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She pokes her head back out, alarmed. “Am I in your bed?”
“No need to tell me what an honor it is. You already did that plenty last night.”
She pales, and I regret my words instantly. I know what I’ve insinuated.
You assholed a little too hard that time, Roman.
“Did we…?” She gulps, the question trailing off, but I know well enough what she’s wondering. “Again?”
“No. Of course not.” I purse my lips, disgusted that she’d ever believe I could take advantage of her. “Since you could barely stand, I can’t imagine it would have been very good for either of us.”
“Okay…” Slowly, she sits up, the duvet pooling around her waist as she takes in my bedroom, as wide-eyed as she was last night. At least now, there’s clarity in those big brown eyes. She’s sober… enough.
Her hand rises to her clammy temple slowly. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Roman. This was bad, even for me.”
It certainly reminded me of the age difference between us. My days of going out and getting obliterated are over, although I enjoy getting a buzz every now and again. She still has years of carefree fun to enjoy with her friends.
Fucking her, touching her, obsessing over her made me feel young, but last night… well, she made me feel a little old.
I could reprimand her the way I might have a few weeks ago. I could agree. But there isn’t a hint of anger inside me — for her, at least. I’m angry at whoever made her feel unsafe. I’m angry at the damn security officer who wouldn’t let her into her own apartment. I’m angry at whoever let her come home in that state alone, though glad that at least it wasn’t a date like she’d teased earlier in the evening.
I rake my sleep-mussed hair back and sigh. We’re treading new ground now. She’s seen me vulnerable, and I her. I’m so used to being one step ahead of everyone that I don’t know how to navigate our equal terrain.
And it is equal. If anything, she’s ahead of me. She can control me with a look, bring me to my knees with a smile. I’d do anything to stay this close to her, and that makes me feel like a simpering, weak fool.
I can’t let her keep distracting me, but I can’t push her away either.
“Don’t let it happen again and we won’t have a problem,” I decide finally.
She nods, expression dripping with regret. Perhaps she doesn’t like being vulnerable, either.
I want to ask what she meant about feeling safe, but it doesn’t feel right to bring it up yet. She’s clearly mourning her dignity, and I have less than an hour before I need to be in the office.
I stand up, heading to my walk-in closet and grabbing a fresh suit for the day. I feel her eyes follow me as I lay it out on my side of the bed. The thought of not seeing her all day makes me ache, but my brain quickly comes up with a solution.
“I’d like you to bring Leo to the office at lunch today. I’ve carved out an hour at one.”
She blinks, surprised. “Wow. Why?”
My eyes narrow to slits, though I know I’ve earned the question. “Do I need an excuse to spend time with my son?”
“Well, most dads don’t. You seem to. What about keeping him secret?”
It has crossed my mind, but I know I can’t keep using my fear of Leo being found out to avoid spending time with him. It’s only hurting him. “Most of the office is taking a lunch break at that point, anyway, and they’re not brave enough to ask questions.”
I peel off my T-shirt, something I wouldn’t usually sleep in but thought was safer to wear last night. I didn’t want her to wake up thinking I’d taken liberties.
Her gaze scours my toned abs and hair-dusted chest slowly, and I can’t help but smirk. “Like what you see?”
She stretches her arms and, through a yawn, replies: “I think we’re past pretending otherwise, aren’t we?”
“Hmm, about that…” I crawl back onto the bed, crumpling my shirt as I run my fingers along her bare arms. Her dress is creased and twisted — she was out so quickly I didn’t even think to help her change into something comfortable.
Tensing against me, her eyes glint with curiosity. She watches my careful hands draw goosebumps across her skin for a moment.
“Yes?”
“What do you propose we do about all this?”
