Page 59 of Forever Cursed

My lips tilt upward, and I release a contented sigh. “And you are mine.”

Chapter Thirty

Chrissy

I’m his.

I never belonged to anyone before. My heart was always mine. I kept control and wouldn’t allow myself to fall headfirst because the love I sought was out of reach. Now I’m falling, and I know Rome won’t let me collide with the ground. He’ll catch me, hold me in his arms, and whisper reassuring words until I believe everything he says.

When he looks at me, it feels like he’s committing me to memory.

I reach out and trace my knuckles over his sculpted jawline. His breathing is relaxed, and his nose crinkles occasionally while he sleeps.

Contentment seeps into my muscles. I have him. I am his, and he is mine. The man who has plagued my mind for seven months is finally with me, and I couldn’t be happier. Everything is going in the direction I only dared wish it would. Zack was a massive bump in the road. At least, I thought he was going to be. Turns out he was a tiny obstacle, and our stubbornness was the biggest barrier. I don’t allow the worry of my curse to resurface and ruin the moment. I push it to the back of my mind.

Rome and I should have been up front with our feelings, acknowledged them, and spoken to Zack like the adults we think we are. Rome took the step while I cowered. I claim to be an adult who can make big-girl decisions, yet I haven’t made a single one yet. I have a lot of internal work I want to focus on, and I honestly think this is my first step.

The rain stopped pelting against the window about an hour ago. My body and mind are tired, but every time I close my eyes, I open them because I want to soak in this moment. I need to go to the bathroom though. I slip out of his bed, and chills coat my skin. Thankfully, Rome is a typical guy and he has clothes on his floor. I reach for a stray Castle Brook football jersey and do a quick sniff test. His natural musk and cologne fill my nostrils. I put it on and hurry toward his adjoining bathroom.

This was my first experience without a condom, and the first time anyone has ever come inside me. I’m not typically so reckless. Yes, I’m on the pill, but I follow precautions. The pill doesn’t protect me against STIs or STDs, and I don’t trust any of these college boys, except Rome. I don’t know for certain that he’s ever gone without protection, but I’m willing to bet the last thing he wants is to impregnate someone before he graduates. And I know he wouldn’t knowingly pass something onto me. Hell, it was my idea for him to finish inside me.

Before I finish peeing, I rake my hands across my scalp. Without looking in the mirror, I wash my hands and then stand there, unsure if I want to look at my reflection.

Be a big girl.

Inching my gaze upward, I meet my parallel self, and I do the unexpected. I smile at myself. My lips are swollen from kissing Rome. My cheeks are stained pink from all the blushing I did today. My hair is a mess, but when isn’t it? I move my gaze down, and my fingers dance along the stitching across the jersey. The number 35 is red, and the rest of the fabric is black. I turnaround and look over my shoulder. His last name is on my back, and I dare to imagine something out of character for me.

Chrissy Carter.

Has a nice ring to it . . .

I walk back into the bedroom. The carpet is warm under my feet, and a small smile spreads across my lips when I see Rome sleeping peacefully. My body is itching to curl up next to him, but my restless mind wants me to explore. I still don’t know much about the blond man across from me. Other than how his mom left him and his dad when he was eight. What was he like when he was a kid? What is his dad like? What does Rome do other than play football and eat food?

If Rome has a roommate, he’s either oblivious or not home. Rome and I barreled through the door without a care in the world, so I assume he doesn’t have a roommate because he wouldn’t do something like that.

I peer out of the bedroom before starting down the hall and running my hand along the wall. I note the lack of decor, but it doesn’t raise any flags. I wouldn’t expect him to have decorated. One, because he’s a man, and two, because he barely has free time. Especially with Malik being a shit leader.

The kitchen is quaint, nothing special. There’s no kitchen table or chairs, which makes sense if it’s just him living here. Strolling into the living room, I chuckle when I notice the gaming system and forty-two-inch TV. He has the same taste in video games as Gwen. Loads of zombie shooters, and wait... is that a farming simulator? Huh, I wasn’t expecting that.

I look at the bookshelf against the wall and zone in on the only picture in the apartment. An iron fist wraps around my heart when I focus on it. The woman has long golden hair and piercing green eyes. Her smile is wide, and she has a light trail of freckles over the bridge of her nose. The man has light brown hair, close to dirty blond. He has a neatly trimmed beardand looks at the woman with a loving expression. The boy is a perfect combination of his parents. His blond hair is messy, and he has his mother’s eyes. He’s smiling wide, showing a few missing baby teeth. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. If I were to guess, Rome is about seven in this picture. His mom would leave a year later, dismantling his family structure.

“There you are.” His voice is deep and soothing, still husky from sleep, making him sound even sexier.

“You look just like her.” I nod at the photo on the shelf before me without looking at him.

Silence fills the space; the only noise is his muffled footsteps as he approaches me. His shoulder brushes against mine, and a heavy sigh leaves his chest.

“What was she like?” I ask, being as careful as I can.

“She was . . . good. Until she left.”

A hint of resentment fills his tone, and I don’t blame him for it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. No one deserves to have their mother or father leave them without an explanation. I’m sure it still hurts. Not knowing why she left and dealing with that trauma.”

He doesn’t respond, but I can feel the tension radiating from his body.

I move my attention to his face. His jaw is clenched, and his cheeks are splotchy.

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