Cousins: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance(55)

Roman leans in much closer to me, and I grip the sides of my chair to hold myself steady. Anytime there's close proximity between us, I feel like I'm going to self combust.

"Did you miss me Duchess?" He asks in the low gritty voice that I'm beginning to desperately crave. "Is that why you're so pissed? Because I ain't going to lie, I missed the shit out of you too."

Don't ask him. Don't ask him.

"So why the silent treatment all week?"

Weakling!

"You told me you couldn't. You asked me to stop this. I'm trying to stop."

"So coming to Java to spy on me. This is you stopping?"

My phone vibrates.

Jagger: I'm around the corner.

I pause to look up at Roman for a moment and then start typing. It's not a group text this time, so I know I have to respond. He's definitely coming to meet me.

Me: Only been here ten minutes. See you when you get here:)

"Was that him?" Roman asks gruffly.

"Yes." I say while scanning the room for Sloan and keeping a close eye on the door.

"Why are you so nervous?" He asks tightly.

"I'm not. I just don't think it's a good idea if you're here when he arrives."

"And why the fuck is that?"

"You know why."

"Did you know that my apartment is close by?"

"Really?" I thought he actually lived closer to City Hall.

"You want to see it?"

No Elizabeth.

"When?"

"Now."

"Roman, you know I'm waiting for Jagger."

"Have coffee with him, then meet me at my place in an hour. I want you to take a look at my desktop. I think I have a virus or something."

"I'm not a computer expert. I hire people for that."

"You know more about that shit than me. Just take a look. If I have to hire someone then I will."

This is SO not a good idea.

Correction. I know that this is a really bad idea, but I need Roman to leave right now, and saying yes will probably be the only thing that will get him to leave. Plus I have to admit that I'm curious. I'd love to see his place. It's probably frackin' inspirational. So I start to rationalize.

I'm just going by his apartment.

It's not a date or a booty call.

It's just me helping him out with his computer. I'd do it for anyone else. I'd do it for a stranger. So why not him?

You know why Elizabeth.





Chapter Twenty-Two

Elizabeth





Roman is just a man.

Flesh. Bones. Beauty.

That's the mantra I've been repeating to myself in order to mentally prepare for entering his building. For daring to be alone with him in his uber-masculine presence. You would imagine that I could control my internal systems when I am in front of this man, but my circulatory system has a mind of it's own.

My blood is racing.

My pulse pounding.

And there's a scary ass Alaskan Malamute named Mr. Tibbs staring me down like I'm a piece of chicken (and not in the good way!), while I am sitting in Roman's living room with my mouth closed, my knees shut, and my eyes completely mesmerized by his inked back. This is not the first time that I have seen him without a shirt on, but to say that Roman's body is a feast for the eyes is an understatement. I love looking at him every single time. He's like a Christmas present that has been carefully unwrapped for my viewing pleasure. A treat for the eyes.

Roman was distracted with something when he answered the door in nothing but a pair of snug fitting, worn jeans that hung low on his waist and a cell phone in his hand. That's probably why he didn't notice how I practically lost my breath, when I took a look at how his chiseled pecs flexed as he motioned for me to come in.

But there's something about a man's back, especially this man's back. A broad, strong one with sloped shoulders that looks and probably feels as if it could carry the weight of the world across it. Magnificently adorned with an intricate and patterned tattoo that covers the entire span of it. I've never seen anything like it in my life, and it is on full display as he moves his way around his professionally designed stainless steel kitchen, brewing some sort of latte concoction. Something with chocolate, espresso, milk and a dash of rum or some sort of alcohol. Something which is probably going to taste just as delicious as he looks.

From what I know about Roman so far, I realize that with certain things, he goes about them with a great deal of calculation. He wouldn't be making this drink if he hadn't perfected the recipe. He wouldn't have asked me come here if he didn't have a very specific reason, and it's certainly not to take a look at his computer.

Like I told myself earlier, this is a really bad idea. I'm not sure why I still decided to come here. I ended up having a good time chatting with Jagger earlier at Java. It was easy. He doesn't intimidate me the way Roman does. He doesn't challenge every frackin' thing I say the way that Roman does. Our conversation wasn't filled with uncomfortable sexual tension or him dragging me to the back and shoving his fingers in my vagina.