Fuck.
He absolutely can’t eat two. I couldn’t put one cookie in the bag, it would look weird, but I didn’t anticipate him wanting more than one immediately. Not with abs like a fucking washboard. People like that don’t eat more than one cookie at a time.
Right?
‘No!’ I say, the panic audible.
Roman’s brows knit as he lowers the cookie back into the bag. ‘What?’
‘It’s just…’ I start, taking a step toward him and crossing the threshold into his apartment, and he takes a step back, confusion narrowing his eyes. His step falters, his shoulder bumping against the wall. ‘You can only eat one.’
‘Why?’ He asks, looking from the bag of cookies to my face.
‘I don’t want you to overdose.’ Another step closer brings a further stumble back from him. The brown bag drops from his fingers to the floor, and he looks at his hand, trying to figure out what’s going on.
‘On what? Chocolate chips?’
‘No.’ I close his door behind me, leaning back against it and watching as the sedatives get to work. ‘On the sedatives I put in them.’
‘What?’ His voice thickens as he stares at me. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘Unfortunately not.’
In a flash, he flies toward me, his hand on my throat as he pins me back against the wall. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
My throat bobs against his fingers, fear making me doubt myself. Had I used enough? His grip tightens, and I quake beneath him.
‘Talk, Maggie.’ His words slur as he speaks. I hope the sedatives kick in fully before he chokes the life out of me, or has the sense to call the authorities.
‘Can’t,’ I mutter, my voice restricted by his hold on my throat. His eyes search mine, caution in every golden fleck. Despite my precarious situation, I can’t help but blush at his closeness. The way he overpowers me and pins me to the wall with one hand.
I’m a sucker for it.
For him.
And he’s going to hate me.
Loosening his grip slightly, he lets me breathe enough to talk.
‘I’m sorry, it’s just I have my dad’s wedding, and if I go home alone, he’s going to make me marry Eddie. I can’t marry Eddie because he’s my creepy, weirdo ex who likes killing people far too much, which sounds crazy, I know, but my family aren’t like anormalfamily…’ I witter on in a deluge of panicked chat, my words tumbling over one another as Roman’s eyes glaze. From boredom or the sedatives, I couldn’t tell.
‘You drugged me to take me to a wedding?’ Hisbreath is hot against my cheek, and I nod. ‘Why not just ask me like a regular fucking person?’
‘You wouldn’t have said yes.’
He doesn’t even argue that he would have. I try not to let the sting affect me.
Roman’s body sags forward against me, pinning me beneath it, his hand sliding down from my neck to my chest. Not in any sexy way. More in a couldn’t-control-his-muscles way.
Still, the hot neighbour was practically cupping my tit. What’s a girl to do but feel a little bit flustered?
‘Might…have…’ The words sound distant, strained, like it’s taking all of his focus to haul them up to his lips.
With a thump, he slides to his knees before keeling over. I manage to catch him just before he bashes his pretty face on the floor. Lowering him down, I roll him onto his back and kneel beside him, brushing dark hair from his eyes.
‘I really am sorry about this,’ I say, reaching out to press two fingers to the pulse point in his neck. Steady. Good. His eyes flick to mine, the sedatives leaving him awake but paralysed. Safer for him. More awkward for me. ‘If I’d had any other choice, I would have taken it. Now, you lie here and chill a bit while I go pack your bag. I’ve already sorted you out a tuxedo for the big day, but you’ll need some clothes and toiletries for the rest of the week.’
Roman’s eye gives the slightest twitch.
