He didn’t hold back, but he didn’t push forward either. He let her set the pace of their hands, tongues. He followed her lead. She toyed with the edge of his shirt, that war inside her becoming apparent once again.
There was a lesson he’d learned early when it came to war. Everyone thought a war was about how hard you fought, but a good solider understood that war was about so much more than that. Winning a war was about understanding your comrades. Staying in tune with the developments. Anticipating, but being flexible.
So when Sadie lightened the intensity, he followed her back down, ending the hottest kiss of his life with a peck on the side of her mouth. “Call me when you get home?”
“Is this your ploy to get me to return your call?” Her hand paused against his chest.
“I just want to be sure you make it okay.” That was the truth.
“I’lltextyou when I get home.”
She drove a hard bargain. “I can live with that.”
She left and Roman sucked down another gulp of water, balanced the glass on his chest, and closed his eyes. Only for a little bit. He’d head to his actual bed as soon as he got the message that she’d made it home.
“Rome?” Sadie pounded on the door.
He sat up entirely too quickly, water spilling all over the front of his shirt.
“Rome?” Sadie pounded more. She didn’t sound like Sweet Sadie. No, she sounded like Pissed-as-All-Hell Sadie. What had he done?
He opened the door, and yup, there was one pissed-off Sadie.
“There is no air in my tires,” she said as though she were accusing him, even though he knew for a fact that he hadn’t moved from the couch until that very moment.
“I swear I didn’t leave the apartment—”
“I know you didn’t leave. Where’s your grandmother?”
“Uh…”
Sadie made a gurgle sound.
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Roman waved her inside again. “Since it’s three a.m., you can stay here.” Problem solved. He was a grown-ass adult with his very own bed and sofa and lots of surfaces for friends to sleep on.
She glowered. “Isn’t that exactly what your grandmother wants? A sleepover?”
“Probably.” This had the scent of Babushka all over it. “But we’ll show her.”
“How’s that?’
“We won’t even have sex.”
Sadie’s lips parted. “I don’t even know what to do with you right now.”
“I’ll show you the bedroom. You can pretend like I’m not even here. I’ll sleep on the couch. We’ll get brand new fancy air for your tires as soon as the air place is open.”
Sadie shook her head, but the edges of her mouth twitched with a smile.
He walked down the small hallway to the bedroom, flicked on the light, and thanked fuck he’d made his bed that morning.
He rummaged through his dresser, coming up with a pair of drawstring sweatpants and a T-shirt. He handed them to Sadie and grabbed a new—not wet—tee for himself.
The soaked cotton shirt removed, he started to yank the dry shirt on.
Sadie sucked in a loud breath. “Wait.”
Shirt stuck in limbo with one arm in, one arm out, he paused as Sadie stared at his bare chest like she wanted to lick every spare inch of him.
