Page 75 of Before I Say I Don't
I was already memorizing how Roman’s hand gripped a fork, how his forearm flexed when he reached for his glass, and how the veins along his wrist pulsed like a countdown. If that was addiction, then withdrawal was going to be hell.
And I didn’t even want a cure. I wanted him—his hand on my throat, his weight pinning me down, his mouth dragging confessions out of me I swore I’d never say. I wanted the heat of him pressed into every place that ached, the kind of dose that left me trembling, ruined, begging for more.
“So… how did the tasting go?” he asked, digging into his food, changing the subject like a man who knew when to redirect fire before it spread.
“Let’s just say… your boy was ten minutes late but tried to act like he was doing us a favor by showing up. Then he got mad at me for defending my sister when she and his mama exchanged words. Typical.”
I gave him the rest of the rundown.
Roman shook his head when I finished. “Slaw as fuck. That’s all I can say.”
I laughed under my breath. “Slaw?”
“Slaw. No seasoning, no loyalty… just… coleslaw.”
I giggled. “You’re silly.”
He leaned back, fork in hand, eyes on me. “For real, how you feeling about all this?”
I chewed slowly, then put my fork down with a soft clink against the plate.
“Honestly? Numb,” I admitted, exhaling slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “But it’s cool. Just one more week.”
The words hung in the air; a bittersweet anticipation tinged with trepidation.
“Speaking of your boy…” Roman shifted in his seat, setting his fork down, leaning forward on his elbows. “Angelo texted me not too long ago. He wants to ‘meet up’againlater… probably to talk about you.”
My brows went up. “You gonna go?”
“Hell yeah!” he replied without hesitation. “Ain’t nothing he can say to make me change how I move, but I’m curious to see how he plays it.”
“Well, I already know you’re going to spill the beans afterward, so enough about him. But explain why I had to findout from Marcus that you two ran into each other and he practically gave you a job offer at our firm.”
Roman leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“We did run into each other… and yeah, hementionedthat I should come work at the firm,” he confirmed slowly. “I won’t say he actuallygaveme a job offer.”
“So… are you considering it or…” I pressed, my curiosity piqued.
“At first, it was ahellno, but I didn’t tell him that. But now…” Roman stood, walked around the table, and lifted me right out of my chair.
My hands connected around his neck. Then, he leaned in and we kissed a deep and passionate kiss, he trailed his lips down my jaw, my neck… and before I knew it, he’d pulled my blouse up just enough to free one breast. His mouth closed around my nipple—warm, wet, and deliberate. My head fell back with a sharp inhale.
“Roman…” I breathed, my knees nearly buckling and my nails digging into his shoulders like I needed him to hold me up or I’d melt right into his floor.
He hummed low against my skin, that dangerous little sound that sent heat shooting straight through me.
“You shaking already, baby?” he murmured, his lips dragging over my nipple, tongue flicking slow, taunting. “And I ain’t even started yet.”
A gasp slipped out before I could stop it. My fingers curled in his shirt, pulling him closer like I couldn’t get enough.
He smirked against me, dark and knowing. “Unexpected enough for you?”
“Mmm,” was all I could manage, my voice breaking into a soft and needy tone.
“Good,” he rasped, his voice dropping into that tone that made my thighs press together. “Next time, I’m laying you on this table, making you eat with my dick still inside you… watching you try to keep a straight face while I fuck you slow.”
A shiver ran through me so hard I thought my knees might give out completely.
