Chapter 25 #2
It was a reminder that she could read me. I tried to calm my emotions, but it was impossible not to admire her. Not to want her. But her heart and my show were at stake. Both were important to me.
“With time and practice, you’ll be able to control your gifts more. And speaking of gifts. What are you doing to the men?”
The tip of her button nose pinked. “What do you mean?”
I tilted my head. “You know exactly what I mean. You’re stopping them from being romantically attracted to you.”
She shrugged. “Maybe,” she sang guiltily.
“Don’t deny it,” I growled. “You promised me that you would play along until we could figure out how to help your situation.”
She leaned out the window. “You haven’t been very helpful, now, have you? You’re not living up to your end of the bargain.”
I marched up to her. Until we were almost face-to-face. It wasn’t the brightest move. Her intoxicating scent hit me. Filled me with a relentless desire that refused to be quenched. I had to close my eyes and steady myself before I did something we couldn’t come back from.
“I’ve been busy with work, and your situation is complicated. It’s going to take some time to figure out.”
“I don’t have time, Roman,” she whispered.
My name so gentle on her lips opened my eyes.
She stood there, so vulnerable, so scared. I foolishly stepped closer and dared to take a damp strand of her silky hair, letting it slip between my fingers.
She bit her lip, her eyes searching mine.
“Please don’t try to read me,” I begged her.
“Too late.” She swallowed hard.
“Demi, we’re playing a dangerous game here.”
“It isn’t a game at all.” Her sweet breath brushed across my cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I want my heart back. To love again, even if it’s just my family and friends.” Her voice cracked.
As if a magnetic force pulled us together, I leaned my forehead against hers, breathing her in. All while telling myself not to give in to my desire to consume her lips, to feel her skin against mine. The need to see if she could fill the void in me was overwhelming.
“Demi, you know the god in me has tried to see into your heart. I’m sure you can feel him doing it now. But he can’t seem to get in.”
“I know, but . . .” she hesitated.
“But what?” I had to know. I wanted—needed—her to give me an excuse to brush my lips against hers. To own them. To devour them and then her. To fall at her feet.
“But . . .” Her voice was barely a breath. “When we touch, my heart feels more alive than it has in years. And . . .”
My fingers drifted down her bare arm, her skin rising to meet mine like it had been waiting. My resolve crumbled.
“What, Demi?” I asked, voice raw.
“Nothing . . . I . . .” She seemed to be fighting herself. She was definitely holding something back. “I need to know.”
Before I could ask what she needed to know, her lips were on mine. And I discovered more than I’d ever dared hope for. I didn’t hesitate. I captured her velvet mouth, our lips tangling, syncing—like they’d been waiting lifetimes to find each other.
She didn’t pull away. So I slid my hand into her hair, undoing her messy bun with a reverent tug. Her fiery locks spilled around us, a curtain of heat and want and everything I wasn’t supposed to feel consumed me.
I deepened the kiss, aching to taste her, to explore every inch of her mouth, which tasted like the sweetest nectar the gods had ever created.
She gasped, twisting her hands in my shirt, pulling me closer like she needed me to anchor her.
My grip tightened in her hair, holding her steady, silently begging her not to let this moment end. I couldn’t get enough. If I could drown in her, it would be a happy death.
The god in me surged forward, probing as hard as he could, desperate to read her heart. To know what she felt. To know whether this was as real to her as it was to me. I needed to know her. Every part of her.
Minute after minute we stood there drinking each other in. I didn’t care if we got caught or that I was breaking the rules and maybe even my own heart. All I cared about was her. I wanted her to be happy, to love again.
Then it hit me—how selfish I was being. There was no reading her heart, as hard as I tried. It was locked tight. There would be no access for me.
With that unpleasant thought, I savored her for a second longer, trying to memorize this moment, her, before I pulled away. The breath in me was gone. She’d stolen it, and I was happy to let her keep it.
She blinked, wide-eyed, her breath ragged. Her gaze locked on mine, flickering with what I could only describe as heartache. She knew exactly how much I’d enjoyed myself—how much I wanted every part of her.
But she also seemed to understand the same thing I did: I couldn’t give her what she wanted.
The gods hadn’t thrown us together for more.
I was here to help her. Not to fall in love with her. Though every part of me wanted to.
“I’m sorry, Demi. I shouldn’t have done that.” I took a step back before I could take her right back in my arms. Before I sang her one of the ridiculous sonnets swirling in my head.
“You don’t need to apologize. I kissed you, and I’m sorry. But I had to know.”
“Know what?”
“The truth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
Something told me it mattered immensely, but I didn’t press, fearing a deeper connection between us. Even though it was all I wanted. Maybe I couldn’t unlock her heart, but in a cruel twist of fate, she had touched mine in a way no one ever had.
“Roman,” she said, voice trembling. “I’m sorry I’m wrecking your show.
But please don’t ask me to lead these men on.
Don’t ask me to lie. I feel like too much of my life has been that—a lie.
And soon, if nothing changes, I probably won’t know who I am or who I was ever supposed to be.
So please, for the next several weeks while I have to be on your ridiculous show and this pointless quest, let me try to be a good person.
Let me help these people. I just want to fix what I broke. ”
She took a deep, shaky breath.
“Maybe if I can do that, my great-grandfather will have some mercy on me and at least let me remember my name and my mother.”
Demi’s voice pitched unnaturally.
“Maybe”—her eyes glistened with moisture—“I’ll get to be a gymnastics teacher. And if I’m really lucky . . . I’ll forget to miss my heart.”
Her words were a sucker punch to the gut. I felt awful about the situation she was in. Now more than ever, I wanted to help her. And I would, but . . .
“Demi, I’ll do my best, but I have to answer to the studio. To my staff and crew, who depend on this show. Ratings matter.”
“People matter more,” she said with no malice, but it landed hard all the same. “I’m sorry, Roman. I don’t want to ruin your show, but maybe I’m not the only one who forgot about what love really is.”
She paused for a beat while I let that sink in. Was she right?
“And. Oh. Um.” She blushed. “I can tell you want to know what I thought about the kiss.”
I blinked.
She smirked.
“Even for someone with her heart locked, it was amazing. Definitely a top-three kiss.”
With that, she slammed her window shut. Once again, she’d dismissed me on her terms.
Meanwhile, I was left standing there with my mouth hanging open, far from finished with our conversation, thoroughly wrecked. And all I could think was how I wanted to kiss her again. And next time, I wanted to make it to her number one spot.
But I knew I would never get that chance.
Unfortunately, I needed to help her find the man who would.
I already hated him.