Roman opened the window with a gruff sigh.
“Please don’t be upset that I’m here.”
“I’m not upset with you. I’m mad at myself—because I want you to be here.”
“Good, because I’m not leaving.” I moved right up to the window, daring him. “Move over.”
His eyes widened, caught somewhere between fear and disbelief. Or maybe just shocked at my audacity.
“Demi,” he groaned, his tone heavy with reason and caution.
“This is getting ridiculous. I might have only a few days left to be me. And I’m going to spend them doing what I want. And I want to be with you.”
“Damn it.” His voice was rough, torn. But he didn’t hesitate to reach out and offer me his hand.
I grabbed it before he could change his mind—or before I had to tackle him to get inside.
He hoisted me up, his strong hands wrapping around my ribcage, pulling me through the window until I was standing in front of him.
My palms landed on his bare chest without hesitation.
He held his breath, every muscle tensing beneath my touch. Heat radiated from his skin, the faint rise and fall of his chest betraying the storm inside him.
“Roman,” I whispered, my fingers pressing deeper into the warmth of him.
I caught sight of his rumpled bedsheets and the papers strewn everywhere as if he’d been researching. The smell of strong coffee lingered in the air.
“This is wrong,” he said halfheartedly, his jaw tightening as though the words were costing him.
“You don’t believe that because it’s not true.”
He closed his eyes, and his hands slid over mine, pressing them firmly against his chest.
“Demi,” he breathed out, voice rough, trembling. “I love you.”
Tears blurred my vision. I knew he did—I could feel it—but hearing the words meant so much more. My throat constricted, my body shook as if the weight of his words settled over me. Almost like a spell. For just a moment I thought maybe those beautiful words would unlock my heart, but still there was a barrier there. Something that wouldn’t budge.
“If I could choose to love anyone, I would love you.” My voice cracked, my fingers curling against his skin. It was the best I could offer him for now. My heart physically would not allow me to say the words back, but I could almost feel them. Almost.
He didn’t seem to mind. His head lowered, and his lips brushed mine, so gently I barely felt it. My breath hitched, my body leaning instinctively closer.
“I don’t want to be the reason you can’t love. Please tell me who you once loved. Maybe—”
I silenced him with a kiss, pressing my lips to his before I let the truth spill out. “Roman,” I murmured against his mouth, aching to be devoured by him but forcing myself to speak. My hand slid up to the curve of his neck, thumb brushing his beard. “That man—I didn’t know him as well as I thought. I shouldn’t have locked my heart because of him.”
Roman flinched, his grip tightening on my waist.
“I knew he was the reason you locked your heart. Was it Jonas? That bastard.”
“No,” I laughed softly, shaking my head, my forehead brushing his. “It wasn’t him. And it doesn’t matter who it is. Because I’ve watched you, gotten to know you, and you’re the kind of man I want to love.” My fingers traced the line of his collarbone. “You’re a good man. The best kind of man. The kind who thinks of others before himself.”
His breath became fractured, chest rising sharply beneath my touch.
“How can you say that when all I want to do right now is take you to my bed and make love to you—when I know damn well your heart is on the line and I can’t unlock it, no matter how much I want to?”
“Roman, that’s not the only thing you want.” My fingers danced across his heart. I rested my palm on it and felt the steady thrum. I could read it clearly. “You want me to be happy. You want me to love.”
“I want all those things for you, but I can’t give them to you.”
