Page 17 of Stick Fight

His T-shirt barely covering my backside.

Oh.

“Uh, Gabs,” His voice comes out strangled. “Why don’t I carry that suitcase to your room for you.”

I shoot upright so fast I nearly black out. “Thanks.” I grab my kit, power walk to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Then I lean against it for a solid five seconds, staring at the ceiling.

Once again, I wonder what is happening in my life?

Shaking it off, I get to work, brushing my teeth, moisturizing and finishing with my trusty, cotton candy flavored lip mask. After all, hydrated plump lips are important. Not that I’ll be using them anytime soon.

My kissing days are over.

Forever.

Okay, maybe not forever, but at least until I figure out where I’m going to live, how I’m going to salvage my career, and, oh yeah, find a man I can actually trust.

Let’s be real. Those last two things. Probably never going to happen.

I put my things away and quietly open the door to near darkness. The soft glow from the bedroom light spills across the room, catching on the broad line of Roman’s back as he makes up the pullout bed. My heart gives a dangerous squeeze. I always knew he was funny and playful and sweet, but this… this goes beyond friendship. This is more. Honestly, it’s messing with my head.

He glances over his shoulder, and the smile that curls at his lips hits me right between the legs. God, maybe Ididdrink too much. Except, as I stare at the ridiculously hot man standing a few feet away, I feel alarmingly sober.

“All done,” I say. “Do you need help?”

He fluffs the pillow with one hand. “Nope, all good,” he says, voice low and quiet. “Go get some sleep.”

Following the channel of light from the bedroom, he walks to his dresser and pulls out some clothes. I head toward the bedroom, and as he slides past me, his scent—a sinful mix of soap and something so uniquely Roman—wraps around me and lingers long after he closes the bathroom door. My heart’s doing something weird in my chest. Like,really weird.

I wander over to the sofa bed and sit down, running my hands over the surface.

Hard. Lumpy.

Damn.

I could protest again, but we both know it’d fall on deaf ears. Stifling a yawn, I head into the bedroom and find my luggage neatly placed on the wooden stand, zipped tight. The clothes I’d packed for my wedding night are out of sight. Out of mind. Hopefully. Idostill have the scissors, but Roman’s right. Big decisions shouldn’t be made when your heart is in a blender.

The carpet’s scratchy beneath my feet as I cross to the bed. My phone and a bottle of water—the last one from the fridge—sit on the nightstand. The covers are even pulled down.Jeez, Roman really thought of everything.

Body tired, mind scrambled, I flop down onto the bed and resist the urge to check my phone. Cass doesn’t deserve to hear from me tonight. Not after cheating and then threatening me. My finger hovers over the screen as it lights up, but I ignore it and pinch my eyes shut.

The only thing I want to think about right now is Roman… in the shower.

What?

Wait, no. That’s not what I meant. I do not want to think about Roman…in the shower.

Sure, girlfriend. Keep telling yourself that.

Oh, shut up.

Right, because I have no business feeling anything. He’s my friend. Except friends don’t make you feel like your skin is on fire from nothing more than a glance. It’s the wine. It has to be.

Or maybe…

Yeah, I know. I can’t remember the last time Cass touched me. I turn over again, my eyes flicking open just as the room lights up from my phone. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens, and I hear Roman’s footsteps crossing the floor. He’s trying to be quiet, but it’s hard to be subtle when you’re six feet of pure muscle.

“Fuck,” I hear him mutter, followed by a string of colorful curses.

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