Breathe You In (Sweet Torment 1)

This was the side of Roman I didn’t care for. But it was apparently something I had to get used to. The only good thing about his attitude was that it seemed to bring my strong side to the surface, because I wasn’t feeling very shy, polite, or nice at the moment.

“What your presence did was basically start rumors that I’m sleeping my way to the top. I’m actually good at what I do,” I emphasized the last word. “Now all of that doesn’t matter, because I’ll just be the governor’s girlfriend. Not to mention the impression it gives when you waltz in and demand special privileges from my boss just so I can skip work.”

“I didn’t demand.”

“Oh, yes, you did. Only you did it in your backwards, charming way so that it was hard to notice. Like she’d ever have said no to you.”

He finally looked me in the eye and, with a way too sexy smile said, “You think I’m charming?”

I wanted to growl. Infuriating man! “I think you’re irritating.”

“Well, that’s better than indifference.” He faced forward again. “At least I know I get you hot.”

My mouth hung open, again, which was becoming a common occurrence around Roman. He glanced at me again, daring me to lie and say he didn’t have that effect.

I snapped my mouth shut. I was mad, raging mad, but my body was thrumming, and my heart racing. I wanted to claw at him as much as kiss him, and the fact that he knew just made it worse.

“The reason our relationship works is because we keep each other’s needs at the forefront of our minds,” he said.

My brows shot toward my hairline. “You mean, I keep your needs at the forefront of my mind. Because right now, you don’t seem to give a damn about mine. Whatever happens between us is irrelevant to my present professional situation. I still have to prove I’m the best candidate for that job. I have to actually, you know, work, to get it.”

“I just told your boss that your organization is going to play a major part in the anti-drug campaign.”

“Which has nothing to do with me! You saying those things doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t secured funds. I haven’t even gotten donors interested. All I have is a handful of maybes. When I agreed—”

His glare nearly burned my skin when it landed on me. I swallowed and regrouped. Having a conversation with this man was more work than I had ever thought just talking could involve.

“I want our relationship to work,” I started slowly. Making sure I used the correct verbiage. “And I know that dating you comes with strings.”

“You mean perks,” he grinned.

Right now, it came with a sporadic heartbeat and trembling hands, but nevertheless, I forced myself to keep calm and continue.

“Roman, despite what happens between us, I still have a life I have to live. A job I have to go to. If I don’t produce something by November, at the end of this election season, I won’t get that job.”

The position would have to be filled by then, and that person would likely be responsible for overseeing the management of the new facility’s opening. If we got the funding, of course. Either way, Silas was ahead of me in terms of tangible progress. If I didn’t get the Level Two position, there would be no reason for me to stay in New York. I was already tapping into my savings on a regular basis to supplement my income and pay bills. That would only last me a few more months. The thought of moving back home to Indiana, where my parents and all their misery waited, made me a little nauseous.

I needed to make this work, acquire a real income, and make Lauren’s House a reality. The alternative would be to deal with another failure, and all the disappointment that came with it.

“Do you always wear skirts to work?”

I frowned. Where did that come from? “Most of the time.”

“Why not pants?”

I shook my head. “I, ah…what does this have to do with anything?”

“I’m curious.” His eyes left a trail of heat as his gaze skated over my knees, up my legs, and to my breasts before he looked forward again.

“The only pants I wear are jeans, and that goes against the dress code.”

“Why don’t you wear slacks?”

Holy cow, what was this? Wardrobe interrogation?

“Because I don’t like the way they fit me, okay? Why don’t you wear jeans?” I fired back.

“Because I rarely have the opportunity. Why don’t they fit you?”