Page 54 of Worth the Trouble

I have no doubt Rome could show me things beyond what I can even imagine. A world I don’t dare to dip my toe into. But right now, I want to.

Finally, he stands and helps me slip the T-shirt over my head. And I’m not sure why he’s dressing me when he seems to enjoy doing the opposite more.

He rolls the sweats a few times to tighten them around my slim waist, while I make a knot of the T-shirt to crop it. I’m swimming in this outfit, but it feels good.

It feels like Rome.

He pauses with his hands on my hips, and we’re so close I’m forced to look up. Reaching for his face, I dare to place my hand on his cheek.

“Tell me something real, Rome.”

“What do you want to know?”

I bite down on my lower lip and his eyes follow. “What’s the real reason you haven’t tried to sleep with me? Are you really that afraid to work me out of your system?”

The longer we play this game, the more I realize it’s no longer a game at all. I want him in ways I shouldn’t, but I’m scared he’s not feeling the same.

Rome’s smile falls, and the air is thick. He reaches up and brushes my messy hair behind my ear. I’ve washed off my makeup, and there’s nothing special about how I look right now, but his eyes on me make me feel like something exquisite.

“Maybe I’m worried about the opposite,” he says with a vulnerability I’m not used to hearing from him. His hands trace down my hips, and then he holds both my hands in his. “LEGOs, and all.”

I have no idea what that means, and he doesn’t elaborate, so I just shake my head. “LEGOs,” I repeat.

I’m about to step back, but he catches me so fast my body crashes into him as he claims my lips. Suddenly, fully, completely. One hand wraps into my hair while the other snakes around my lower back and holds me tightly to him.

He kisses me like he’s after more than just one breath—he wants them all. And even if it’s trouble, I want him to have them.

I part my lips, and his shadows find their way from his heart to my lungs. From my blood to my bones. He’s chaos sneaking in with intentions of ripping me apart.

Rome drags both of his hands to my face, and I’m a raw nerve. I melt against his firm body as his hips press his hard dick against my stomach. I want him—I need him. No matter the price.

But just as his hands move down and he cups my ass, the doorbell cuts through the silence of the house and tears the moment in two.

I pull back, and Rome’s eyebrows furrow before his eyes go wide.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

He runs his palm over his face and shakes his head. “The band is coming over. Noah’s going to ink Adrian, and we were gonna chill. I totally forgot.”

“Oh. I can go then.” I try to pull back, but his grip on my waist tightens.

“Stay.”

He wants me to stay again.

I don’t stay for anyone; all I do is go.

I’m constantly on the move—my body, my life. I belong to dance, to the company, to my family. I belong to the world, not myself. I don’t grow roots. Yet Rome makes me want to plant myself under his skin like I could be the ink he cherishes.

I should run now while I’ve still got the strength to leave. I should never look back.

But like I’m lost in this labyrinth of a house, I’m lost in him, and I don’t want out.

17

Rome

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