CHAPTER 14

GIGI TRACED A LAZY PATTERN over the black line of the sparrow and key tattooed on the side of Roman’s neck. Like the rest of his work, vibrant teal and red dominated the image. She knew intimately now that more than just his arms and neck bore vivid ink. While she collected art on her walls from the places and moments of her life, covering every square inch, he’d done the same with his body. He didn’t need to tell her why he collected tattoos the way he had. She knew. It was deeply personal and an unexpected connection. This link, this similarity—expressed on her walls rather than her body—is that what allowed him to understand what she didn’t say?

There were plenty of words drifting through her now that she swallowed down. Sitting here content in the afterglow had her questioning that silence. Was it too soon to tell him that she loved him? He’d said it this morning when they had sex, but not since. No response was required in that moment and everyone knew what you said in the throes of passion couldn’t be trusted. But if she said it now she had to worry about what it would mean if he said it back or worse—if he didn’t.

“You’re thinking hard about something.” The rumble of Roman’s chest against her cheek as he spoke felt like the best kind of heaven.

She could answer with the truth and let the chips fall, but no—she wasn’t ready to be hurt yet. Because he would. Not on purpose. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. She just needed her first and probably only taste of something good to last a little longer. She would do this relationship thing for as long as it lasted because it felt good. He would be her one lapse in judgment and when it was over, she’d retreat to the way it had always been.

Roman brushed a curl off her cheek with a work-calloused finger and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. The question was in his eyes. He wanted to know what she was hiding.

She’d give him the safe answer, but just as true. “Just thinking I want to go back to my place so we can spend the rest of the afternoon doing this.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? Took you a while to say it.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I’m not feeling rushed just at this moment.”

He smiled at that and his arms tightened around her. God, he had a great smile. Any woman with half a brain and a pulse would fall for it. She sure had.

“Why don’t you get dressed and go home.” He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Just a brush of his lips, but it set her blood on a slow simmer. “I’ve got to clean up my station and then I’ll ride over. Shouldn’t be far behind.”

Gigi slid off his lap to the floor and began gathering her discarded clothes. “I’ll stop and get something for us for lunch.” She dressed quickly and turned to find him pulling himself together. “Is there anything special you want? I’m thinking Chinese.”

“Orange chicken sounds good but I’d be happy with whatever.” He planted another random kiss on her lips—more of a smooch this time.

They were turning into a real couple. Once again, she marveled at her own peace with it. The fear that usually sat like a pit eating at her was suspiciously absent. Instead, her stomach fluttered with happy butterflies—traitor. She couldn’t afford to get used to this.

He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Before you go, we have to get you bandaged up. You’ll only have to keep it covered until you get home and can wash it properly. You’ve seen the care instructions.”

She nodded and allowed him to lead her by the hand back to his station. She held her tank top up for him and he lowered her waistband over her hips once more. He made short work of applying the plastic wrap and tape and then covered it with her clothing once more.

“Alright, get out of here so I can get this cleaned up.”

“Don’t be long,” she said in a sugar sweet tone that did not sound like her own voice. Crap—did that sound to needy? She may have allowed her pussy to lead her into a relationship but she didn’t want to become that girl.

He must have noticed her own wide-eyed shock at the words coming out of her mouth because he kissed her again and then smiled that crooked cocky ass grin. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I haven’t had enough of you yet.” Then he turned away to pick something up off his work bench and so quietly she almost assumed she was hearing things he said, “Not sure I ever will.”

Gigi stood in place, blinking in shock. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Maybe he did love her.

His voice broke through her stupor. “Go on or we’ll end up in my office next time.”

She shook her head and started for the door. “Who says I’m not looking forward to that?”

Sass—she left him with a mouthy reply, which was more like her than what Gigi had wanted to say—I love you. Roman’s remembered words buzzed along her exposed skin, raising it in goose flesh. They made her confession in her bedroom this morning feel insufficient. Even now, with takeout sitting on the seat beside her, all she wanted to do was throw herself at him the minute he came in the door and profess the feelings bubbling up inside of her. His words were like waking up. She’d been living in a daze and feeding her loneliness with empty sex.

If he really felt just like her this addictive ride didn’t have to end. Maybe she didn’t have to wait for the other shoe to drop. With this new perspective, a list formed. There was so much more she needed to make right. Once she confessed her feelings to Roman—regardless of anything he said—her mother filled the top priority. Her mother needed to know this kind of love existed out there. She couldn’t possibly know or she wouldn’t have stayed with their father for this long.

Gigi would straighten her out and then talk to Ann. She was less scared of Ann’s reaction to the broken promise if Roman really loved her. He said he’d never get enough of her. She hadn’t wanted to give that promise. Ann had dragged it out of her. Given the chance Gigi would break it again. She could do this. She could have a real successful relationship if she could just tell him she loved him. If she could just trust. Damn it—she finally wanted this.

Trust. Maybe she should trust Roman enough to let him in on the Chad situation. The idea felt like a dark cloud in her rosy horizon. Ann was the only one who knew. Gigi didn’t exactly have a lot of girlfriends to confide in. Maybe she should do that before the rest of her list. If their new relationship survived that, then the LOVE conversation and everything else would be okay. That sounded like the best plan: Chad, love, Ann and then her Mother.

Gigi turned into the tenant only parking behind her building. She parked beside an unfamiliar BMW. Either someone had company or there was a new tenant. Either way, something seemed familiar about that car. There was too much chatter in her mind to focus on placing it.

She grabbed the bag of takeout and then got out of her car. She’d made it two steps around the side of the building when she realized where she’d seen that car because its owner was leaning against the very door frame where Roman had kissed her and given her an orgasm in full view of the street.

Dick Pic—her own personal devil come to drag her back to purgatory—drove that car.

