move on their own, carrying me farther into the bedroom—Roman’s bedroom.
This is a bad idea. I should turn around right now and run back into my room. But…I can’t. My body craves this man’s presence, like an invisible force is pulling me toward him.
My feet move very slowly until I reach his bed. It’s easy to tell that he’s in it because I can make out his form beneath the sheets, the moon letting a sliver of light in through the window across the room. I run my fingers against the silky sheets as my gaze roams over Roman’s body. He has a blanket pulled up to his chin, covering his muscular chest.
His face is relaxed, making him look younger. I don't know how old he is, but right now, he doesn't look much older than me. I have this foolish urge to trace the contours of his face, to feel his skin beneath my touch. His lips are slightly parted, and I imagine myself kissing him…tasting him. I have no idea where this is coming from. I’ve never had these kinds of thoughts about a man before. Sex, attraction—it’s all a foreign concept to me.
The closer I get to him, the more at ease I feel. For a moment, I stand there, unsure of what I should do next. Do I wake him? I nibble on my bottom lip. He looks so peaceful...and would probably just send me back to my room—the last place I want to be right now.
I yawn. All I want to do is sleep. I eye the bed, contemplating the repercussions of sleeping beside him. What’s the worst that could happen?
Pushing the fear down, I quietly and carefully crawl into the bed, settling beside him. His scent washes over me, and a calmness encompasses my body. I curl up into a tiny ball on top of the blanket, pulling only a corner of the blanket over me. As soon as I relax into the mattress, I start to drift off to sleep, and for once, I don’t feel so alone.
25
Roman
I know something is off before I even open my eyes. My bed feels different, my blanket doesn’t smell the same—it’s as if the room has been tainted by something. I open my eyes and swing my gaze around the room. My hands curl into the bedsheets, and I can’t shake the strange feeling that something is off. I’m seconds away from throwing the covers back and getting out of bed when my ears perk up at a noise—a tiny whimper. A feminine one, which can’t be right. I didn’t have anyone here with me last night, anyone but…
I twist my body toward the noise. There, right beside me, lies Sophie, asleep, curled up in a tiny ball, in my bed, on top of the blankets. Her dark brown hair is draped over her face, and her chest rises and falls gently beneath my shirt, which swallows her entire body. As the shock seeps away, anger starts to take root. I told her I wasn’t her fucking babysitter, that I wasn’t going to stay with her and coddle her, but she snuck in here and did it anyway.
What the fuck is she thinking?
Did she try to wake me up? The fucking Adderall I take is great for keeping me awake during the day, but a fucking drag for putting me in a coma once I’m out. I’m not sure how I should feel about her sneaking in here. Part of me wants to throttle her, and…well, the other wants to protect her, pull her into my chest, and tell her no one will ever hurt her again.
Anger rushes to the surface at the mere thought of being anything more than a fucking landlord for this girl. She’s clearly not capable of fucking, and that’s all I’m good for. I can’t be thinking about protecting her or holding her in my arms.
I grit my teeth and force myself out of the bed. Blood pumps through my veins, my heart beating faster and faster as I stare long and hard at the sleeping girl in my bed. I know what I have to do next, and for some stupid fucking reason, I don’t like it. It should be easy for me to wake her up, yell at her, and send her back to her room, but something tells me it won’t be that easy.
I scrub a hand down my face in frustration, cursing my brother for giving her