♫ Carousel - Melanie Martinez ♫
That kiss. That electrifying, inebriating kiss. His lips devouring mine. So warm and demanding.
It was on replay.
Wet mouths.
Haunting me…
Frantic hands.
Enticing me…
Dueling tongues.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Even now, as the scalding shower pelted my face, all I could focus on was the way Roman’s mouth nearly devoured me.
He would have for sure had I not left when I did.
Truthfully speaking, I think he did regardless because I could still feel every bit of it diverging through my body.
Just one taste, Lux—quick and painless.
That moment right there, the one where he first put his lips on me without abandon…
That’s what I felt most.
Electrifying my fingertips, burning up my neck.
Searing my lips.
My nipples puckered at the reminder, the warm rivulets of water running down my breasts clinging to each rigid peak.
I squeezed a small globe in each hand to wane off the sharp bite and threw my head back.
Eyes shut.
Heart palpitating.
If this is what he could do to me with a kiss alone, imagine what he could do…
Fuck.
That image was hazardous.
I shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts, shouldn’t be thinking about him, period, but I couldn’t stop.
Didn’t know how.
He’d left a whole new mark on me, and I didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
Was there even anything I could do?
No, probably not.
I mean, I hadn’t done a very good job at running him out of Miami thus far, so how in the ever-loving fuck was I supposed to stop this?
Whatever this was…
The remainder of my shower continued on in the same torturous fashion. By the time I stepped out and reached for my towel, the space between my thighs was throbbing.
Aching.
Begging for relief.
I considered it for all of two-point-five seconds, eyeing my nightstand where B.O.B laid to rest, but all too quickly I realized indulging in this manic, lust-driven episode would only reiterate the fact Roman had managed to settle himself deep under my skin.
Nope.
No way.
Not happening.
There’s no way I could touch myself with his blasted face entrained in my mind and not be a ruined mess after the fact.
Nope.
Hell the fuck no.
It was bad enough as it is.
Cursing him to hell and back, I finished drying myself off and padded into my closet with the damp towel now wrapped around my body. Every single article of clothing was whipped from one side of the rack to the other as I searched for something to wear, the angry scrape of metal on metal a tell-tale sign of my frustration.
I couldn’t decide whether I was more angry with him or myself.
How daft could I be to let him put his lips on me?
I should’ve run when he got too close. Hell, I should’ve run the second I deduced what his intentions were.
Could’ve spared myself from all this nonsense. But no, of course not, because I was an idiot.
A masochist, too, evidently.
As the last blouse joined the rest of my wardrobe, I groaned aloud in defeat and stomped to my bed, falling onto my back in a disheveled heap.
What the hell is wrong with me?
No, seriously, what the hell was wrong with me? Why was I letting a man, a man whom I loathed no less, have this inexplicable effect over me?
Because you don’t really hate him…
Right as the ridiculous thought crossed my mind, my phone began blaring on the nightstand. I shot up with a gasp and snatched it with a quick hand, thankful for the perfectly timed distraction like never before.
“Hey Rams,” I answered, keeping my voice as even and unsuspecting as possible.
The last thing I needed was for her to pick up on my crazy and start another round of twenty-one questions.
“What are your plans for the hurricane?”
The blurted query caught me off guard, contorting my face in confusion. “What do you mean what are my plans?”
“Like, where are you staying?” she clarified.
“Um, in my flat?” I answered, though it sounded more like a question.
Ramsey gasped just slightly, a loud clatter arising in the background behind her.
Sounded like dishes clashing in the sink.
“Are you insane? You’re in a high-rise!” she squeaked, and I rolled my eyes, clutching my towel as I rose onto my feet.
“And? Your point?”
“It’s not safe, L. Those buildings sway with high winds. Not to mention you’re surrounded by windows, windows that won’t be protected.”
“I understand that but, I don’t really have much of a choice,” I chuckled, wandering back into my closet. “It’s not like I have family I can hunker down with. I’ll be fine.”
“No, you won’t,” she deadpanned. “It’s a big storm, Lux—you’re coming with me.”
“Where?” I was intrigued to say the least, rummaging through my wardrobe once more.
“To this hurricane party Marco invited me to.”
“Marco, as in Stryker’s mate?”
“Yup.” She popped the P, whipping my head back in disbelief.
“Since when do you talk to Marco?”
“Since the other night when I showed up at Vybe and he was there.”
And where was I?
If it was within the last week, probably obsessing over Roman…
“Does this mean Stryker and Suki will be there, too?” I hedged, swallowing down the abrasive lump in my throat as those vicious thoughts of our kiss plagued me yet again.
“No actually,” Ramsey snickered. “Suki’s staying at Stryker’s.”
I heard the words, both my mouth and eyes popping in surprise, but it took several moments for what the full extent of that statement meant.
She was staying with Stryker and she hadn’t told me?
“What?! When did this happen?”
“I don’t know. She literally just told me about ten minutes ago when I called her to ask if she wanted to come with.”
My hand clenched around one of my little black dresses. “You called her before me?” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice.
“L, c’mon—don’t take it personal. Shit, I don’t and you two leave me out of a lot,” she countered, ripping what sounded like a paper towel free from the kitchen roll.
“We do not,” I blurted out, yanking my dress off the hanger.
“Yes, you do, but that’s okay. You’ve known her forever. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” I could almost see her shrugging. “Not the point, though…are you coming or do I have to drag you?”
Sighing, I set the phone on speaker and tossed it on my bed.
“Where is this supposed party?” I questioned, dropping my towel as I pulled out a pair of panties from my nightstand and shimmied into them.
“I don’t know, somewhere near Star Island which means plenty of space, lots of booze, and a good time.”
“You really want to stay at some random house for God knows how many hours?”
“It’s better than your flat or my shit hole in Carol City. Besides, if Marco is going, I’m sure that means whoever’s throwing this shit must be cool people.”
Somehow, I doubted that. Cool people didn’t exist nowadays. Our world was beyond fucked up, humanity included. Most people—myself included—had cruel intentions.
Sad, but true.
“We’ll check it out,” I conceded doubtingly, “but I’m not making any promises. One measly bad vibe and I’m out of there, you hear me? I don’t care if it’s raining a tsunami outside, I’m leaving.”
Now had I only stood my ground and held onto the already festering bad vibe roiling my gut, I could have avoided what I would later deem the night the devil finally possessed me.