Page 41 of Sweet Addiction
Dillan
I really do love you, Lilah Belle.
Lilah
Love you too, D.
DILLAN
I mean, you could walk a mile in my shoes, but seriously, it would be boring.
If you’re looking for excitement, try spending sixty seconds in my head and tell me that doesn’t freak you right-the-fuck-out. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
—Dillan’s Secret Thoughts
Rome knocks on my car door, startling me, and I close out of my text thread with Lilah and lower the window. “Sorry, am I not moving quickly enough for you? I’ll try to do better.” No sooner do the words leave my lips than I gasp, sarcasm hanging heavy between us as I cover my mouth. “Oh no. Will you out me for that too?”
“Dillan,” he growls.
“Devil,” I growl back.
“I wanted to see if you had anything I could carry in for you?”
“Don’t bother trying to be nice now, Beneventi.” I close the window and shove my door open, smacking his legs and garnering a satisfying groan. “You showed your true colors already.”
Judging by the way he’s bent over, I may have nailed his balls too.
Pity.
Ignoring the teeny sliver of guilt that tickles somewhere deep in my subconscious, I walk around him, careful not to slide on ice, and grab my giant suitcase from the trunk. His house isn’t what I expected. Although I’m not sure what I was expecting. Either way, this isn’t it.
I would have thought Rome was a penthouse kind of guy, not a legit log cabin on the back end of Cherry Creek. It’s beautiful in anabout to get murdered by some crazy person wearing someone else’s skin and running around with a chainsawkind of way.
Sometimes I worry about myself and my overactive imagination.
Today would be one of those days.
Rome catches up to me before I get to the front door and takes the suitcase from me. Well, he tries to, but I refuse to let go. “Don’t go getting all chivalrous on me now.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.” He tugs hard, and I’m forced to let go and watch as Rome opens the large glass door and steps aside to let me walk in first. “Now move your ass before it starts raining again.”
There’s the asshole I know and loathe. With a heaving, frustrated sigh, I walk ahead of him and stop once I’m inside. Okay, really didn’t expect this. It’s beautiful. The entire cabin is made of gleaming wooden logs, with high ceilings and wall-to-wall windows that overlook the backyard and creek beyond. Completely open concept and from what I can see, the primarybedroom is lofted above the living space. I turn slowly, taking in the kitchen, dining area, massive fireplace that anchors the living room, and what I’m assuming is a bathroom and... I spin on Rome as he sets my suitcase at the foot of the stairs leading to the bedroom. The only one I see.
My teeth grind so hard, I think I may have just chipped a molar. “How. Many. Bedrooms. Do. You. Have. Psycho?”
“You know you busted my balls once for my love of nicknames, Ryan. But you seem to have a few of them for me.” His smile is infuriating, and I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to claw anyone’s eyes out before this very moment.
“Rome... I swear to God, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread right now. And if I lose my shit, you lose your alibi. And don’t think I haven’t realized you’re using me to cover for something. Something you will tell me about if you want to make this shit work. Now, where is your other bedroom?” I’m not sure I’ve meant words more than I mean these.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, and my eyes follow the lines over his thick thighs down to his bare feet, and I hate that I know what those damn thighs look like thrusting inside me. I hate it almost as much as I hate the sparkle hiding in the depths of those midnight blue eyes that are so dark, they’re bordering on black when he catches me looking. The fucker shrugs. “Just one bedroom, princess.”
“No. No way.” I walk down the hall and open the door to a bathroom and then another to a laundry room, and a third to an office. Surprisingly, everything in his home is very minimal. I wouldn’t have expected that from Rome. His office has a desk, a desk chair, and a comfy-looking chair and ottoman in the corner of the room. The family room has a small leather couch and a leather recliner, both facing a big flat-screen TV. I spot one more door, only this one opens to dark stairs, with the switch on the wall that doesn’t turn on any light. “What’s down here?”
“My gym.” He picks my suitcase up and lifts a foot onto the bottom step leading to the loft. “One bed. One bedroom.”
“Then you better get really comfortable on the couch, asshole.”
Rome looks over my shoulder at the couch and laughs. “I’m six five, Ryan. I’m not sleeping on the damn couch.”
