Page 18 of Breakaway

“So you like my suggestions?”

“I do, but I don’t really understand why you didn’t include any sports. Going to a game together? The excitement, the adrenaline, the pure fucking endorphin rush when your team wins—it’s the best thing ever.”

He has a point. A really good one. I groan, shifting in my seat so I can sit straight. “Dammit, and I thought I was done.”

“You’re welcome.” I glare at him, but it quickly disappears because he puts his hand on my knee. “You wrote an amazing article, Nevaeh. If you add in some sports, it’ll just make it better.”

“Thank you.” I hold his gaze. The feeling of his hand on my skin is intoxicating, setting my whole being on fucking fire and making my body hum in anticipation.

I’ve never felt anything even close to how this man makes me feel. Even with the guys and girls I was in love with. He’s just different.

Suddenly, his hand is gone, and he leans back into his seat. “Sure. Anytime.” His reply is clipped and curt, and it makes me set my jaw hard. His attempt to create distance between us when we’re sitting next to each other on a plane is ridiculous—so are my reactions to him. I need to get over it.

He’s just a guy. And I have an article to finish. With a sigh, I pull my laptop out again. Writing always helps me clear my mind.

Roman steps outof the elevator first, proceeding to his right. I follow him in silence, debating in my head whether I’m making a mistake or not.

A little too late for that, no?

I roll my eyes and twist my lips into a scowl. My inner voice is annoying me. Of course it’s too late. Instead of agreeing to come to Vegas on a whim, I should’ve said no. Right off the bat, because that was the most logical thing—and yet I let my consciousness black out while my heart was running the show.

Dammit, I broke up with Travis four days ago. I should be home, watching rom-coms and eating ice cream. I should be looking for an apartment. And, more than anything, I should feel something when my ex sends me pictures of him and his dog on walks, telling me how much they miss me.

But I don’t feel anything…unless it involves the guy walking in front of me. Guess I seriously fucked up.

“This is our room,” Roman mutters, glancing at me over his shoulder. I stop beside him right as he opens the door with the key card and lets me in first. “I tried to get them to upgrade what I booked, but this was the only available room with two beds.”

Barely listening to his mumbling, I step into the room and look around. It’s big, spacious, in warm colors with two double beds, a table and chairs by the window, a big TV on the wall, and a bar underneath it. I walk straight to the window and look down at the famous Las Vegas Strip. Putting my hands on the glass, I close my eyelids and let the sunlight warm my skin.

I don’t need to open my eyes to know he’s beside me. His arm brushes mine as he stands close. “I’ve been to Vegas for games, but I never really had the chance to explore,” he says quietly. Iturn my head to look at him, and our gazes meet. “Thank you so much for agreeing to come with me.”

“Don’t mention it,” I reply, averting my eyes. The longer I look at the city, the stronger the feeling in the pit of my stomach becomes. I don’t know his reasons, but I think I need this trip just as much as he does. “Thank you for inviting me. I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll be great company.”

Roman’s lips curl into a crooked smile. “I don’t doubt it.”

Smiling at each other, we stand at the window side by side, watching the city and not saying anything. The moment is peaceful and calm, and for the first time since I walked out of Travis’s apartment, I start to believe that everything is going to be alright.

I’m going to be alright.

Chapter 8

My Type

ROMAN

I’m sittingon the couch in the lobby, playing Archero on my phone. Nevaeh stayed in the room to shower and get ready for dinner. She said it wouldn’t bother her if I stayed, but I decided it would be best if I went downstairs. Just picturing her in the shower fucks up my mood; I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything else.

The less temptation, the better. I’m already walking a very thin line between what is right and what I want. And fucking Nevaeh into oblivion should definitely not be something I consider at all. It shouldn’t even cross my mind, but it does…andblyat’?1—I’m thinking about her all over again.

I quit the game and send my mom a text to let her know I made it to Vegas. It’s around five a.m. in Belarus, and she should still be asleep, but the last thing I want is to worry her. She’s the most important person in my life. Without her, I’m not sure I would’ve made it through Maksim’s death. Everything I have now is because of Mom, and I’d go to the end of the fucking earth for her.

“Sorry,” a sugary-sweet voice says, and I look up from my phone. A redhead with wild curls framing her face stands beside the couch, her hands locked behind her. My gaze slips down toher cleavage—her tits are almost spilling out of her black dress. Raising my eyes back to her face, I see a sultry smile on her red lips. “I’m here with my friends.” She points over her shoulder at two girls standing near the reception desk. “And I noticed you’re here all alone, so I thought maybe I should introduce myself. I’m Zoey.”

Tilting my head to the side, I continue to stare at her without saying anything. She shifts in place, crossing her legs at the ankles. My silence makes her uncomfortable, but I don’t really feel bad about it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Zoey,” I finally say. “What are you and your friends doing in Vegas?”

A relieved sigh jumps out of her parted lips. She uncrosses her ankles and steps closer to the couch. “We’re here for my friend’s bachelorette party. We plan to let loose. Do some crazy stuff, you know? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?” She doesn’t hesitate to sit down beside me, her leg brushing mine. “What brings you to Vegas?”

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