I dragged my tongue along my bottom lip. “Just my girl.” I reached for her without hesitation, sliding my hands around her hips and pulling her against me.
She let out a small gasp, and my smile widened.
“I think you should dance with me.”
That predictable blush bloomed across her cheeks, and I had to fight the urge to kiss the spreading color.
“Roman,” she mumbled, glancing around the crowded hall apprehensively.
I only pulled her closer. Dipping my head, I leaned in so my mouth brushed her ear. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “but I’m not letting go of you.”
My arms tightened around her waist. “I think you’ve drawn the attention of every man in this room, and I want to make sure they understand that you aren’t available.”
She pulled back enough to look at me. “I’m not?” She blinked.
A low, disgruntled rumble worked its way up from my chest. I couldn’t tell whether she was teasing me or not.
“You’ve spent every night this week in my bed,” I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear. My hand slid to the small of her back, holding her close. “You’remine, Golden.”
39
Palmer
You’remine,Golden.
The words that came from Roman Ramsey’s mouth made my head spin.
I stared at him, relishing his hands holding me and the heat of his body sinking into mine.
Roman had been so busy this week. Not only was he working with his brothers and helping prepare for this very night, but healso had his position as fire chief to maintain. There wasn’t much free time left for each other, and what we did have was spent mostly in bed.
We hadn’t had the discussion of what Roman and I were. I hadn’t wanted to push it.
But now he was calling me his. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
He took my hand. “Come.”
He led me toward a small dance floor, where a few couples were swaying to the mellow music the DJ played.
A flutter of nerves raced through me. He really wanted to dance with me? I didn’t know how to dance.
My mind was scrambling for what to do when someone called my name.
I halted, pulling Roman to a stop, and he threw me an impatient look over his shoulder. He didn’t let go of my hand as I turned and found Stephen standing next to me.
His beard was trimmed and neater than usual, and he wore a nice button-down and black slacks.
I glanced around, nervous his wife, Kayla, was close, but I didn’t see her.
“Hey, Stephen,” I said cautiously. “How are you?”
He gave me a small smile, glancing up and down my dress quickly. “I’m good,” he said in a rush. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.” I grinned. “How’s Maverick?”
My heart did a little twinge, remembering the last time I’d seen him—how distraught he’d been, and the death glare Kayla had given me.
“That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.” Stephen adjusted his glasses. “I was able to talk Kayla into enrolling him at that nice school you recommended. He starts this spring.”
