Page 121 of Sinful Temptations

He pulled back, blinking at me like he couldn’t figure out why he did that. A frown drilled across his brows as he yanked Lydia upright. Shaking his head, he wrestled her limp body through the crowd and disappeared.

Grinning like I’d won Eurovision, I wrapped my fingers around the handle of my stein and sipped my warm beer. I couldn’t stop smiling.

Smiling at everyone around me, all having the best time.

Smiling as I recalled my fabulous day.

Smiling as I replayed that kiss, over and over.

Another song belted from the speakers, and it was two choruses before everyone stood, including me, and belted out, “Alice. Who the fuck is Alice!”

Laughing along with the group, I swayed in time and sang the lyrics.

As I skulled my beer and then flopped back onto my seat, I replayed the song in my head. The lyrics were about telling a girl how he was feeling but never getting the chance.

Oh. My God. Was this a sign?

Should I tell Roman how I feel about him? About what he means to me?

About how I can’t stop thinking about him . . . about us.

I smacked my lips together. All of a sudden, I was super thirsty. Which was ridiculous, given the amount of beer I’d had.

Glancing around, I hoped to see Roman. But nope. He wasn’t there.

I had to pee. Leaning into Samson, I tapped his shoulder. “Hey, can you save our seats?”

He looked at me like he’d forgotten I was there. “Okay.”

“Two seats. Me and Roman. Okay?”

He nodded.

“You save them.” I felt the need to say it for a third time.

“Okay, I got it.”

“Right. Good.” I trotted away; each step reminded me of just how badly I had to pee. Pushing through the crowd wasn’t easy, and just getting to the end of the row took forever. Spying the restroom sign in the corner, I made a dash for it.

As usual, there was a bloody line, and as I slotted in with all the beautiful beer wenches, I felt completely at ease. I made idle chitchat with a few of them. They were all solovely. But it wasme, making idle chitchat? I truly had changed.

It seemed an eternity before I returned to my seat, but I was really bummed that Roman wasn’t back yet. I was seated for barely a minute before another beer was plonked in front of me. I sipped away, feeling the positive energy of the crowd.

Glancing over my shoulder non-stop, eager to spy Roman’s arrival, I continued to sip my beer and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

When yet another beer was placed in front of me, it suddenly hit me.

Roman wasn’t coming.

Acid burned in my stomach so hard I winced.

Roman was cruel. A tease. A total bastard.

Without a word to the others, I grabbed my bag and stood. Every step toward the hotel was hell—each one slamming another painful thought through my brain.

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