Chloe was always a good sister. She would’ve died for me. And I was going to pay her back by going and complicating my relationship with her husband? Even though I was inexperienced, I knew what I was feeling, and I didn’t know how to turn it off. It probably didn’t help that I thought he felt the same way about me. I could feel his excitement as he lay with me, or at least I think I had.
I told myself that he was a man and that any guy would get hard from holding a woman the way he had me. I told myself I shouldn’t overthink it, but that begs the question. Why did he get into bed with me? Why did he hold me? If he didn’t feel the same way I did, why did he do all of that? He had no problem telling me no at any other time. What made that time different?
When I was given the whole pitcher of beer, I slipped the bartender some cash and made my way back to the table where Trevor and Lance were.
Lance looked up at me, and his eyes lit up as a smile stretched across his handsome face, making my heart flutter in my chest. I quickly took my seat and poured myself another glass of beer. I chugged back several gulps, hoping the alcohol would help to numb some of the emotions that were taking hold. I felt guilty, greedy, and dishonest for feeling the way I did about my sister’s husband.
The whole thing with Lance had me worried and scared because I didn’t want to lose my friends by getting involved with him romantically, yet I knew turning him down could cause the same problems. And then there was all the confusion I felt when I thought of Roman. I didn’t know why my stomach filled with butterflies when I thought of him. I didn’t understand why a throbbing formed between my legs when I pictured him. And Ididn’t know why I had urges to do things to myself that I’d never done before, but I knew it all stemmed from him.
And that was a very big problem.
TWENTY-TWO
ROMAN
Ididn’t want to call her and tell her to get her ass home, but I wanted her to get her ass home.
I kept the bottle of bourbon in my hand, fingers wrapped tightly around the neck as I sat in the living room, eyes glued to the clock. Thetick, tick, tickwas about to make me go insane. Every tick was another second that she wasn’t home where I wanted her. Every tick was another second that she was with him, doing God only knew what.
When I thought about the way he looked at her when she wasn’t looking, when I pictured him feeding her shot after shot of alcohol she had no business drinking, when I imagined him touching her, kissing her, stealing away her innocence, my anger nearly exploded out of me.
I brought the bottle back to my lips and poured in a large glug, swallowing it down. I grabbed my cell off the coffee table in front of me. I had sat it there when I went to sit down, watching it and willing it to ring. It never did, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I dialed her number and counted the rings until she answered.
“Hello?” she yelled, talking over the noise of the bar.
“Where are you?”
“I’m hanging out with friends.”
“Time to come home.” I squeezed the bottle in my other hand.
“Oh my God, Roman,” she complained. “I’m an adult, you know? You can’t keep telling me what to do.”
“Maybe not, but I can make sure that the contract you willingly signed is upheld. Now, are you going to come home, or do we need to see this play out in court?”
She let out a laugh. “You’re going to sue me for breaking the contract?”
“I don’t want to, but you’re forcing my hand here.”
She let out a growl of anger. “I’m on my way.”
“Are you safe to drive, or do I need to send a car?”
“I’m fine. I’ll grab a taxi.” She hung up before I could respond.
I tossed my phone back onto the table and took another drink. My vision was starting to blur. My heart was racing, pounding against my chest, and warming my blood as it rushed through every inch. I grew hot, unsure if the spike in blood pressure was from her defiance, the whiskey, or something else. A growl ripped from my lips as I stood and walked across the room, where I started to pace back and forth. I walked back and forth again and again, losing track of time. All I knew was that it was taking her too long to get home.
I was pissed that she broke the rules.Again.
I was pissed that I had to call her and tell her to get her ass home.Again.
I was pissed off at myself for not being able to stop fucking thinking about her.Again.
It was taking her too long. I worried that something had happened. Did she get in a car accident? Just the thought of losing her in a car accident was enough to cripple me.
My pacing stopped, and I brought the bottle to my mouth, taking in more. I told myself to calm down, to stop overreacting, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was calling her back to make sure she was OK. My eyes moved to my phone that I left on the table, and I picked up my phone to take a step. Before I could, though, the front door opened, and she came walking in.
I was flooded with relief, but somehow that only doubled my anger.
