He looks distressed, his eyes round with a wild quality to them.
I had no idea he felt any of this. He might be breathless, but I am speechless.
Rome pauses for a breath, quieting marginally. “I honestly like you, Colette. You are not my joke. You’re a treasure.”
18
First Kiss
Colette
All the arguments I had stored up leave me feeling foolish for suspecting the worst of Rome.
“I didn’t believe in you,” comes my hushed reply. “I didn’t believe the best but jumped right to the worst.” I lower my chin because I can admit when I am wrong, even if it feels like crap. “You tried to help me, and I shanked you for it. I’m sorry, Rome. I got all turned around.”
I expect a haughty “No kidding,” but instead I get a measured yet firm, “Coletta, I am not leaving this office until I kiss you.”
I glance up, certain I heard him wrong. “What?”
Orlando’s voice crackles at a higher pitch. “Um, guys? Could you not include me in this? Sorry for the mix-up, Rome. You alright, Coco?”
I nod, sniffling as I swipe the heel of my palm across my cheek. “I think so.”
Rome picks up the phone. “You did the right thing, Orlando. Always check my steps to make sure I’m not putting a toe out of line. I don’t like that you didn’t come to me with this, but anyone who cares about my tré-sur can stab me in the back all he wants if he thinks he is protecting her. You’re a good man.”
Orlando grumbles. “How about you kiss her and tell me nothing about it. This is officially me knowing nothing about the bomb you two are playing with. This is a bad idea, Cousin. It was bad when I thought you were stringing her along. It’s somehow worse now that it’s all for real.”
Rome ends the call, meeting my gaze with utter sincerity beaming from him.
It’s the first time I notice the bags under his eyes, though it’s barely noon. “I’m sorry I put you through all of that.”
Rome excuses my apology with a wave of his hand. “I think we handled our first fight fairly well.” He points to the space between us. “I wasn’t kidding, though. I’m not leaving until I kiss you.”
I guffaw at his gall. “Are you serious? I’m a mess. I’ve been crying and I just accused you of… This is hardly a romantic moment.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll be a terrible kisser. Then I’ll be able to kick this infatuation once and for all. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. It’s not like me. I’m acting like a mated man.”
I guffaw, baffled at his choice of words. “Well, you’re not. Vampires can’t mate with humans. That’s not a thing.”
Rome rolls his eyes at the obvious fact. “I know that. And I know it’s not really happening, but from what other vampires have described, this is what that sounds like.” He shakes his head, fear suddenly coming over him. “Being mated is a fate worse than death. There are a lot of obvious reasons why we shouldn’t be together, but one relief is that we can never be mated.”
I tilt my head at him. “Is it really so horrible?” I hold up my hands. “I don’t know much about it.”
“It’s the worst fate I can think of. If it was us, I could feel your lower swings. If you were upset with me, I wouldn’t be able to sleep until you were okay. I mean, talk about a recipe for instant manipulation. I wouldn’t care as much about Mayfield or my family or even myself. You and your needs would be the center of my universe, whether you were a good person or not. I would be beholden to you.”
I swallow hard. “It sounds like love, but with obsession added in. You’re right; that does sound bad.”
“I’m glad we won’t have to deal with that. We can dote on each other in a healthy, normal way.” His mouth pulls to the side. “Like, you know, sneaking around so no one finds out about us.”
I snigger.
Rome runs his hand through his hair. “I like knowing that my feelings are mine. That some magical force isn’t controlling me. I don’t mind that I can’t stop thinking about you. I keep going out of my way to make sure your life is better because it’s my choice. I’m falling faster than I thought possible. Sometimes it scares me.” His nose crinkles in disgust. “I don’t make cannoli for people!”
I blink up at him, uncertain of so much, but unwilling to leave before I understand. “That’s a shame. It was delicious.”
“You ate them?”
“I ate part of one.” My voice lowers as if I am confessing to a crime. “It was the best dessert of my life. You should make them more often, Rome.”
“I guess I’ll be making them more often.” The corner of his mouth lifts. I am fairly certain Rome has never been sexier. Then a plea comes over him, almost as if the small gap between our bodies is causing him physical pain. “Please, Coletta.”
Kissing Rome isn’t a line I should be crossing, but when I stand, I know that is exactly what I am about to do. “One kiss, and maybe the crush will fade. You’re right. Maybe you taste like blood and dirty fish.”
He moves around my desk to stand in front of me, blanching at my description. “Best get this out of our system. It’s nothing more than old-fashioned infatuation. Scratch the itch, and it goes away.”
Though as he says the words, it’s clear neither of us believes them.
“Don’t go away,” he whispers, sounding very much like a man with his heart on his sleeve.
I can’t believe I questioned him.
When he reaches out to touch my face, I bite down on my lower lip. I love the feel of his fingers on my cheek, tracing my top lip as if he has no idea what that does to a woman. We have talked on the phone every night since our big encounter, and I have imagined him doing exactly this every time.
“Stop me,” he warns. “I shouldn’t be kissing you.”
