Page 41 of Sinful Escape

“Hey.” I playfully slapped him. “I’m not screwed up.”

“No.” He nodded like he’d finally figured out a mathematical equation. “You’re right. But wow, now I know why you’re so uptight.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Hell, yes you are. You’re like a fucking spring that’s been squashed under a boot for years.”

“Really?” I shot him a ‘bullshit’ glare.

“Yes, really. The few times I’ve seen you laugh, it’s like you feel guilty for doing it.” Roman’s voice was way too calm. He spun on his chair, placing his knees on either side of mine. The worrisome mix of inquisitiveness and sadness in his eyes made my chest squeeze and my mind dread what he was about to say. “Don’t tell me that dipshit was your last shag?”

“I’m not telling you that! And his name is William.” I practically spat the name out but regretted it when Roman’s jaw dropped.

“Holy fuck. You do still love him. It all makes sense now.” Roman nodded, apparently piecing things together. His honey eyes softened. “How long’s it been since you broke up?”

Clamping my teeth together, I yanked that stupid curl from my cheek.

“Think of this as therapy.”

I scrunched up my face. “Therapy?”

“Si. It’s good to talk about things.”

“Oh, really? I’ll remember that when you get cranky.”

“Do. I insist. But you’re changing the subject.”

Roman was like a backpacker lining up at a half-priced buffet, unlikely to give up. I huffed. “All right, if you must know, William moved out on the 13th of February 2015.”

Roman’s eyeballs just about bounced right out of his head. “You’ve been pining for that bastardo for five years?”

I lowered my gaze to that freckle. How the hell did I get myself into this conversation?

“Hey.” Roman tapped his hand on my leg. “Want to talk about it?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shook my head.

“Well, Red, I know what you need. You need mind-blowing sex.”

“Jeezzusss!” Gasping, I just about launched right off the bar stool. “Shush.” The smug look on the barman’s face confirmed he’d overheard.

A blaze of heat burned my cheeks. I wanted to die.

“Si, si. That’s what you need.” Roman nodded. “A good fuck will get you over William.” He said his name like my ex was a corrupt politician. “Sex fixes everything.”

My brain screamed with inappropriate retorts. Not one of them reached my lips. When I dragged my eyes from the barman and met Roman’s gaze, I had hoped to see a jovial expression, any sign that he was joking. Nope. His furrowed brow and intense expression told me he was absolutely serious.

Faaark.

“Maybe not tonight. Or tomorrow.” Roman raised his drink and winked at me. “But before we drive the bus back into the yard in London, you’re going to have sex.”

I groaned. “Not going to happen.”

“Sure is. Even if I have to do it myself.”

My jaw dropped and a dose of tingles teased my pussy. It was unexpected. It was delicious. There must be a fucking straitjacket nearby with my name on it. Roman’s declaration wasn’t just messing with my brain; it had all my bits confused. And that was unprecedented. Me and my bits were just fine until I’d met him.

“It would be a dirty job, but someone has to do it.” Laughing, he tapped both his hands on my knees.

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