Newsflash—she wasn’t going.

Chad leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his polo shirt. Expensive sunglasses covered the glare she could feel but not see as he fixed on her approach with a scowl. It didn’t scare her. That was the face of a petulant child in a man’s body because he didn’t get what he wanted and what he wanted was her. What scared her was the fact that he knew where she lived. Looks liked she’d be getting that restraining order after all.

Gigi squared her shoulders and made for the door. “I told you I didn’t want to talk to you anymore. Go away.”

Before she could push past, Chad reached out and gripped her arm, pulling her to a stop. “And I said I wanted you. Your daddy said I could have you.”

“Fuck you. I do what I want.” For the second time today, a curse snuck out. She practically spat the words at him as though they were venom. This slip in her control had to stop and so did the games Chad tried to draw her into.

He leaned in, his overpowering cologne making her want to hurl on his shoes. “You already have, princess. Now you’re gonna do it again.”

Today felt like a goddamned miracle as far as Roman was concerned. He’d gained more ground with her in a handful of hours then he’d done in the previous week. The best part was that it wasn’t over. Now he meant to enjoy the groundwork of their relationship instead of pushing for more. She was waiting for him. Wanted him. It put fire in his step to get the cleanup done and break down his station so that he could get back to her. He just couldn’t leave the evidence of their sexcapade at the mirror for the guys to see. As it was he was going to be hard as a rock every time he walked past it to his office just thinking about taking her there.

His station was an easy enough break down. He had it done in no time. After wiping down the mirror and taking out the trash, he headed for the front. As he passed the reception desk a buzz rumbled from the direction of her computer. Retracing his steps, he spotted her enormous pink phone face down on the desk. Large as it was, the stupid thing might as well be a tablet. The fact that it wasn’t attached to her hand had him smiling. For her to have been so distracted that she forgot all about it told him just how well fucked she truly was.

Roman picked up the device to take it back to her and made it two steps towards the door when the technical monstrosity buzzed in his hand with a quiet ding. He looked down at the lit-up screen as the alert preview flashing on the lock screen.

Dick Pic: Where are you princess? I’m on my way over.

Hard plastic dug into his fingers. The dull pain radiated up his wrist, warning him to relax before he crushed the phone in his hand. Who was this asshole? Gigi swore she wasn’t seeing anyone but him. The cynical voice that took up residence in his psyche after Jessica offered one hell of an argument right now: anyone labeled something as crude as Dick Pic had to be a guy. He sure as shit wasn’t platonic.

Roman’s stomach twisted up with the sinking feeling taking root. He swore after Jessica there’d be no more playing games. Trust was all he’d asked Gigi for and she promised it—a promise that seemed to mean very little now. Maybe he’d handed his heart over too soon.

No—Gigi wasn’t like his ex. The intimacy, hard won as it had been, was more real than anything he’d thought he had with Jessica. The fact that Gigi gave it so grudgingly showed its worth. He’d asked her to trust him and not hide. He’d have to do the same and give her the chance to explain. But knowing that and feeling that were not the same thing.

Roman’s emotions dangled perilously close to the edge of reason—hanging on just enough for him to recognize the signs. His skin crawled with simmering anger that felt ready to burst from his fists as he fired up the bike. He’d have to get himself under control before he saw her or she’d never open up. Problem was he kept sticking on the last part of the message—I’m on my way over. This faceless asshole could be there now. The message had only been sent a few minutes before.

Attempting to imagine a scenario where this turned out anyway but bad made Roman’s mind stutter and did nothing to throttle back his mood. It also made the few blocks to her place fly by.

Roman stopped the bike at the red light on the corner.

Her building stood across the street and sure enough, Gigi was at the entrance. The expression on her face was a familiar one. Impatience and irritation—at first glance that attitude might have renewed his trust in his girl. It should have. The voice of doubt whispered another explanation. A lover’s quarrel. Maybe he called her out about Roman, inspiring her wrath. She crossed her arms in front of her breasts, hip cocked out as her toe tapped. Then he caught the sneer on the face of the Ken-doll looking jerk in a polo who seemed to be the focus of her wrath. The asshat from the day he met her—the one she claimed was nobody.

The right course would be to park the bike and break up whatever this was. Find out the truth first hand instead of being a voyeur. What he should do versus what he wanted to do—that was the trouble. Did he know what he wanted? To be anywhere but here. For none of this to be happening and for frat boy not to exist.

The preppy douche reached out, gripping Gigi’s arm. She snapped something at him and Roman could see him answer. Then he shoved Roman’s girl back against the doorframe. She gasped as the forgotten bag of takeout slipped from her fingers and hit the ground at her feet. The douche crowded into her space, kicking it out of the way, as he covered her mouth with his.

Roman’s pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the traffic around him as it screamed out the rage in his heart. It narrowed the focus of his world down to where her lips met someone else’s. In that second, he knew how little he’d loved Jessica. This feeling—this icy stab in his chest that seemed to cause a part of him to wither and die as if it had been frost bitten—watching a kiss that was so deceptively innocent in comparison to a blow job in a back room affected him so much more. The wound Jessica inflicted had been nothing more than a paper cut in comparison.

A car behind him honked. The world rushed back in, the woosh of sound deafening in his altered state of pain. The light turned green. He was holding up traffic to watch Gigi tear out his heart. He revved the engine and tore off, leaving her to enjoy whatever the fuck that was.

For a few brilliant hours, Gigi made him believe. Thirty seconds recolored every word that came from her lips. Her reluctance that made Roman believe the world was rose colored, now read gray with lies. It made the emotional bullet wound in his gut burn that much deeper. A bullet wound and a frostbitten heart. Served him right for playing with love, the gun had a mean kickback.

Pink’s an ugly fucking color anyway.