Page 33 of Before I Say I Don't
He leaned down, moving in closer, and brushed his lips against mine—a fleeting, feather-light kiss that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through me.
I froze, then kissed him back without thinking, my hands curling in his shirt before I caught myself and pulled away, a gasp escaping my lips.
“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, laced with a mix of longing and conviction.
“I know,” he said quietly, but didn’t move away. “Kam, I’m not here to complicate your life. But I’m also not gonna promise I’ll stay in my lane if that nigga keeps leaving the door cracked. I care about you…alwayshave,” he confessed, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
Something in my chest cracked open at those words.
“Will you… stay? Just for tonight. Not like that,” I added quickly. “I just… don’t want to be alone.”
Roman studied me for a long moment, then he nodded once, decisive.
“Yeah. I’ll stay… as long as we both keep all hands, feet, and any other dangerous body parts exactly where they’re supposed to be.”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “And where’s that?”
His gaze dropped to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “That’s the part I’m still negotiating.”
I turned my phone off and set it on the nightstand like it didn’t exist. As we sank into the softness of the sheets, we laid side by side, his strong arm instinctively wrapping around me. I nestled my cheek against his chest, finding solace in the rhythmic thump of his heart. There were no words to breakthe tranquility and no judgments weighing us down—just the comforting warmth of his embrace.
For the first time in weeks, I slept free from the relentless thoughts of the wedding that had haunted my nights. The troubles of my life—the chaotic wedding preparations, the heated argument, Viangelo—allfaded into the background. I lost myself in the simple beauty of the moment, surrounded by the soothing hum of the air conditioning and the cocoon of safety wrapped around me, grateful for this quiet interlude.
Chapter Six
KAMIRA
When I finally stirred awake, a gentle stream of sunlight was filtering through the hotel curtains, casting a soft glow that danced across the room. Roman remained beside me, his muscular arm draped protectively over my shoulders, his breath deep and even, creating an atmosphere of peace.
I shifted slightly, and his eyes opened, still heavy with sleep.
“Morning,” he murmured.
“Good morning.” I sat up, brushing my hair out of my face. “Thanks for last night… for staying.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, stretching before sitting up. “But I’ll take it anyway.”
There was a small smile there—not cocky, just warm.
We moved around the room quietly, him grabbing his jacket while I slipped on my shoes. When we reached the door, Roman turned to face me.
“I guess this is goodbye,” I said.
“For now,” he corrected, his tone firm. “Don’t be a stranger, Kam. If you need me—for anything—you text or call. No overthinking it, no wondering if you’re bothering me. I’m here.”
I swallowed, feeling that same strange mix of comfort and guilt. “Okay.”
Roman leaned down and kissed my cheek, the scruff on his jaw brushing my skin.
“And remember… I meant what I said. You deserve better than you’re getting.”
Before I could reply, he opened the door and walked out, his cologne lingering long after the click of the latch.
I walked over and powered my phone back on. The screen lit up with a long, rambling, worthless “I’m sorry” text from Viangelo. Normally, I would’ve sighed, softened, and typed backIt’s okay, baby.
Not that day.
Instead, I tapped out two words—Good morning—and closed the screen like I was shutting a door.
