Page 53 of Worth the Trouble

Reaching his finger out, he plucks at my fishnets. “You want something more comfortable? Not that I’m complaining about the outfit because, fucking hell, you make my head spin. But it’s just you and me.”

I can’t help the heat that rushes to my cheeks at his comment. “You’re just trying to get me out of my clothes, aren’t you?”

It’s a joke.

Or wishful thinking?

“Caught me.” He smiles, and it lights up his whole face. “Or maybe I really am a gentleman.”

“Sure you are.” I roll my eyes and can’t hold back my laugh.

Rome shakes his head, looking younger in this light. Something about seeing him in his own element, just the two of us, has me more comfortable than I’ve been around him. He feels less like a projection and more like a person who wants me to see him beneath the layers. And it makes me want to dive deeper into him. To have it all.

We’ve shared a bed. He’s had his fingers inside me. He’s given me the best orgasm of my life. But that’s it. And I can’t help but want more. Even if there’s a risk that the moment we do, we’ll both snap out of this.

“Come on.” Rome stands up and holds out his hand to me. “I’m sure I can find you something to change into.”

I place my palm in his and his calloused fingers rub the back of my hand. Years of making music has imprinted on his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind these marks on his body like the others he buries in ink.

Sun shines through the large kitchen windows, and I see everything in broad daylight as I stand to face him. Even with tattoos covering Rome's neck to hands, there are markings buried beneath them. A healed gash on his side, burn marks on his arms, and random scars scattered throughout.

It hurts to look at them, which is a selfish thought. He’s the one who endured their pain. But as much as I wish I could take it away, I’m well aware they make Rome who he is. Strength and survival. Shadows in his eyes and marks on his soul.

Experience, where I’m sheltered.

Rome guides me down the hall to his room and doesn’t stop until we’re standing at his closet door. He steps inside, and I wait for him to come back. When he does, he’s holding a pair of grey sweatpants and a black Enemy Muse T-shirt.

“Branding me, huh?” I look from him to the shirt.

“Nah, if I wanted to brand you, I could think of more permanent ways.” He steps close and my heart starts to race.

“You don’t have to do this; I should get home soon anyway.”

“Do you have rehearsal today?”

I shake my head.

“Plans?”

“No.”

He shrugs. “Then stay. Chill.”

It’s a loaded offer, and we both know it. But he doesn’t step back, and I don’t either. Playing the same game neither of us has been willing to quit since the day we met.

“Unless you’re scared that is.” Rome winks, and I feel it like fingers crawling into me.

I answer him in action, taking the clothes from his hands and walking around him toward the bed. “As I said before—you don’t scare me, Rome Moreno.”

He watches me circle the room, swallowing hard as I pop the button on my shorts and drag them down my hips with my fishnets. Sitting back on his bed, I peel them off the rest of the way before slipping off my shirt.

While I’m often undressed in front of people in my profession, with Rome it’s different. He makes me want more.

Just. One. Taste.

It would be enough, right?

Rome walks over and kneels directly in front of me at the foot of the bed. He takes the sweatpants and holds them for me to slip my feet into. I stand as he draws them up my legs, but he stays where he is. And something about me standing here while he kneels in front of me is the most erotic thing I’ve experienced.

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