Page 18 of Worth the Trouble

Things I shouldn’t want to know.

When we roll to a stop, I finally lift my head, and I wonder if he finds it odd that I’ve all but cocooned myself around him for the entire ride. If so, he doesn’t say anything.

“Here we are.” Rome steadies us with his feet on the ground.

“Wait.” I look around, reaching to slip the helmet off my head. “This isn’t my house.”

“Prettyandsmart,” he says almost mockingly. “It’s my house. I’m assuming you don’t have a spare car and you’re going to need some way to get into the city?”

He holds his hand out to the side, the same way he offered it to me when I climbed on the bike, and I take it. He doesn’t even look back at me as I climb off and adjust my dress, so as not to flash him.

In fact, for having such a dirty mouth, Rome hasn’t been anything other than physically appropriate. He always maintains a safe foot of space, even when he leans in. He never touches me, even playfully, and he averted his eyes even after making the joke earlier about my underwear.

Obscene as Rome is, there’s almost an air to him that hints he’s secretly a gentleman. It’s puzzling.

“So this is where you live?” I look over the large house that stands in front of me. It’s modern with sleek lines and wide windows. If a house could feel like a person, his house feels like him. Mostly hidden by the trees with a tall fence around the property so that an outsider can only see the sides he wants to show them.

“This is it.” He climbs off the bike and takes the helmet from me as we walk toward the front door.

Each step feels like a warning. After all, what sane person follows the lion into his den and expects not to be eaten?

Although maybe I have it wrong. Maybe everything I’ve read about Rome is just that—rumors. Maybe he really is a gentleman.

But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, Rome swings open his front door and I step directly into a wide open living space. And right dead center are two built-in stripper poles.

I had it right the first time. If this were a fairytale, Rome wouldn’t be my hero. Not by a long shot.

6

Rome

Lili’seyesdartfromme to the two poles in the middle of my living room, but she doesn’t say anything.

I’ve never thought much about the fact that I committed one hundred percent to my house being a bachelor pad. It’s who I am. The poles in the center serve their purpose as a statement so that any woman who enters gets a clear picture of exactly what I offer: fun, freedom, sex.

If they’re looking for love, they’ve come to the wrong place.

It’s why I don’t usually bring girls like Lili back here. She’s too uptight and prissy to be standing in a home built for debauchery. But as she steps further into the room and skims her fingertips over the back of my black leather couch, I can’t help but wonder what it would take to break her of her perfection. Because I’d love to bend her over and fuck her dirty.

“I’ll grab my keys, and we’ll get going.” I breeze past her before my brain continues down the dangerous path it’s barreling.

As much fun as it would be to see what it takes to get Lili on her knees, I know better than to fuck someone with her kind of expectations. She’s the type of girl who ends up with some guy who wears suits for a living and has boring vanilla sex with her on a perfectly curated schedule. The kind of guy who will give her a nice house and a couple of kids. The kind of guy who’ll stick around for more than five minutes.

That’s not me.

I make my way into the kitchen and grab the set of keys for my Range Rover out of one of the drawers. By the time I make it back into the living room, Lili’s sitting on the couch looking like there’s a stick up her ass with how upright she is.

Her chin is tipped up in defiance, and I’m getting used to this look on her. Stubbornness has always been a huge turnoff for me because I’m bullheaded enough for myself, but she wears it with the kind of confidence that makes me question things.

Sitting, her dress rides further up her thighs, and I have to try not to remember what it felt like to have her legs spread wide open behind me on my bike.

“You built this house?” Lili asks as I walk further into the room.

I nod. “A few years ago.”

Her eyes skim the room again, and I’m not sure anyone’s taken in my home the way she is, pausing at every piece of art and furniture. Granted, most people who come here show up to party and forget about shit, so they don’t really care much about their surroundings.

“Do you like living out here?” Her eyes flick from the window to me.

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