I do, I’m faced with a sight that reminds me where I am.
Roman’s bare back greets me. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, about to slip on a white dress shirt. I’ve never seen a man dress before. Pressed black slacks sit low on his narrow waist, drawing attention to his rock-hard flank. The muscles in his body coil and curve as he works his arms into the garment.
Once he’s tucked his shirt into his pants, he reaches for a tie on the tall dresser in front of him. A mirror is not needed as he loops it around his neck and ties it with precision. It’s a chore he’s done a thousand times before, but not for me—I can’t tear my eyes away. I presume cuff links are the next addition to his routine. Once he’s dressed, he opens a drawer and hunts for what I soon realize are socks.
Who would have thought watching a man dress, as opposed to undressing, could be sexy as hell? Maybe my brain really is fried. Or it could be his musky cologne clouding my good judgment.
“Morning.”
I squeak in surprise, completely busted. I wonder how long he knew I was watching.
“Morning,” I reply, my voice hoarse.
“Sleep okay?”
Shifting upright, I lean against the headboard, drawing the blanket over my chest. “Yes, I did, actually. Best sleep I’ve had in ages. Must be the silk sheets.”
Roman chuckles before turning and almost giving me a near heart attack. His hair is damp, the longer strands tousled. On cue, he runs his fingers through it, combing it back. He hasn’t shaved, so his scruff is longer, more rugged.
I remember to close my mouth when a dimple presses into his left cheek. “Do you want anything to eat?”
The notion of food turns my stomach. “No, thanks.”
He sits at the foot of the bed, slipping on his socks and shoes. Once he’s done, he glances over his shoulder. “I have to go to work.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He wants me to leave, but he’s too polite to say. I attempt to push back the blankets but then freeze when Roman places his hand over my lower leg.
“No”—he grins—“I’m not kicking you out. I just meant I have to go, but you’re welcome to stay.”
“Stay here?” I question in case I’m lost in translation. Today is my day off, so I suppose I could, but I’m torn.
“Yes. You’re not confined to the room, however. This isn’t a Stephen King novel.” I shake my head, smirking. “I’ll be back around two thirty.”
“Are you sure it’s okay to stay here?”
“Of course. I’ve hidden all valuables and locked the liquor cabinet.” I burst into laughter, loving this easiness between us. He squeezes my leg before standing. “And besides, Freud will love having a playmate.” On cue, a loud, excited bark sounds at the door. “Make yourself at home. If you need me, just call my cell.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Reaching for his blazer off the back of a chair, he pockets his keys, wallet, and phone. “Ready?” he asks with a smile.
“Ready?” I arch a brow.
My question is answered a moment later.
The moment he opens the door, a boisterous Golden Retriever comes charging into the bedroom, jumping onto the bed with one big leap. He has no problem invading my personal space as he falls into my lap, demanding belly rubs.
“Hey, big fella,” I coo, scratching under his chin before going to town on his stomach.
Roman hides his smile beneath his palm. “I think he likes you.”
“Well, the feeling is most definitely mutual.” I continue scratching his belly with both hands, laughing when his big pink tongue droops from the side of his mouth. “Have a good day. Your fur baby is in good hands.”
“I can see that. Lucky Freud.” He shrugs into his blazer while I feel my cheeks blister. He gives us one final look before he leaves, the front door closing a few seconds later.
When it’s just us, I exhale loudly. “Your daddy is something else.” Freud yaps in harmony.
I stand, thankful I’m steady on my feet. After last night, I didn’t know what to expect.
I peer around the doorjamb, not sure which direction the kitchen is. Freud barks once and pads down the carpeted hallway. With nothing to lose, I follow. As he takes a right, I see that up ahead is the kitchen. Clever dog.
The small but well-stocked kitchen is bright and homey. Two high-backed wooden barstools are lined up beneath the marble counter. A fruit bowl with one