Volatile Obsessions by Dee Garcia (34)

Glued to my couch with wine goblet in hand, I’d been reading and re-reading that damned text for over ten minutes.

Not forty-eight hours had passed since I last saw him, and here he was, seeking me out yet again.

Worst part? I wanted to respond, too.

Sighing, I took another long sip from my glass, draining it in entirety. There wasn’t enough wine in the world to deal with this dilemma. Hell, even the stronger shit wouldn’t help at this point.

I didn’t know what else to do.

The man was immune to rejection and I was driving myself mad trying to keep him away.

Because you’re not really rejecting him...

It’s true, I wasn’t. I knew it, he knew, even you know it. As convincing as I tried to make myself out to be, we all knew I was only playing myself...

Which led me to wonder what would happen if I let myself indulge once?

Just once.

Nothing I’d done up this moment had worked, so perhaps giving in to this obsession would aid us in working each other out of our systems.

Yeah, okay.

I groaned at the sheer ridiculousness of my thoughts. Who was I kidding? Indulging would only worsen the problem.

My phone pinged again.

And again.

And again.

Dropping my gaze to my lap, I read the new messages now displayed on my screen.

Every text hurdled me back and forth between livid and frenzied. The man was not easily deterred and it was becoming more and more impossible to say no. I had so many other pressing matters to be worrying about, like Phantom 2.0, that I wasn’t sure how much more energy I could put into holding the door closed on Rome’s face.

Ugh.

My eyes drifted back to the screen, re-reading the last text.

I could do with a smoke...

Call it a crazy spur of the moment decision, or maybe I was willing to take advantage of the man for my own selfish reasons, but with a muttered “fuck it,” I typed out a quick, one-line message and sent it before I could give myself the chance to overthink it.

His reply came within minutes.

Shit.

What the hell had I just gotten myself into?

Flying off the couch, I raced down the hallway to my room and scrambled into the closet like a lunatic. I’d gone from zero to one-hundred in seconds flat. Completely frazzled, I couldn’t find anything to wear, mostly because everything I had was either too provocative or what I wore to work.

Storming back into my room, I ripped through my dresser and decided to go with black sweatpants. A simple white t-shirt. I threw my hair up in a messy bun, too, and kept my face as make-up free as possible.

Small wing, a bit of mascara, and a nude lippie.

I was out the door shortly after that, nervously sliding into the G-class.

If Suki and Ramsey found out I was doing this, they’d hold it against me forever. I still hadn’t heard the end of the Vybe ordeal or Halloween.

Twenty minutes later, I made it to the top of the Panorama, my steps much quieter in my Converse joggers than in my usual heels.

I was so quiet Rome didn’t notice me until I was mere feet away from him.

That sly grin tilted up one corner of his mouth as he pivoted toward me. “Hi there.”

“Hi.” I smiled weakly in return, trying not focus on the fact he was wearing those gray sweatpants again.

“You alright?” he asked.

The question caught me off guard, cocking my head backwards just slightly. “Yeah, why?”

Rome chuckled and motioned to where I stood. “You said we needed to talk.

“Oh, yeah.” Fucking relax, Lux. “It won’t take long.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’ve got time.”

I felt my cheeks heat in slight embarrassment. “Shall we sit then?”

Nodding, Rome sunk down against the ledge and patted the spot beside him. “Shall we smoke?”

“Please,” I stressed, dropping down beside him, leaving a somewhat safe distance between us. “It’s been a hell of a long few weeks.”

“I’m going to take a guess I have something to do with it?” he asked, pulling out a small pipe and a ziplock bag with at least three grams of bud from his pocket.

“Yes and no.”

“How does that work? It’s either yes or no.”

I didn’t know how to answer.

He’d already sworn to me the stalker was very much real and not just a ploy to get me alone, but Phantom 2.0 was no where to be found…

“Were you truly honest about the stalker?” I blurted out, keeping my eyes on what he was doing rather than him.

“I told you that night at Vybe—yes. Why?”

“My boys can’t seem to find him or any information about him.”

“Your boys?” The slight hint of jealousy in his voice prompted me to snap my gaze up to his face.

“Roscoe and Vic,” I explained hurriedly. “Roscoe is head of security. Vic acts as a personal assistant of sorts, or well, he used to be.”

“Used to?”

I nodded. “We’re not really on speaking terms these days. He’s been rather MIA, too.”

“I see,” he said simply, passing me the pipe and a lighter. “You get greens, love.”

Taking the proffered paraphernalia, I held the pipe up to my lips and flicked the lighter, bringing the flame up to the end and sucking in a drag.

All the while, those blue eyes, curious as ever, regarded me throughout.

