Instead, I stayed. Eventually, he relaxed and his breaths evened out.
I could probably gaze at that man forever. That realization should’ve sent me running from his bedside.
But my body was a traitor, like always.
His hand was still wrapped around mine, and I shifted slightly, trying not to wake him as I got more comfortable. I was so tired and I laid my head down on the edge of the bed.
I listened to Roman’s breathing, steady and rhythmic.
My mind was drifting off, teetering on the edge of oblivion, when Roman’s gruff, soft voice whispered into my ear.
“I might want to keep you too.”
18
Palmer
Iwokewithastart.
My head snapped up; my eyes darted around the unfamiliar room, heart thudding. For a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. I squinted at the light, my body bent in an uncomfortable position.
Then I saw Roman.
He was lying on the bed beside me, closer than I remembered. He must have shifted toward me; his face was only inches away. The warm brush of his breath ghosted over our entwined hands.
I was still sitting on the floor beside the bed, fully dressed, my side pressed awkwardly against the mattress. My neck throbbed when I moved, a dull ache spreading down my spine from sleeping at the wrong angle.
I should have gone to my room hours ago.
The lamp cast a soft glow across the room. Roman’s features were softer in sleep; his dark hair fell across his forehead, and my fingers ached to push it back.
But I didn’t. I needed to get out of here before I actually did something embarrassing like that.
Carefully, I tried to slide my hand out of his.
His fingers tightened instantly.
Biting my lower lip, I stared down at our hands. It would be so easy to stay. To sit here a little longer and pretend this quiet moment meant something more than it did.
I had to go.
Slowly, I twisted my wrist and tried again, easing my hand back. Roman’s grip was stubborn even in sleep, but eventually his fingers loosened enough for me to pull away.
The moment I slipped free, Roman shifted.
My stomach dropped as his eyes fluttered open, heavy and unfocused. I winced.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
He blinked at me, groggy and disoriented.
“Where are you going?” His voice was a low rasp.
The sound of it made the muscles low in my stomach coil.
“I-I should go to my own room,” I stammered.
His brows pulled together, as if he were about to argue. I thought he might tell me to stay.
