Page 58 of Worth the Trouble

Lili

Romewalksthebandout of his house while I wait for him on the couch.

Today didn’t go anything like I expected it to. While I thought his band might be like many of the cold celebrities I’ve met in my line of work, they were warm, kind, and comfortable to be around. In their element, they’re laid back and surprisingly friendly. The girls played a game of cards while the guys hung out and Noah tattooed.

They’re nothing like the uptight world I’m used to.

Except now, as Rome files them out the door, the tension from earlier creeps back into the room because once more we’re alone.

I should probably change back into my clothes and leave. I’ve been here all day. It’s well past dinner, so I might be overstaying my welcome. But after the interruption this morning in Rome’s room, I can’t seem to drag myself away until I know for sure that’s what he wants.

Rome’s eyes meet mine when he walks back into the room, and the heavy weight in them is all consuming. He circles around the island in the kitchen, quietly watching me as he fills a glass with ice water, taking a long drink before coming to meet me on the couch.

I’m propped against one of the arms, facing him, and he sinks at my feet with an arm stretched along the back in my direction. He takes another drink, drawing ice into his mouth with it and clicking it over his teeth as it slowly melts.

He chews what’s left, swallowing it down. “How long has it been since you’ve fucked someone?”

I’m caught off guard by his question and can’t help pulling my knees to my chest as if it offers some kind of protection from his blunt delivery.

Rome smirks at my obvious reaction but doesn’t take it back.

He’s pushing again. Doing what he does best—seeing if he can get me to the point where I’ll run.

“A little over a year,” I answer honestly.

I’m sure to him it sounds like a lifetime, but sex is one area we’re clearly different. My life is all about control and resisting urges, while his is pure indulgence.

I wait for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t flinch. His gaze holds mine and the intensity is almost unnerving.

“Why?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything for too long.

Rome takes another drink of water, the ice once more clicking against his teeth. I’m tempted to take a drink myself and feel the coolness on my own tongue, but I don’t move. I don’t flinch as he chews another cube and rests the glass on his thigh.

“Just curious,” he finally answers.

“How long’s it been for you?”

I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but he’s the one who started this conversation, and I can’t help my own curiosity.

He smirks. “Thirty-three days.”

“Someone’s counting.” I might know it’s been a year for me, but that’s a round number. I’m not checking off the days like he seems to be. “Is that some sort of record for you or something?”

He shrugs one shoulder, tipping the glass of water side to side, watching the ice move around. “Not one I’ve been working for or anything.”

“You just do what you want.”

While I resist and hold back, he devours, regardless of the consequences.

Rome nods once, his dark stare meeting mine. “Until I met you.”

“What does that mean?”

Rome turns to face me, his arm still up on the couch. His jaw tenses, and I can’t help but let my gaze drop to the third eye tattoo on his throat. The full force of him watching me.

“You complicate things.”

“I’m not trying to.” Not that I mind the way his confession sends my head spinning.

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