I instantly regretted inhaling so deeply. Whatever the strain was, it was strong as hell, the mass cloud of smoke catching roughly in my throat. I let it go with a quickness but still found myself nearly coughing up a lung, to which Rome grinned and shook his head. His expression was both delighted and a little surprised.

“Rookie cough,” he joked, tucking everything back into his pockets.

I took another quick hit and passed it off, blowing this one out—thankfully—without incident. “I don’t smoke often. Plus, it’s strong as fuck.”

“Sure, blame it on the bud.”

“I’m serious,” I squeaked, shoving his arm playfully.

Me, squeaking, being playful.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Rome must’ve clocked on to my unease because he doubled back on the conversation. That, or our little moment made him anxious as well. “So back you were saying… Stalker. Your men can’t find him?”

“No.” I shook my head. “He’s another you—a ghost. Phantom 2.0.”

“Phantom, huh?” He smirked.

Cocky ass.

“The Phantom Menace,” I corrected him.

Chuckling, he shook his head. He didn’t seem at all fazed by my jab, his smirk darkening all the more as he lifted the pipe to his lips and took another hit.

I watched him, completely entranced—the way he took a pull, how he tipped his head back before letting it go. It was all just so fluid...so sexy.

“I can assure you he’s not a ghost,” he exhorted through his puff, blowing out a few perfectly shaped O’s. “He’s very much real, and he sounded highly determined to get to you.”

“Again, kind of like you.”

Rome grinned slyly. “Pretty much.”

My stomach whirled.

This was all so chill it bordered on bizarre.

I actually wanted to be here with him.

Swallowing down such realizations, I laid my head back against the ledge and curled up my knees, hugging them to keep myself grounded. “What exactly did you overhear him saying again?”

“I didn’t catch all of it. Really only paid attention once I heard your name. Said something about paying you the visit you deserved.”

“What did he look like?”

“About my height, maybe a tad shorter. Fade. Tanned skin.”

I scoffed a laugh, eyes glued to the dark sky above us. “I’ll never find him—there’s a million of those in Miami. ”

Typical fuck boys.

“We’ll find him,” Rome assured me, that one little word snapping my head toward him with such speed, I nearly gave myself whiplash.

“We?” I hedged.

“I can help.” He shrugged casually. “That is, if you want me to.”

“Enemies don’t usually help one another,” I pointed out.

“They also don’t do this, but fuck it. Come here…”

“Where is here?”

Rome crooked a finger, pointing it almost on himself. “Right here. Come closer.”

And I did, without my usual hesitations.

He said fuck it, right?

Leaning in closer, I broke through his personal space like he wanted, bursting my own now barely withstanding bubble in the process. The heat radiating off him wrapped around me as he lit the pipe and went in for the kill.

I should’ve been expecting it, but God, when his lips pressed flush against mine, they seared me.

His fingers clasped around my chin as he blew the cloud of smoke in my mouth, slowly, teasing my lips in between.

It was some hellish type of heaven.

My eyes fell shut through his gentle assault and I found myself having to stifle down the moan that threatened to break free, my entire body buzzing to life at the simple feel of his skin on mine.

Light-headed, heart thundering, I pulled back, breezily blowing out what remained of his puff, and tried to collect myself.

To move away from him.

But all too quickly, I found him even closer, shattering what little remained of my resolve. His minty breath was hot against my skin as his lips ghosted along my cheek. And then he was kissing again, hand cupping the back of neck to keep me in place. I couldn’t stop him if I wanted to, opening for him as he deepened the kiss.

“I want you, Lux,” he mumbled against my lips, attempting to pull me into his lap. “I want a truce.”

“What?” I eased back on a single breath.

“I want a truce,” he repeated, holding my stare. “I meant it when I said it; I don’t want Miami if you’re not part of the package.”

“Rome, I...” I didn’t know what to say.

A truce changed everything.

If he wasn’t against me then that meant…

“Please. Give me a chance to prove myself to you. Give me a chance to prove to you how badly I need you. How badly I fucking crave you.”

My subconscious was screaming ‘yes,’ all but belting it from the rooftop for him to hear, but the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

“You’re killing me,” I somehow managed, barely containing the smile quirking my lips.

“I’m dead already, trust me. If I can have you, though, a motherfucker might just rise from hell,” he quipped.

And there went my smile.

My cheeks flushed along with it.

That pesky question I’d been dwelling on came racing back to the forefront of my mind.

What would happen if I let myself indulge once? Just once.

“You get one chance,” I blurted, “and it stays between us.”

“Sooo truce?” He grinned, holding a hand out to me.

I observed it before a split-second before leisurely slipping my palm in his.

“Truce.”