“Rome,” I breathe, wondering if he can hear the uneven hammering of my heart.
When his lips touch on mine, the entire world stops spinning. The bustle of the salon on the other side of my door fades into nothing when his lips connect with mine so very tenderly.
This isn’t happening. I’ve imagined this dozens of times since that first night when he came to the salon, but the anticipation of this scandal is nothing to the reality of this moment. It’s not the forbidden nature of our pairing (though that’s in the mix, to be sure); it’s the softness of Rome’s lips that instantly addicts me to the act of kissing this beautiful man.
Both of us freeze while the world cracks in two and shatters around us, bowing to the newness of our kiss.
Rome’s thumb sweeps over the apple of my cheek, and I’m a goner. My lips part for another, and then another. Soon enough, I am collecting kisses like perfect petals sent from above just for me. Rome tastes like a cinnamon treat that I cannot stop savoring. His lips are soft with their cunning tease. They might never stop drawing me in, now that I’ve had my first taste.
I was supposed to kick my crush, not run headfirst into the euphoria. But the more I taste of Rome’s lips, the headier my obsession becomes. His kiss morphs from hesitant and uncertain to firm and fulfilling. He cusses between kisses now, holding my face so he can lean into the passion. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
My hand reaches up, taking on a life of its own so it can fulfill its fantasy of feeling the firmness of his pecs. “We should stop.” But we both know I won’t. I don’t think I could pull away if I wanted to, which I don’t.
If anything, I need more.
I tug him closer, biting down on the freckle dotting his lower lip. I haven’t been able to scrub it from my mind, so I take it between my lips, claiming it as my treasure.
His moan of desire floods my senses, overriding the common sense that would have me hold back from what I want.
I hate that my life has been about holding back, that I have to question my desire this much. I am expected to settle for ice cold blind dates. What I really want is the heat that Rome and I can conjure out of hope and a fight right here in my office.
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br /> I can feel his fangs, which is a new thrill that comes from doing something dangerous. All vampires have more pronounced canines, though nothing terribly dramatic or animalistic. Still, I notice the difference when my tongue dances with his, sweeping across his top row of teeth just because I can.
“Am I scaring you?” Rome asks, sounding genuinely worried. Like if there was a way he could hide his canines from me, he would.
“No,” I tell him between kisses. “I’m safe with you.” And it really is true. I’m not afraid he’ll bite me. I am the one person in the world who is protected from that fate. Because if Rome bit me once, he would die on the spot.
Yes, it’s a dangerous game we’re playing, toying with fate, which so clearly wants us to be far apart.
“You are safe with me,” Rome promises, and I truly believe him.
His free arm wraps around me, pressing my body to his so there is no escaping the harsh reality that this is happening. Neither of us are going to pull the cord to stop this thing. Desperation takes over both of us at the exact same moment, turning the passionate kiss into rough grabbing and messy kisses that grow more chaotic by the second. My chair is pushed away from us and papers scatter to the floor.
He doesn’t go easy on me, and I love the ride.
I fight back just as hard, kissing and biting while his groans trade themselves for mine, filling the air with a desperation I never want to give up. I don’t want something safer if it means forfeiting the feel of his hands on me. He grabs onto my hip, coveting the spot he told me he has been lusting after.
My body arcs for him, giving itself over so he can play and peruse while I explore his tight torso. I want to see his chest. I want to kiss a line down his sternum. Heat flares in me so much that my fingers do what they want before my brain can decide if this is a good idea.
The more I have of Rome, the more I want.
As I unbutton and untuck his shirt, I am well aware we passed reason a long time ago. There is no common sense, only craving as I tear his shirt down his arms, kissing him hard enough to stave off any resistance that threatens to separate us. His undershirt slides over his head, giving me the view I have been salivating for.
I need this man, this kiss, and I normally don’t like needing anything I can’t do myself. But there is no question about it: the more I have of Rome, the more I must have. My palms slide over the musculature of his chest, addicting me further.
The air shifts around us, sending a chill through my body—a warning of something to come.
I’m not sure if I hear it or I feel it, but a clear and distinct popping vibration sends a jolt from my palms into his chest, surprising us both.
Did I give him a static shock?
“Something’s happening,” Rome tells me. He rubs his chest but then fuses his lips to mine again, as if he needs to be kissing me to breathe properly.
I very much know the feeling.
“Coletta?” He sounds worried, yet his kisses are certain, determined we will make the most of this stolen moment. “Did you feel that?”
The reality of the danger we are steeped in floods me like a warning shot from a gun, finally breaking me away from him. It’s as if my conscience shoved me back. “Rome, be careful! We have to stop. Did I hurt you?” I touch my lip, suddenly terrified. “If you nick my lip with your fangs, you’ll die!”
And just like that, I am on the other side of the office, clinging to the wall, not because he is the danger, but because I am. I could have killed him. I wasn’t exactly careful, losing all control like that.
Rome’s undershirt slides back over his torso, but his dress shirt is hanging open as he presses his hand to his heart. His breath comes in rough gusts while he struggles to get ahold of himself. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s not your blood; it’s something else.” He touches his heart. “I feel strange. Did you feel that? Something popping?”
