Breathe You In (Sweet Torment 1)

“By ditching my driver and walking half naked across town?”

I looked down at myself. “I’m not half naked.” True, I wasn’t wearing any undergarments, but it wasn’t obvious.

“You can’t do that, Amy!” He gently shook my shoulders, and I saw a look of utter terror behind his normally steely stare. “You can’t just take off. I had no idea where you were. What had happened to you.” His tone was harsh, but there was that familiar glimpse of pain behind his words and expression. Like I had truly scared him.

“I’m an adult, Roman.”

“You’re mine, Amy,” he said, and a tremor slid over my skin. “If we disagree, fine. I’ll take you home. But don’t run off and disappear. Do you understand?”

Water danced on the rims of my eyes, and my shoulders slumped from the weight of tonight. Too much. It was all too much, and I had no idea how to process it all.

“No, Roman. I don’t understand.”

He glanced at the ground and gently rubbed my shoulders. Pulling me into another hug, he kissed my forehead and whispered, “I don’t either.”

His warmth and scent surrounded me. I gave myself up to the moment, to him, because there was nowhere left to run and nothing else to do. Roman seemed just as confused as I was. Earlier, when he had been trying to create distance between sex and feelings, he’d been upset when I’d left. In light of that, his behavior now didn’t make much sense. Whatever was going through his mind, whatever he was feeling, I didn’t know. But right then, I felt like he truly cared. Maybe that was something.

Or maybe I was once again being naïve.

“Not many people scare me,” he said against my brow. “Don’t do it again.”

I nodded, resigned to letting go for tonight. I needed time, space, rest. I needed my nerves to calm and my perception of reality to right itself before tackling this issue that was Roman Reese. I needed a clear head.

“Will you please take me home?” I asked.

He looked down at me, and that slight flame of vulnerability flickered across his face. Whatever thoughts caused that hurt, that unease, I wanted to know. To help him. I was sure that this time, he was going to say something. Something to give me a glimpse into the darkness he kept bottled up.

Instead, the only word he uttered was, “Yes.”

“Thank you for coming,” Roman said close to my ear.

They were the first words Roman had spoken directly to me since Monday night’s disaster. It was now Saturday, and while I had gotten a few text messages and e-mails, there had been no verbal communication until now. I had heard the phrase “leaving with your panties in your purse” before, but I’d had no idea how humiliating it could be. To say my emotions had been tumultuous would be an understatement. It had been days, but my body was still humming with confusion and achy from the amount of stress and adrenaline endured that night.

Now, standing in the governor’s mansion and getting ready for the fundraiser, I worked on taking calming breaths and focusing on the external environment. I had no desire to be inside my head right now, or to overthink how to handle the spiral staircase of feelings I was currently treading. Besides, every time I tried, I came up with no solution. I liked Roman, but the situation was tricky. Nope. I would tackle that later. Right now, I needed to prepare for tonight’s fundraiser.

Between the setup and the people bustling around, it didn’t look like the subtly lit, quiet home I’d visited just a few days earlier. The organized chaos was a welcome distraction.

I looked up at Roman, my heels squeaking as I adjusted to the brand-new stilettos.

“You’re welcome,”

I said.

I didn’t know where we stood after Monday’s fiasco. But there was something in his eyes: a softness. The thing I was now calling “The Real Roman” burned in those charcoal depths.

I turned to face him as people continued to rush by, setting up chairs and coordinating where the orchestra would be staged. I simply focused on Roman.

“I shouldn’t have left the way I did the other night,” I said.

He lifted his chin slightly and gave me a look that was wary and cautious, as though I was luring him to his doom.

“You were right,” I continued. “It wasn’t smart. It could have been dangerous, and,” I shrugged, “it was definitely kind of stupid to leave without any money, house keys, or cell phone.”

He scoffed, but I caught sight of a small smile. Roman wasn’t offering to share any of his own thoughts, so I was doing the only thing I could to move on: taking responsibility for my part.

“I usually don’t get so upset. I felt like you were toying with me. But I’ll be more prepared in the future.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t toying with you.”