We stare at each other for an uncomfortably long period of time. If it were anyone else, I would have looked away by now. But the weird truth is…I don’t want to look away. I’m not about to admit that, though.
“I just wanted to see what it looked like.” Another fib. “Abella said you guys were gone, and I was bored, so I decided to explore. I haven’t been to this part of the house in years.”
He doesn’t look like he believes that for a second, but he plays along.
“Find anything interesting?”
“No.” I frown. “There’s barely anything in here.”
“I have everything I need.”
“Well, that’s nice. Can I go now?”
A hint of a smile teases his lips. “I’m not stopping you.”
“Are you really going to make me go through that?” I gesture at the narrow gap.
He glances at the space and shrugs. “I don’t see a problem.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I let out an annoyed sigh as I set Beppe down. He’ll have no problem fitting through.
I approach Romeo and wedge myself between him and the doorframe. He doesn’t budge an inch, so the entirety of my body smashes up against his as I try to squeeze through. To my utter humiliation, I get stuck, and the warm, solid press of his frame disorients me.
He turns to face me, offering me a temporary opening to leave. But before I can scurry off, he cages me in with his arms, and my heart picks up speed.
“Hey, Gabi?” His gaze rakes over me, something dark and hungry lurking behind those amber eyes.
“Yes?” I swallow.
“If I catch you in here again—” His voice dips. “I’ll incarcerate you.”
30
ROMEO
[ENTRY 011] — MALWARE ELIMINATED
> Patience threshold exceeded.
> Quarantine insufficient.
> Removal required.
> System stabilized.
Throughout the restof the night, I catch Gabi stealing glances at me, trying to piece together what she can no longer deny.
It’s self-destructive, but I want that question in her mind every time she looks at me. I want her to think of me, and only me, when I’m inside her.
She wasn’t ready before, but she’s had enough time to process the idea, and it’s a firm possibility in her mind. Her body responds to me, whether she likes to admit it or not. And every time I engage with her as myself, it throws her off so much, she blushes furiously.
I’m flirting with danger, and logically, I know it can’t go on forever. I’m incapable of being what she needs, and that hasn’tchanged. But the thought of letting her go feels impossible. I don’t know how to reconcile those two versions of myself—one that wants to be selfish, and the other that wants to protect.
For now, selfish wins.
At dinner, I get under her skin, sitting beside her and stretching out until my leg bumps against hers. She glances down at the contact, but doesn’t move away.
