Page 29 of Romeo vs Romeo

Roman tensed. He licked his lips and nodded. It was like he could smell trouble. “Sure. If you think we need to.”

“I need to,” I said. He was the only one I could admit this to simply by virtue of being the person I admitted things to without losing my mind. I liked Roman. I’d go as far as to say I trusted him.

Roman had more of his horrible water, saying that was exactly what he needed after last night’s drinking, and got up. “My place?”

I nodded. It was as good as any, so long as nobody could overhear the fact that I was one of the Langleys they all hated. Fears rose from my stomach. They tightened around my throat as I followed Roman out of the bar and across the street.

On the way up, Roman explained that Tristan was likely to sleep over at Cedric’s place because it was much bigger and way more private. Some guy called Lane had football practice,and his roommate was probably in the library. “Nobody’s gonna bother us,” he finished.

I was grateful that Roman understood my need for privacy, although it was clear that we were anticipating a different sort of conversation by the time we entered his room. Roman shut the door and flicked on the lamps instead of the ceiling light. The room was softly lit, subdued, and warm, and it was cleaner than it had been the night before. I noticed that the back of his chair no longer hosted a pile of clothes, including his sexy underwear.

“I wanted to say…” I choked up and sat on the edge of his bed without being invited. It occurred to me a moment too late, but by then, Roman sat next to me.

To his credit, Roman waited, but my thoughts got so jumbled up in my head that they couldn’t translate into words. I had gone through all the ways I could tell him who I was, from doing a long speech to prepare him to ripping it off quickly, and none came to me now.

So Roman shifted a little to face me and took over. “I was drunk last night, Everett. People do things without thinking when they get drunk. Look, I won’t pretend I don’t find you crazy hot. I’d jump on that opportunity in a heartbeat. But if you have any concerns, you should just tell me. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

My lips parted, and I looked into his eyes. That? But I had told him it was fine.

“I was worried today when you didn’t show up,” Roman admitted, tossing his head dismissively. “I thought I scared you off. But it was a moment of weakness, and if it crossed the line, you just tell me, and I’ll be more careful. I can guarantee that I can control myself.” There was a touch of irony in his voice at the end there, as if he was an untamable beast. Perhaps he was, but I liked that fire in him.

“It was a good kiss,” I said, my voice a little rough. “I liked it a lot.” My face heated up. I shifted uncomfortably, flustered and feeling like I might start to sweat at any moment. This bubbling excitement surged in me whenever I flirted with the thought of men, and in the case of this particular man, there was no stopping the flutters that leaped from my stomach. They were everywhere inside of me. “I think you’re hot.”

“Oh?” He masked his surprise with something like flirtatious cheekiness. “And you’re saying it aloud.”

I shrugged. “What’s the point in pretending? All it ever got me was a bad case of depression.”

Roman put his hand on mine where it rested on my knee. “I hear you. It sucks, but that’s sadly very normal for boys like us.”

“Boys like us,” I whispered, looking at our hands on my knee. I lifted my gaze and looked into his eyes again. There they were; I found my balls. I found some courage at long fucking last. “For the gays.”

“Yep,” Roman said unabashedly. Softening his tone a bit, he allowed a small smile to touch the corners of his lips. “It gets better. Every day, you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin. And before you know it, you can’t understand how you ever put up with other people’s bullshit.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to put up with it anymore, Rome. I’m sick of hiding it from myself, and I’m sick of being scared to say the words that are on my mind. I like you. I think you’re sexy when you grin.” He grinned on cue, making my heart stumble. “I think you’re really hot when you get all angry and flustered. I like your eyes. They’re the color of electricity.” I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded right. Or maybe I made a total fool of myself speaking nonsense, but Roman’s dimples popped when I said it. “And I like your dimples.” My hand cupped his cheek, and a thumb brushed over that adorable spot. He didn’t pull away from me, and I didn’t act with the kindof revolt that would have controlled me a month ago. Nothing about him was repulsive to me. It was time I told him so. And maybe he was right; maybe hatred was an attractive force, but I didn’t want to be attracted to him through hatred. That was cheap. He deserved better. “And I like your lips. They’re soft and warm when you kiss me.” My thumb feathered his lips lightly, my whole hand sliding down to hold his neck. “And this…holding you like this, it makes me crazy with…with desire.”

Roman’s eyes widened, a clash of mischief and lust playing out on his face.

I held his throat and brought my face closer to him. I could feel his warm breath on my skin. I steadied myself and acted as if I had all the bravery this required. “That night when you took your shirt off, I wanted to devour you, Roman. I wanted to make you mine, and I blew it.” My hand descended from his throat to his collarbones, part of my palm resting on his cotton T-shirt, the other part feeling his heated skin.

“It’s never too late,” Roman said, almost daring me to take him.

“I’m sick of pretending,” I said, anger gathering on the ages of my consciousness like distant clouds heralding a terrible storm. It was just that this storm didn’t have to be terrible. I could change it around. I could channel it and use it for something so much better instead. “I want you, Roman. Your body, your muscles, your fury. I want you to give it to me.” My voice was a husky whisper as I forced myself to tell him this. Although I hadn’t told him the single thing I had meant to tell him, I hadn’t failed at telling him the truth. “I want to make you mine.”

Roman shuddered. “Oh, fuck,” he said, almost like some invisible dam had collapsed, and nothing stopped him anymore. He leaned in, practically melting into me, and slammed his lips against mine.

His hand clasped the back of my neck in a rough, manly grip, and my fist closed around his T-shirt like the first time we’d met, but I had no intention of fighting him.

I kissed him back. It was nothing like kissing a girl, or I had kissed those girls the wrong way. Before, I would try to be gentle. Not with Roman. This was everything but gentle. This was fiery and furious. This was passionate and rough. We kissed with our lips parting wider, his tongue slipping into my mouth. It gave me a bolt of shock that fueled my motions. As if competing with him, I thrust my tongue into his mouth in turn, partly in disbelief that I did it.

The flush that had rushed through me some minutes ago intensified. I knew I was red and heated, but I didn’t care.

We grappled, our heads pressed together, our breaths short and powerful, making out in something that looked like a fight.

We kissed harder, faster, our breaths growing more heated. My body thrummed with the need to have him. I wanted to see him naked. I wanted to gaze at his wiry, masculine figure, his chiseled abs, his sculpted arms, his rounded pecs, and his small, brown nipples. I wanted to let my gaze explore him lazily as he touched himself, one firm, roughened hand gripping his cock.

I kissed him in a way that would have seemed impossible last night. Back then, I had been an unassuming and fearful creature, the real me hiding behind someone else’s sense of decorum. No more. If I was possessed by demons, I wanted to go down with pleasure. I wanted to burn up while kissing Roman.

He pulled back and looked into my eyes. “Say that again.”

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