She moves around the bed then, walking toward him slowly. Cautiously, like a baby deer.
He extends his hand to her and after a second of hesitation she takes it, lowering into his lap. He can’t seem to help himself when he pulls her closer to bury his nose into her neck. He inhales deeply.
“You smell heavenly.”
Like home.
He feels her throat work through a swallow, and he kisses her softly before pulling back to look at her.
“You’re quiet,” he says, shaking his leg to get her attention. “Talk to me.”
When she doesn’t speak, he drops a kiss to her forehead.
“Jahlani—”
“I’m going to California,” she says in a rush.
Roman’s heart drops into his stomach as she continues to speak, not meeting his eyes.
“It’s for an interview and I know the timing is bad with Lucy, but it’s for my dream position, and I can’t—” she stammers, letting out a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay—she’s fine,” he says, drawing her closer to his chest. “I’m happy for you. I’m sure you’ll do great, baby. How long are you going for?”
“Just for the weekend,” she whispers. “It’ll be good for us to get some space, so that you can focus on Lucy, you know?”
Roman shakes his head, pulling back to look at her.
“When is it going to get through to you that space is the last thing that I want from you?”
Her eyes trail to his lips, linger for far too long which he’scompletely okay with,before meeting his eyes.
“Do you need a ride?” he asks, his tone gentle.
“A ride?” she murmurs, unable to tear her gaze from his mouth. He can’t help the lurid images that flash through his head—them in his bed, him shirtless and bare, her knees anchored on both sides of him as she straddles him, his fist in her hair as she presses herself down, him moaning her name.
He exhales before meeting her gaze. Her lips curve upward, and she gives him a knowing look.
“To the airport.”
She sighs, running a shaky hand over her braids. “No. It’s too much trouble.”
“Nothing’s too much trouble when it comes to you, Jahlani.”
“Don’t say things like that,” she whispers.
“Like what?”
“Just … you know. Like that.”
His eyes shift to her lips once more. Shaking his head, she slides off his lap, removing her warmth. He watches her slide her bag onto her shoulder and kiss Lucy on the forehead.
When they reach the door, he stills as she looks up, meeting his gaze. Her face is etched with something he can’t quite place—anguish, frustration, a rawness that takes him by surprise. He runs a hand through his hair, gripping the handle of the door with white-knuckled intensity.
“Just call me. Please. Can you do that? Can you just—” His voice cracks. For a moment, everything freezes. There’s only her, standing there, looking at him like he holds the answers to something she hasn’t figured out.
His breath catches, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t think was possible because she looks desperate, vulnerable—completely at odds with the woman who usually imprisons her feelings.
“I’ll call you,” she whispers, her voice sounding small. “Promise.”