I nod, overwhelmed and on the edge of a breakdown. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you!”
Rome’s entire demeanor softens as he clears the gap between us, holding my face in his hands. “You didn’t hurt me, tré-sur. I don’t know what that was. Like something cut my chest, but there’s no mark. I’m not even sure it was painful, only surprising. Are you okay?”
I gape up at him, flustered and completely at a loss. My voice comes out shrill and pinched. “Are you kidding me? None of what we just did is okay! I could have killed you! You realize that, yes? My blood is dangerous for you to be near. I’m… Rome, I’m so sorry! I lost my head. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You were feeling?” Rome thumbs my cheekbones, peering into my face with compassion and genuine concern for my angst. There’s not a trace of fear for his own life. “I know what you mean. I can’t remember the last time I let go and actually enjoyed a moment. That was incredible.” He kisses my lips just once, soft and gentle—a tender offering of sweetness to smooth over the ravaging we did to each other. “Everything is fine. We’ll take this slower, so you don’t worry about anything bad happening when we kiss.”
Then Rome does something so precious, my knees actually go weak. He nuzzles my nose, moving from left to right. I quiver through the shockwaves his sweetness sends through my entire being.
I savor the loveliness, holding it in my heart so I can remember this beautiful moment for years to come. Everything about him is brighter now, less encumbered by life.
When a knock stiffens my spine, Rome pecks my lips. “I’ll handle it. Everything is going to be fine. Say it, Coletta.”
“Everything is going to be fine,” I echo, though we both know it’s not.
When Rome pulls away from me to button up his shirt and open the door, my body immediately feels the absence. “Just finishing up. Your boss will be out in a minute.”
Rachel’s voice is tight but cheerful. “Can you tell her we’re running low on her shampoo?”
“Will do.”
The moment Rome shuts the door and locks it behind him, I bury my face in my hands. “She knows! This is going to be a disaster, Rome.”
I’m surprised to find strong arms around me. “She doesn’t suspect a thing. It’s alright.”
Being held is somehow just as impactful as our earthshattering kiss. I cannot remember the last time a man wrapped his arms around me so beautifully. Being treated like a uterus to be auctioned off has made me wary of men. Whenever I’ve needed to be held, I held myself, or I hugged Declan. There weren’t many men willing to wrap their arms around me who didn’t have some serious agenda behind the show of sweetness.
Yet as Rome holds me to his chest, gently rocking me from side to side, I realize more fully the bliss I have been missing out on all these years. My worries aren’t all on me to figure out by myself anymore; he is bearing a few of them so I’m not in this alone.
I never want him to let me go.
“This,” I tell him, closing my eyes while my heart flutters against his. “I need more of this. Always this.” I could burrow my body in his embrace and never feel the need to shake off the closeness.
“I will not let anything bad happen to us,” Rome promises, though I know there is no way he can make good on that. “Now we know this isn’t just a crush. Let’s not waste any more time pretending this is something that will fade away. I want to be with you, Coletta, whatever that looks like.”
Panic threatens to rise in me again. “It’s not possible!”
“What’s not possible is pretending we can go our separate ways.” Rome tilts my chin up so he can kiss me again, reminding us both of the beauty that is worth fighting for. “I will find a way.” His eyes grow serious as he searches my face. “Which day can you slip away each week?”
I shake my head. “The family is everywhere. I take one day off a week, and I use it to run errands.”
“You might need to run errands in Fowlerville.”
I balk at his suggestion, but then start to see his reasoning. “No one from the city is driving three hours away on a Wednesday. You
’re right.”
“Wednesdays, it is. I’ll meet you at…” He pauses, and I can tell he’s fishing around for a landmark. “There’s a beach in Fowlerville. I’ll meet you there at noon, and we’ll spend the day together. Promise me, Coletta. I won’t let you slip through my fingers. My assistant will run your errands. I need that day with you.”
I swallow hard, knowing this has gone well beyond anything I can put a stop to now. I’ve already crossed a line by kissing him, but this? We’re making plans together.
I should end it now, but when I open my mouth, I know I cannot be untrue to myself and still sleep at night. “It’s a date.”
Pure joy sweeps over Rome, lighting up his entire body.
I’ve never seen his full-blown smile before. The sight of something this magnificent takes me by surprise. My mouth falls open in wonder, gaping up at the sight that is Rome when he is truly happy. I can’t stop staring; I am utterly transfixed. “You’re beautiful,” I gasp, giving in to unvarnished honesty, since that is the game we’re playing.
He chuckles lightly, kissing me once more and squeezing me close.
The steady beat of his heart lulls me. It’s louder than it should be, or maybe I am more attuned to him because he is pressed up against me. But even when he releases my body so he can tuck in his shirt and reassemble himself, his heartbeat remains in my ears.
And that’s when it hits me that I belong in Rome’s arms, cuddled close. The thrum of his heart is now louder to me than the disapproving noise of the rest of the world.
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