“I’m not here to fuck you, Beth.” He spoke softly, his hands running over the soft silk of my robe, down my arms to my fingers. I jumped back, both relieved and confused.
Well, this is embarrassing.
I turned away so he couldn’t see the violent red burning across my cheeks. How had I read that so wrong? What could he possibly want from me if it wasn’t that?
“Why are you here, then?” I muttered, rubbing my fingers along my forehead. This was quickly turning into another experience I wanted to forget. But erasing him from my mind wouldn’t be that easy.
“I told you,” he said simply. “I wanted to see you again. I wanted to check that you were okay.”
“You’ve met me once. I don’t even know your name. And somehow, I doubt the impression could’ve left you wanting more,” I said dryly, trying to shrug off the humiliation I was feeling.
He chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”
Would I? Now I was even more confused.
“Roman. My name’s Roman.”
“Roman,” I repeated, liking the way it rolled off my tongue. It suited him. “So you don’t want to fuck me, then why are you here?” I repeated. Just get to the point, then go, so I can die cringing.
His eyes sparkled. He was amused. Great, I’m glad one of us is. Was he playing with me? Flirting? If this was his idea of chatting up a girl, then he needed some serious lessons.
“I never said I didn’t want to fuck you, Beth,” he drawled, walking over to the sofa and sinking down in it. He cocked his head and studied me. “Trust me, quite the opposite, really. I’d love nothing more than to drag you down to your bedroom and fuck you senseless all day.” His abrasiveness caught me by surprise.
I stood there, my eyes wide, not sure how to respond. Guys usually weren’t this hard to figure out. I slowly walked toward him and sat down with enough distance between us that I felt I could relax. Slowly, the embarrassment was giving way to the need for me to know what he found so interesting about me.
I thought back to the club. My memory was foggy, but what I could remember was him sitting there and just watching. No participation, no self-action. Nothing, just his eyes on mine as another chick fingered me.
“Okay. So you want to fuck me. But you’re not here to fuck me,” I said, running a hand through my long hair. God, I was so embarrassed.
He chuckled, his eyes narrowing in on me as he processed whatever it was he found so fucking amusing. His enjoyment of this was irritating the hell out of me.
“Roman, you seem like a decent guy, but I don’t have time for games, okay? Tell me what you want, or get out of my house,” I said tersely.
He raised his eyebrows, a wide grin invading his mouth, which only served to annoy me even more. “Do you always get what you want, Beth?”
“No,” I answered truthfully. If that were the case, I wouldn’t be sitting here with him right now. I’d be sitting here with Coop.
He didn’t look convinced. “You strike me as the type of girl who goes after what she wants.”
“I do. That doesn’t mean it always works out how I want it to.”
He nodded slowly, as if he hadn’t considered that a girl like me might not actually get everything she wanted. Why was everyone so quick to conclude that my life was like this perfect little world where everything Beth wanted, she got?
My entire life had been one struggle after another, and yet I’d gotten through that. I’d made something of my life where many people would’ve failed.
It would have been so easy for me to go the other way. I could’ve ended up like my mother—hooked on crack, and selling my body for next to nothing to get my next hit. But I didn’t. I’d worked hard to make something of myself.
“You think you know me, Roman, but the truth is, you don’t. You see me like everyone else does. This spoiled little brat who gets whatever she wants.” I laughed bitterly. “If you knew what I’d been through over the past . . . over my entire life, you’d know that I deserve what I have just as much as anyone else, and I’ve worked fucking hard to get where I am.”
Roman sat forward. He reached out, his hand grasping my thigh as his eyes bored into mine. I sat there, frozen, confused by the conflicting emotions pouring through me. How the hell could him touching me have me feeling terror and desire?
“Beth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that. I’m an idiot. I had no business assuming anything about you, because you’re right, I don’t know you.” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But I’d like to change that.”
“Why?” I asked, throwing my hands up in frustration.
“Why what?” His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Why are you so intent on getting to know me, Roman?”