Breathe You In (Sweet Torment 1)

“Why don’t you start where Bill left off?” I suggested.

“Do you and the governor stay in separate rooms?”

“Yes.” Quick and concise. Bill would be proud. But why not elaborate? “And we do so because lately, the governor doesn’t seem interested in being in any room with me for too long.”

His jaw ticked. “That doesn’t sound like something Bill would have advised you to say, nor is it accurate.”

“It’s not?” I shrugged. “Because it’s an accurate observation.”

“I enjoy being in any room with you, so long as we both understand that what happens in that room means something different to me than it does to you.”

“And why is that?” I lifted my chin. “What I want and what I can handle are two different things. Shutting down completely is impossible, especially when we’re together.” I enunciated the last word so he would know what kind of “together” I meant. “I’m not going to break down or go overboard, but it’s just stupid for you to deny everything emotional between us. And I don’t know why you do it.”

“Is that what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to think? We’re in a relationship, are we not?” I raised my brows, challenging his own rules about our arrangement, and the fact that we weren’t allowed to voice that reality unless he permitted it. He clearly didn’t like that. Well, too bad. He’d gotten to play the “couple card,” now it was my turn.

“We are together, right?” I asked again.

“We are. And my hope is that you’ll trust me and know that my treatment of you comes from a place of concern.”

“I don’t need your concern. And it’s ironic that you want my trust when you won’t budge on doing the same. Believe it or not, I can handle more than you think.”

“I’m very aware of that, Amy. But I pushed your limits before we were clear—”

“I like it when you push my limits,” I cut in. “What I don’t like is the aftermath, when you pretend that it meant absolutely nothing.”

I took another step, closing in on him. Maybe some explanation and action would hammer home my point.

“I liked the night in your room, the way you felt…inside of me,” I whispered. I’d

never said such things out loud, but if I wanted to salvage this bond between us, it was time for honesty. “I miss that feeling, Roman. I miss you.”

“Amy…” It was more of a croak than a voice.

But I was done pretending that I was okay with the distance growing between us.

For the last two weeks, I had been colder than I had since Lauren died. It was the kind of deep chill that creeps up and settles in your bones when you’ve lost something you’re not ready to let go of.

I wasn’t ready to lose Roman.

Not yet.

Not this way.

If there was one thing I did know, it was that having a choice was a powerful thing. And I had some to make. Either let others, including Roman, dismiss my worth, or show them otherwise.

I didn’t know what Roman and I were, but whatever it was, while large parts of it were built on falsehoods, there was something very real at its heart. I’d felt it the night I met Roman at the gala. Though brief, there was an intense connection, an uncertain draw to one another.

There was something very wounded, very genuine about Roman Reese, and I had gotten a glimpse of it. I wasn’t ready to toss that. It was that small part of him I held on to, the one real thing I identified with. It was simply him. When all the bullshit, swagger, and stature were peeled away, the titles, strategy, and politics pushed aside, I was left with Roman: The man. Which was what I wanted. Needed.

He felt real.

We felt real.

I took another step. I could reach out and touch him, but I didn’t. Instead I said, “Next question.”

He took a long moment to look at the paper before he finally asked it.