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I manage to wedge my body in the door. My eyes scan for something to eat.

Cheese. I can reach the cheese.

I pull out the package.

A few minutes later, I'm sitting on the kitchen floor, handcuffed to Roman's refrigerator, eating slices of cheddar.

Honestly, I've had worse nights. Or technically, early mornings.

Footsteps sound. I look up.

Roman strides into the kitchen.

The cheese stops halfway to my mouth.

He's wearing nothing but a towel. A very low towel.

Water glistens across his chest. His dark hair is wet. A drop slides down his throat, over his chest, and down his stomach. It disappears beneath the towel.

I forget how to eat.

I’m no longer hungry. At least, not for cheese.

His gaze moves to the refrigerator, then the cheese in my hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I swallow, trying to remember how to speak.

“Having breakfast.”

His eyes close. “Callie.”

“Yes?”

He opens them.

“You’re the one who handcuffed me to the refrigerator.”

“That wasn't permission to eat my food.”

“It kind of was.”

“No, it fucking wasn't.”

“You left me unsupervised.”

“You're an adult.”

“Exactly. I’m twenty-six. Old enough to make my own snack decisions.”

His gaze drops to the cheese, then returns to my face. “Give me that.”

I hold the package against my chest. “No.”

His eyebrows lift. “Give me the cheese, Callie.”

“This is mine.” I look from the cheese to him. “You imprisoned me.”