Page 89 of Rebound
I pinch the bridge of my nose. How did I find the one man who’s so obsessive? How am I supposed to keep my clothes on when he’s being like this? I’m only a girl. “Remember that conversation we had about boundaries literally forty minutes ago?”
Roman gently tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, his eyes glowing in the fluorescent lights of the garage. “I’ll respect your boundaries, baby. But they’re not going to keep me out. This is as much space as I’m capable of giving you and even that’s asking too much.”
My heart tries to leap out of my chest. Why is he making this so difficult?
“You can’t say things like that,” I whisper. “It makes it really difficult to maintain these boundaries.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve never been good at keeping my mouth shut,” he says, with a half-smile.
“No! Who said that? You’re always so mild-mannered.”
One corner of his mouth tilts up into a smile as his eyes drop down to my mouth. “Maybe I followed you because I wanted to kiss you again.”
“I’m sorry, we no longer offer that service,” I say, in a very professional voice.
Roman heaves a disappointed sigh. “Damn, I was really looking forward to it.”
I nod. “We usually only bring it back by special request.”
Roman peeks up at me from under his lashes. “Given my failure to resist you and the fact that I’m utterly enthralled by you, I formally requ–”
I don’t let him finish the sentence before I grab the lapels of his leather jacket and pull him in for a kiss. Roman’s breath escapes in a whoosh and I breathe him in, so that for one perfect second, we’re sharing the same breath. There’s a kind of magic in it, to being so close to someone you’re breathing the same air, feeling their heart beat in tandem with yours.
I feel it more than ever with Roman.
His lips are soft and warm against mine. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, holding me close to him. The kiss starts off gentle, grows hotter, rougher, more urgent. I gasp into his mouth, and the sound only seems to set Roman off.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing mine, claiming, demanding, until I’m breathless with need. The only thing keeping me upright is his arm wrapped around my waist. He angles my head with one hand, tilting, devouring, while pulling me closer still so there’s not an inch of space left between us.
Every brush of his mouth, every nip, every breath stolen, feels like fire racing through my veins–a fire that feels impossible to put out.
I pull away only when my lungs cry for air, resting my forehead against Roman’s. Our harsh breathing is the only sound in the garage.
“Request accepted,” I whisper, when my breathing steadies. And there go my boundaries, disappearing in the wind.
Roman laughs quietly, the rough sound making me shiver. I lean back and cup his face, looking up into his eyes. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Please don’t ride your motorcycle until the summer. I’m terrified enough you have one, I can’t have you riding it during the winter.”
Roman tilts his head, a look I can’t explain crossing his face. It’s gone before I have the chance to question it, and he nods once. “I promise.”
After I make him promise to text me as soon as he gets home, I watch him start the bike and drive off. My heart remains in my throat until I receive a message confirming from him that he’s home.
Lying in bed that night, my mind refuses to stop thinking about Roman. I still feel the indents of his fingers pressing into my neck, my lips still tingling from our kiss.
I don’t recall ever feeling this way at the start of a relationship and this isn’t even a real one. All my other relationships have felt safe.
Hell, I didn’t even cry when my fiancé left me at the altar. I accepted it and moved on. Was I depressed and didn’t leave the bed for a month? Sure, but that was mostly me trying to shut out the world while I figured out what I was going to do next.
Everything with Roman feels heightened, like I’m looking at it through a 100x lens. Every look, every touch feels like it’ll be printed onto my skin for years to come.
This fake marriage might turn out to be a big mistake.
TWENTY-NINE
ROMAN
