt into a puddle. Jesus Christ.
His lips tip up in a small smile, his eyes still searching mine, still looking for any sign that I’m not alright. But…I am. I am okay. I’m fine, because I knew Roman was here. I knew he was only a few feet away, and he’d protect me.
I knew I wasn’t alone.
My tongue runs along my bottom lip, and he tracks the movement. His eyes darken, and I press my legs together. Shit. Why is he so hot?
Why do I feel like this?
I’ve never had someone claim me so publicly, so primally before. But that’s what he did. He made it known to that guy, and everyone in the gym, that I belong to Roman Payne.
And fuck if that doesn’t feel good.
Heat courses through my body. His eyes are hooded as he stares back at me. Standing, he reaches out and I slide my hand into his, letting him help me to my feet.
We’re standing too close to each other, but still, it’s not close enough. His body is against mine like this for the first time in weeks, and I remember how much I missed the feel of him. How much I missed him.
But then someone clears their throat, and I look around. Everyone is staring at us. Some are trying to pretend like they’re not gawking at Ro, but they can’t hide it.
“Ro,” I whisper, and he hums, swaying into me. He doesn’t feel everyone’s eyes on us? “Everyone is staring.” Briefly, he glances around, then looks back at me and shrugs.
“They can look all they like,” he murmurs. “But they can’t touch what’s mine.”
My heart shoots into my throat at the possessive words. Roman’s possessiveness is different than Isaac’s ever was. His lingers under the surface, not too loud or obvious, but it’s there. A constant gentle reminder that I am his, and he is mine.
And then there are moments like this, where he doesn’t hesitate to pounce. To protect me. Claim me.
Without my permission, my body presses against his. He makes a sound low in his throat, his hands balling into fists at his sides. My breath catches as he stares at my lips. Anticipation swirls in my stomach.
Will he kiss me? Right here in front of everyone?
My eyes flutter closed, my lips already parting, silently begging for him.
“Fuck,” he breathes, then he’s gone. His warmth, his body, his presence. Gone.
My lids fly open, and I stare up at him. “Ro—”
“I’m sorry,” he rasps. “I didn't mean—shit.”
He didn’t mean…what?
My body is still tight, my pussy still throbbing, and I want to feel his lips on mine. I need to. It’s been so long.
Reluctantly, he stumbles back a step, but my hand shoots out and grips his wrist. His eyes widen as I yank him forward. I’m not stupid enough to think I can move him on my own. He’s only moving because he wants to.
My hand slides around the back of his neck, his sweat slick against my skin as I pull him down. His eyes stay wide as my lips meet his. He’s stiff for a moment, and I worry I’ve done the wrong thing. That I’ve somehow embarrassed him, or misread the entire situation.
