Choosing the best one, I send it to Eliza with the caption, ‘Skivved work to have a bed day together.’
Shoving my phone in my bag, I quickly dress myself, and in a moment of complete adrenaline-induced hysteria, I shove his t-shirt into the tote too.
Shit.
The brief laydown has his bed looking anything but the military-pristine level of tucked in.
Working from one side to the other while shoving my feet back into my shoes, I do my best to restore it to pre-Maggie perfection.
With my hair sticking to my cheeks, I get it as close as I can, gathering up my belongings and making for escape.
A key turns in his lock.
Oh god.
Oh god.
Oh god.
Panic sets in, and I circle the bedroom like a lost puppy looking for a place to wee.
This isn’t the plan.
I throw myself into his wardrobe, tucking myself deep in the hung-up shirts and blazers, trying to minimise myself beyond the realm of possibility.
Roman is going to find me in his cupboard, and my plan will be ruined. It’s one thing for my insane plan to make me need to move after I complete it, butfailing?
Trying to calm my panicked breaths, I wait, listening intently as Roman moves through his apartment. Footsteps draw closer, and I squeeze my tote tight to my chest, screwing my eyes shut, as if it will magically make me invisible.
He stops outside the wardrobe, and I bite my lower lip, trying to be the most silent thing that ever silent-ed.
Moments pass as I squirm on the precipice of certain disaster.
The wardrobe opens, and he sticks an arm in, feeling for something. His fingers graze against the clothes beside me, only inches from my face.
‘Where is it?’ he grumbles. The closeness of his voice freezes me, tension pulsing through my limbs.
‘Ah!’ He yanks on a hoodie, setting it free from the coat hanger and pulls it from the wardrobe without a second glance. The door closes, and I practically implode with stress.
Too close.
Yet… excitement melds with fear at the idea of him catching me. What would he do?
Call the police, you ninny.
Maybe I could convince him to punish me instead?—
Like fuck. You wish.
It takes another fifteen minutes of lurking in the darkness like a gremlin for him to leave. Extracting myself is tricky with the way my thighs protest having held my crouched position too long.
I don’t hang about.
SIX
ROMAN
‘It’s notthat sex is bad, per se; it’s just that life without it brings a clarity that transcends the experience. I’m not going to lie, sex is fun. I’m human, so the cravings hit me as hard as anyone else, but I choose not to give my time and energy to the pursuit of sex. Good sex lasts for an evening, but how much time do we spend in the chase?—’
