Devoured - Cathryn Fox Page 0,10
white. The kitchen is sleek and modern, the living area lush and inviting. All the clean lines of its open concept give it an airy feel, and I like it. A lot.
I drop my purse and Roman stands at the door as I enter the place, taking it all in. I check the fridge and cupboards to find them fully stocked. After cataloging the main level, I hurry up the stairs to find two gorgeous bedrooms, floor-to-ceiling windows giving a clear view of the water, and a lovely contemporary shared bathroom in between the rooms. The place is absolutely breathtaking—and completely out of my budget.
I hurry back downstairs and find Roman locking up behind us. “Not so fast,” I say. “We can’t stay.”
He turns to face me, and his eyes are half-lidded, tired from the long day. “You don’t like it?”
“Of course I like it. What’s not to like?”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I raise a brow and give him a look that suggests he’s dense. “Roman, I’m a teacher. I can’t afford this kind of luxury.” My brother might be a multimillionaire, but that doesn’t mean I don’t pay my own way in life. I pride myself on my financial independence. Cason put me through college but I insisted on working part-time to provide for incidentals, even though he didn’t want me to.
“It’s covered, Peyton,” he says flatly.
“Why would you do this?” He hesitates, like he’s not sure how to answer. A second later he closes his hand over mine. His touch is so soft, so achingly tender, my stomach takes flight. His eyes narrow.
“You’re still cold,” he states.
I pull my hand away. “I’m fine.” He angles his head like he doesn’t believe me, but I don’t give him the chance to say anything. “I can’t believe you rented this place without even asking me, and had it stocked full of supplies.”
“I just wanted you in a safe place, close to your school, and the kitchen is stocked because we need to eat.”
“Roman, I—”
He captures my hand and when he pulls me close, my body meshing with his, I can’t for the life of me remember what it was I was going to say. His head dips and I hold my breath. Is he going to kiss me again?
Do I want that?
Oh God, I do.
“Before you say another word,” he begins, his voice an octave lower, “come with me.”
Giving me little choice in the matter, he ushers me up the stairs. We don’t stop on the bedroom level. Instead we go up another set of stairs and he pushes open a heavy door. It takes me a second to realize we’re now outside.
“Oh my God,” I say when I see the breathtaking view from the rooftop. It’s even better than from the second-floor bedroom. I turn and take in the long stretch of pool and crisp white outdoor furniture, shadowed beneath a pergola. I breathe in as the warm wind blows by, carrying the fresh scent of flowers with it. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I thought you might like the view.”
“You mean you thought it might shut me up,” I say, but I’m losing the will to fight. This is all too much for me, but it was incredibly sweet of him.
“Peyton,” he says, and spins me around until I’m facing him, our bodies flush. He rubs his hands up and down my arms to warm me. Awareness flitters through me, and I can’t seem to ignore it. “Maybe this isn’t about you,” he says. “Maybe it’s about me. Maybe I just wanted to stay somewhere nice, something that suits my needs and lifestyle more.”
He’s selling it, but I’m not buying. I don’t for one second believe this is about him. He might be a man used to luxuries, but everything in me, every ounce of women’s intuition I possess, says he picked this place for me because I’d like it—and that confuses the hell out of me. One minute he’s kissing me and laughing in my face, the next he’s flying me here on his Learjet, putting a gorgeous ring on my finger and swearing he’ll do whatever it takes to help me get this job.
This isn’t about you, Peyton.
It’s about my brother and their bond, and I’d be wise to remember that. Air leaves my lungs in a hiss, much like a leaky balloon deflating. What? Did I want this to be about me? No, I don’t even like this guy.
“It’s not a big deal, okay?” he says, but it’s kind of