She feels the mattress dip as she flips onto her back, stretching out like a cat. The shirt he gave her raises, revealing the plane of her stomach, along with a few scars. His fingers begin to run across the exposed flesh before tapping on one of the circular scars and she inhales sharply.
“Chicken pox,” she says, her voice a broken whisper. She clears her throat, lifting to watch as he presses his mouth against it, his fingers flexing against her lower stomach. Her head falls back as a shiver runs through her. He does this a few more times, her body heating further with each pass of his lips.
When she can’t take it anymore, she rolls to her side, and stares at eyes the color of the sea.
I think I’m drowning, but I don’t want to be saved.
“Good morning,” she mumbles, her voice raspy.
“Morning,” he says, his eyes creasing around the corners.
“What time is it?” she asks around a yawn.
“A little after seven.”
“Hmm.” She fights to keep her eyes open. “Lucy?”
He drops on his back next to her, rubbing his hands down his face. “Mom likes to keep her after a big holiday, spend time with her, and usually I’m working.”
“That’s nice,” she says through another yawn and he laughs beside her. “I had a dream about this,” she murmurs after a while. “About what it would be like to wake up next to you.”
He turns to look at her. “And?”
“And … it’s different,” she says, her eyes flitting to his.
He sucks in a breath. “Not sure if I like where this is going.”
Of course, he sleeps without a shirt on, she thinks as her eyes roam his chest with naked curiosity, and then her hand follows, feeling the soft rhythm of his chest rising and falling as she traces patterns along his skin.
“It’s different in a good way,” she says. “Your hair kind of splits in every direction.” She places a hand through the silk-soft mess and his eyes close, his breathing turning heavy. “And your skin looks smoother, like you’re at peace.” Her fingers brush over his lips lightly. “And your lips are fuller.”
“Stop,” he says as his eyes snap open. He grabs ahold of her wrist to keep her hand in place.
“Why?” She breathes out, leaning forward slightly. “You started it.”
He shakes his head. “We need to talk, and if you keep touching me like that, I’ll kiss you. And if I kiss you …” He presses a deliberate kiss to her fingers, heat sparking low in herbelly. “I won’t hold back this time.” Her eyes drop to his mouth, and she licks her lips, leaning forward to finally close the space between them. To do something.
But then her body betrays her in other ways by letting out the loudest growl humanly possible. The hand Roman is holding tenses immediately, and she closes her eyes, the licks of embarrassment engulfing her fast.
He starts, “Are you?—”
“Nope.”
“—perhaps—”
“I’m fine.”
“—hungry?” he finishes, shaking with laughter next to her. She sighs, pulling her wrist from his to drape it across her face.
“I’ll go make something.”
She huffs, shaking her head. “Just leave me here to starve. I’m already dying from embarrassment.” She then grabs the lip of the cover, throwing it over her head.
He squeezes her calf through the sheet as he walks to the door. “Rest some more. I’ll wake you when it’s ready,” he says, still laughing.
Jahlani pads through the hallway, having showered and brushed her teeth before slipping back into the clothes Roman gave her last night. She smells like him, and she likes it a little too much.
As she steps into the kitchen, the distinct buttery scent of pancakes and smoky bacon makes her mouth water. He’s on the phone with his back turned as she walks out.
