Then the front door opened.
Rome sat upright fast, his panicked eyes looking at me, “Fuck.”
“Close the door,” I exclaimed.
That would have been the logical choice, but I should have expected Rome to do the exact opposite. He lifted me over his shoulder and ran to his room, buck-ass nude. Voices wafted up the stairs, but he managed to kick the door close before they could get to us.
He collapsed onto the bed, pulling me down with him. I laughed with my whole body. “Well, that was close.”
“Can you imagine?” He asked with a smirk. “I’m close to my family, but notthatclose.”
I laughed again, and the cool air in his room wafted against my sweaty skin. I crawled under the blankets, pulling Rome under with me.
He breathed heavily next to me, the sweat that covered his body glistening in the moonlight. He was gorgeous in the dim light, the shadows highlighting his jaw and cheekbones. He was the definition of beauty in that moment.
My hand traced the center lines of his abs slowly, watching the skin grow goosebumps under my hand. Rome was larger than life. He was unmovable, unshakable, yet I had the power to bring him to his knees.
It was a power most men I had been with in the past despised. They couldn't handle me being richer, smarter, and more powerful than them in any capacity. It truth, it was this power I had in my work that ended all of my previous relationships.
“Does my work bother you?” I asked.
He stared at me for a moment, looking thoroughly confused, “No?”
“Other people I’ve been with were intimidated. Men seem to have a problem when they’re not the breadwinner or some shit in a relationship,” I tried to explain.
Rome turned to his side, propping his head on his hand, “Why would I be anything but proud of you?”
I shrugged, “I… I just want us to work, okay?”
Rome smirked as he looked down at me. He reached forward with his free hand, tucking my hair behind my ear, “Are you trying to communicate right now?”
I rolled my eyes, “You’re obnoxious.”
He laughed, “And you love me even more because of it.” It was meant to be a joke, one of his many offhanded comments, but it hit me straight through the heart, because I did.
I loved him. His smiles, his jokes, his obnoxious behavior. All of it. I loved it. I loved him.
Shit.
Now what?
Rome looked at me with confusion, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
How did I explain that I was having an existential crisis because I loved him? That sounded ridiculous. What if he didn’t love me back? It would be embarrassing to tell him and for him not to feel the same way.
Yeah, nope, not doing that.
“Bec?” Rome asked, now moving above me as he held his weight, one hand on each side of me. His usual smirk morphed into a look of concern.
“How can we get me back to work?” I asked suddenly. It was on both of our minds, seemed like a valid topic, and would also help him move on from my internal crisis.
Rome sighed and kissed my nose lightly, his biceps flexing from the motion. “Do we have to get you back?”
I nodded, “I want to go back, Rome.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. It was as though he was forcing himself to respect my choice. That was one thing I loved about him. While he would always share his opinion, he wouldn’t fight me on my choices when it came to my own life. He respected me as an individual.
He opened his eyes again and stood. He wandered over to his bookshelf and pulled out a folder. “I’ve thought about this. From the perspective of your head of security, and the perspective of your boyfriend.” He turned to me, the folder outstretched. “This was the best compromise I could come up with.”
