Page 57 of Worth the Trouble

“Figured you’d like them.” I shrug.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m the asshole. If I haven’t scared you off yet then they won’t.” I chuckle, realizing I’m not sure why I haven’t scared her off yet.

I’m an idiot about most things but smart enough to know what she probably sees when she looks at me. I’m a man who runs through women, indulges in whatever I feel like spending the days drowning in. I’m a trainwreck.

I’d think she wants to fix me if she didn’t seem so damn curious looking at me as-is.

Lili doesn’t try to hide from my broken parts or pretend they don’t exist. The more I show her, the more she wants to see. Wants to stare my demons in the eyes like she’s not afraid to face them with me.

And it’s fucking terrifying.

“Is that what you’ve been trying to do, Rome? Scare me away?”

“I shouldn’t have to try so hard.”

“But you will.” It’s not a question because she can already read me too well.

Her mouth is in a firm line, drawing out the sharp lines in her heart-shaped face. And with one sentence she reveals my truth. I’d rather scare her away than face what this is becoming because I don’t give people power over me anymore.

A thought that eats away at my nerve endings when she’s looking in my eyes like she sees everything I hate showing people.

I’ve never been more tempted to piece together someone just to break them into a million pieces.

“So what do you think?” I tip my chin to where Noah is tattooing Adrian, changing the subject.

Lili almost frowns, but catches herself, as she follows my gaze. “It’s interesting. I didn’t realize rock stars doubled as tattoo artists.”

“Too much downtime when recording and riding on buses. We pick up weird hobbies.”

“So then what’s yours?”

I can’t help the smirk that climbs my face. “That might be more than you can handle, sweetheart.”

She bends her knee and twists to face me on the couch. “Try me.”

This girl has no defense mechanisms. Always asking questions she won’t like the answer to, and I can’t seem to lie to her.

I tip my head back, leaning it against the couch but facing her, knowing a smart man would know when to keep his mouth shut or sugarcoat shit. But I’m not smart when it comes to her, and I can’t help my desire to show her exactly who I am just to see how deep she’s willing to get.

“I don’t have specific hobbies, per se. When I’m horny, I fuck. When I’m bored, I party. When I’m lonely, I surround myself with people. The perks of not having an addictive personality. I indulge when I want to. I chill when I want to. I don’t get hung up on things. All shit comes and goes eventually. I’m just here to enjoy the ride.”

Lili’s eyes narrow like she’s trying to see through my statement, but all that lies there is truth. I don’t get attached, which is why my fascination with her is so damn irritating.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Lili says, but it doesn’t sound like a compliment.

I reach over and trace my fingers on the back of her hand, drawing circles over her soft skin. Her breath remains even, but the faintest blush climbs her neck, and I’d like to drag my tongue over her just to get a taste of it.

I’m not a liar. I don’t get addictions. I don’t get attached. I don’t obsess. Everything is temporary, from the people I surround myself with to the breath in my lungs.

Then I met Lili, and I can’t get her out from under my skin.

“I thought I did.”

Before I met Lili—I really thought I fucking did.

18

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