Devoured - Cathryn Fox Page 0,9
a bead of water from my bottom lip. “I’m not a child.”
He inhales sharply and tears his gaze away from my mouth. “Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.” He tips the bottle to his lips and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he finishes it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Roman. You said it, so it’s something.”
“Can we just drive to the villa in peace, Peyton? I’m exhausted.”
“No, I want to know what you meant, and I don’t snore, I—”
“We’re on the same page here, Peyton. A team.” His gaze drops to mine, focuses on my mouth again, when he asks, “Do you have to question everything I do?”
“When it comes to you, I—”
Before I realize what’s happening, he cups my chin, drags me closer, and presses his lips to mine. Sweet baby Jesus. My protest dies a sudden death on my tongue, and as much as I hate this man, I sink into his kiss as it stirs a need inside me. His warm lips move over mine, commanding, possessive, unwavering and...antagonistic. Nevertheless, I moan into his mouth, my hand gripping the front of his dress shirt. He breaks the kiss and I just sit there, perfectly still, my mouth still poised open. He inches back and cold air moves in between us, snapping some sense back into me.
I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand, his alluring taste lingering as I glare at him. “Why did you do that?”
“Did you hate it?” My mind doesn’t seem to want to work as his deep voice trickles through me, caressing all the parts he stirred awake with that fierce kiss. “Well, did you?”
He can’t for one minute think I hated it. Not after the way I moaned. “Yes,” I state flatly, and lift my chin a notch.
“Good, then every time you start yelling at me, or argue or give me a hard time, I’m going to kiss you.”
“Like hell you—” He gives me a warning glare and my mouth slams shut. Although, and I hate to admit it, there is a part of me that wants to be defiant, just to push his buttons...just to get him to kiss me again.
Stupid jerk.
“I hate you,” I mumble under my breath, sounding like a ridiculous, petulant child.
“Good.”
Good?
Really?
He wants me to hate him?
“I wasn’t yelling,” I mumble. It’s true, I wasn’t, but I can’t deny that I was beginning to annoy myself with all the questions.
We drive in silence, the heated tension between us enough to fog the window. After a short drive, we pull up in front of a building and I peer out at it. The place is pitch-black, and I can’t see much other than it has two stories and a rooftop.
“This is it?” I ask.
“Yes, let’s get settled. It’s been a long day.”
I had very little sleep on the plane, most of it interrupted with unsolicited dreams of the man beside me, but as I take in the place, a new kind of energy sizzles through me. I doubt I’ll fall asleep tonight, but that’s not unusual. I wrap my arms around my body as I climb from the car, and Elias retrieves our luggage. Roman speaks to him for a moment and we head toward our villa.
“Where exactly are we?” I ask in a low voice, not wanting to wake anyone in the neighborhood.
“We’re in Upper Gardens. It’s a quiet community in St. Julian’s, and very close to all amenities.”
“How far are we from the school?”
“Walking distance,” he says, his voice low, matching mine. He punches in a code to the door and pushes it open.
The night air is warm, but my body is chilled. It’s always chilled, even more so when I’m in new situations or going on little to no sleep. I remember as a child lying wide-awake in bed for hours on end, my body arctic cold as I waited for the knock on the door to come—it always came—telling me it was time to go to a different foster home. I step closer to Roman and try to absorb his body warmth, but the cold remains.
“If the school is walking distance, why do I need a driver at my disposal?” I ask.
He mumbles something about me talking too much under his breath and I’m about to ask even more questions when he flicks on the lights and my words fall off. I glance around the spacious villa, beautifully decorated in black, chrome and