How would it feel to have him above me, all that raw, lean power dominating me? And I’d give myself over so freely. God, would I give myself over to him.
I clenched my thighs together, thankful he couldn’t see the act and guess why I was doing it, the crazy reaction he conjured in me.
Because just looking at him, and that small touch of his hand on mine, had me wet.
No matter how hard I tried to act controlled and calm, I felt like I failed miserably, like he could read me as easily as this open book in front of me.
“I’ll be there to protect you.”
I looked down and stared at his hand on mine, at the way he rubbed his thumb along the top of my wrist. Every part of me tingled, came alive. “I don’t know if I’d fit in, Roman. I don’t know if I’d really feel comfortable there.”
This expression of disappointment washed over his face, but he masked it just as quickly as it had come, replacing it with understanding.
“No pressure, Kennedy. I don’t want you to feel like you have to and I certainly don’t want you being uncomfortable. But you are welcome if you change your mind.” He let his hand linger on the back of mine for a suspended moment.
But then he slowly took it off, as if he were forcing himself. I could almost think that he wanted to keep it there. But again, that might just be wishful thinking.
“I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Roman still sat there for a moment, staring at me, our gazes locked. And then he stood and left, and I couldn’t help but watch him leave, wanting to ask him to stay, that I wanted to spend time with him, that I … loved him.
Why was this so hard? Why did loving Roman have to come with so many complications?
Or maybe the only complication was the fact that I cared what people thought.
Chapter Eight
Roman
I looked at the clock. Only ten more minutes before this sociology class was let out. I didn’t have a major locked down yet, but it didn’t matter anyway since I had so many prerequisites to get through first. And since I was going part-time it was taking me so fucking long.
At this rate, an associate’s degree would take me twice as long to get.
I rubbed my eyes, thinking I should have stayed home today, or maybe picked up some extra hours at the shop. At least I would have been doing something aside from sitting here thinking about Kennedy and all the ways I would screw it up when I finally told her I loved her.
My head just wasn’t in classes today, not when all I could think about were my plans for Kennedy, and finally having the balls to admit how I felt.
All I could think about was talking with Kennedy at the library, feeling so damn nervous and how that was so unlike me. I didn’t let shit bother me. But loving a girl that you “shouldn’t” was damn exhausting.
I told myself if she came to the party I would tell her how I felt, that I wouldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t have to wait until then, but that was the ultimatum I’d given myself, that I would work up the nerve to do it then.
And if she didn’t come to the party? Then I had to be honest with her regardless. Because holding this all in for the last two years, each day becoming harder than the next, was eating me up. I was done with it, done with the fucks I gave about what anyone thought.
Class finally let out and I shoved my books in my bag. I headed out, my focus on my cell, wishing I had a missed text from Kennedy. Maybe she’d call me to let me know she was coming. Fuck, I was so far gone for her.
Just as I was putting my phone away, I ran into someone, my bag being knocked to the ground.
“Shit, dude. My bad.” Theo’s voice was clear and I looked up at him as I bent to pick up my bag. “You were in one big, fucking hurry.”
I straightened and looked at Theo. He looked juiced up over something. Excited. I knew he wouldn’t make me wait to ask him. Theo had loose lips, tended to run his mouth when he was eager about something.
“Got some chicks lined up for Saturday, man. And by chicks, I mean that hot as fuck piece in my American Lit class.”
I didn’t respond because I didn’t give two fucks about who he was trying to hook up with.
My disinterest must have been evident because he furrowed his brows.
“Dude, come on.”
“Come on what?” I started making my way toward the front doors.