Page 76 of Before I Say I Don't
“Is that what you want, Kamira?” he whispered, his teeth grazing me just enough to make me flinch. “To walk back into work all pretty… and sore from me?”
I swallowed hard, but he didn’t let me answer before giving one last, lingering, filthy drag of his tongue over my nipple, sucking it into his mouth until I whimpered.
Then—like nothing had happened—Roman straightened my blouse, fixed it with careful fingers, and stepped back. His eyes were still locked on mine, heat radiating between us.
“Now,” he said with a wicked grin, “finish your lunch before I decide to keep you here and make you call in sick. ’Cause if I start… you’re not leaving on time.”
My chest rose sharp, my fork trembling in my hand.
Roman wasn’t bluffing. His eyes said it clearly—one wrong move from me and I’d never make it out that door.
And the crazy part? I didn’t want to.
Chapter Nineteen
ROMAN
Isat in the back corner of the bar, nursing a whiskey I hadn’t even sipped yet, eyes scanning the entrance every few seconds. My mind wasn’t on the liquor; it was on Kamira. The way she smiled when she thought I wasn’t looking. The way she trusted me enough to tell me things she probably hadn’t said to anyone, not even out loud to herself. And the way her scent was still clinging to my shirt as I prepared to sit across from her fiancé—evidence that what he calledhiswas already slipping intomine.
This shit is getting dangerous.
I kept telling myself to be a gentleman, to give her space and let her come to me on her terms. But every time I was near Kamira, my patience took another hit. I wanted to cross every line there was, and the only thing stopping me was that I knew she wasn’t ready to burn her life down… not yet.
I saw him before he saw me—Viangelo, walking in with that cocky stride like the world owed him an audience. My thumb slid over the screen of my phone, hitting record before I waved him over.
“Roman,” he greeted, slapping my hand.
“Angelo,” I nodded. “You been good?”
“Man, just ready to get this wedding over with,” he admitted, dropping into the seat across from me. “Everything’s a damn checklist. Kam’s been… different lately, though.”
I raised a brow. “Different how?”
He shrugged. “Not cold exactly, but she ain’t been the same since last weeknd. It’s like… she’s somewhere else in her head. I keep telling myself I’ma tell her about the baby… but every time I freeze up.”
“Why?” I asked, even though I already knew.
Viangelo sighed, glancing around like somebody might overhear.
“It’s too close to the wedding, man. I can’t drop no heavy shit on her now. Hell, I’m marrying her next week. I’ll just tell her after the honeymoon. At that point… we’re married. She ain’t going nowhere.”
This nigga doesn’t even know he’s rehearsing for my moment and practicing vows for a crowd that won’t even remember his name once she’s mine.
“So your plan is to let her walk down that aisle… knowing damn well you got a whole baby tucked away and secrets stacked higher than your tux collar?”
He scoffed. “It ain’t like that; I just don’t want to ruin what we got over a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I scoffed lightly. “Nigga, a mistake is forgetting an anniversary or leaving the toilet seat up. Having an outside baby on yo’ girl ain’t no slip-up; that’s a whole other life you built on the side. You think Kam is gonna swallow that shit better after she’s locked in? She’ll swallow it, alright… then spit it right back in your face in front of everybody she knows.”
Viangelo’s smirk faltered, just a crack.
“Damn, you sound like you’re rooting for her to leave my ass.”
Shid, I am, nigga.
“I’m rooting for her not to get blindsided,” I clarified. “And I’m telling you this as someone who’s seen women turn ice cold for less. If you wait, you’ll lose control of how she finds out. Then it’s not just the truth that breaks her… it’s the fact you let her stand up there smiling, promising forever, while you made her say vows with your hands full of lies.”
Viangelo reclined, quiet for a second, like my words were heavier than he wanted to admit. Then he squinted at me.
