Page 52 of For The Weekend
He brushes a few wisps of hair from my temple before exhaling audibly and studying the room, a fireplace below the flat-screen television and the small table for two tucked into the corner next to the window. Everything is decorated in muted blues and greens, lots of dark wood and plush white bedding.
“Gotta admit, though, this is a nice fucking room.”
I cackle. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
His mouth tugs up at the corners in a smile, obviously finding amusement in my maniacal, slightly delirious laughter, all this nervous energy with nowhere to go. “You wanna go take a walk?” he asks. “Explore the rest of this dump?”
“Yeah. Let’s see what awful amenities they have.”
“Probably nothing.” He stands and holds out his hand for me, lacing our fingers together again as we head out the door. His fingers are long and thick, callused on his palm, but gentle in his touch, and I don’t think twice about leaning into his side or wrapping my other hand around his forearm, as if I could ever keep him in place. Though he doesn’t seem like he wants to go anywhere.
Inside the elevator, he pulls me closer to make room for a handful of other guests and ducks his head down to mine. I can’t be sure, but I swear he kisses my hair. Before I can question it, the doors open to the main floor, and he guides me out to the patio, the ski slopes in the not-so-far-off distance. The air is crisp and clean and a touch cold.
Roman loops his arm around my shoulders, immediately warming me up. “Can’t say I’ve ever stayed anywhere this nice before.”
I burrow into him as close as possible, hands fisting his T-shirt, and I press my nose into his chest, inhaling his scent, comfy like clean cotton and spicy like cardamom. Intoxicating.
I inhale deeply and absent-mindedly rub my cheek against him like a cat. I don’t realize what I’m doing until his hands are on the back of my head, guiding it up. When I meet his gaze, I blink a few times, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.” I pat his chest. “You’d be surprised how soft these hard-packed muscles are.”
For how big I am, he dwarfs me. With his hands on either side of my face and the breadth of his body blocking outanything else, I can only see him. “Don’t ever apologize for touching me.”
I swallow at the command, at the pure lust in his voice, lowering it a few registers, deep enough to send a shiver down my spine. Of course, I reach for a joke. “Because you’re worse than Kyle?”
He nods solemnly. “So much fucking worse.”
Then he closes the last few inches between us and kisses me.
It’s slow and sweet and makes my toes curl, a bare hint of his tongue along my bottom lip. And over all too quickly when I’m abruptly hit with reality.
“Well, I see you’ve finally arrived.”
I hop back, startled, and find myself face-to-face with my mother. Her eyes are wide, her lips pinched, and I wipe my hand over my mouth as if I could wipe away the evidence of the kiss.
She stays silent, eyes darting back and forth between me and the real-life mountain next to me. I wrap my arm around his waist. “Mom, is this my boyfriend, Roman.”
She is tall, but only about 5’8”, and she has to tilt her head back to take in all of him. All 6’5” and 200-some pounds of him. The tattoos and long, dark hair. Tawny skin and unyielding gaze.
For the first time in her life, I think my mom isn’t the one to judge first. She is being judged.
And maybe found wanting.
“Roman,” she says eventually in greeting.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Thorne.”
“You can call me Katherine.”
“Katherine,” he repeats, and Mom clears her throat, obviously not knowing what to make of him.
I fucking love it.
Until she turns her gaze to me. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it in time.”
I roll my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Whywouldyou?” She checks the slender silver watch on her wrist. “It’s almost time for the rehearsal, and you’re not even dressed.”
I glance down at my leggings and Barbie sweatshirt. “It’ll take me five minutes to change.”
