Chapter 31
VAL
What the fuck am I doing?
There’s a drink in my hand, but how it got there, I don't know. Also, this is the first time I’ve ever been in Roman’s stunning apartment—a two-level, glass and metal penthouse with ridiculous views of Central Park—but I'm barely seeing it.
Instead, I’m just watching Roman, my brows furrowed deeply as he sways on his feet near a huge wall of vinyl records, speakers, and sound system pieces, bending down to fiddle with something.
Sensual music instantly fills the penthouse. A drunken, feminine giggle rips my attention from Roman, my eyes sliding over to her.
Anna.
I ditched Ashley and Julian without hesitation. But it sure as fuck wasn’t because I wanted to have a goddamn three-way with Roman and this fucking leech of a girl. I glare at her as she raises her arms up, moving drunkenly to the music as she kicks off her heels.
Her dress is next as she reaches down to slowly—I’m sure she believes it’s tantalizingly—tug the dress up over her head before letting it drop to the floor.
“Oopsie!” she giggles obnoxiously.
Roman turns. But his glazed eyes don’t go to the girl swaying sensually in her bra and panties.
They go to me.
His throat bobs as he brings the beer in his hand up to his mouth and takes a deep swig, his eyes never leaving mine.
What the fuck are any of us doing here?
“You guys are way over-dressed,” Anna purrs flirtatiously as she saunters over to me. I tense when she runs her hands up my chest, hating the feel of her too-soft, too-feminine, too-clingy fingers as they stroke me through my shirt.
“Yeah,” Roman mumbles. “Too dressed.”
He yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Then he’s awkwardly kicking off his shoes and trying to remove his pants without falling over.
Anna giggles again as she turns to him, the sound like fucking nails on a chalkboard. “Now we’re talking, baby,” she grins.
He finally drops his pants, and instantly, his eyes snap to mine again.
What, I want to bark at him. What do you even want me here for.
“Are you…” He swallows again.
Fuck it.
I pull off my shirt and then slide my pants down. Anna coos and giggles and tries to act all "sexy" as she runs her hands over her torso, cupping her tits before unclasping the front of her bra to let them spill free. She giggles again as she turns and starts pawing at Roman’s bare chest.
I’m pretty sure threesomes aren’t supposed to have this much murder and violence hanging in the air, but here we are.
“Come on, boys,” she purrs, grinning as she grabs the waist of Roman’s boxers and tugs him over to me. Then she grabs mine, too, pulling us both after her as she walks toward the couches.
I’ve probably slept with as many women as I have men. I’m attracted to both, and objectively speaking, Anna is a gorgeous girl—personality aside.
And yet, I don’t give a fuck or even blink when she drops her panties and then sits on the couch, her legs slightly spread.
“Well?” she giggles, patting the couch invitingly. “Are we doing this?”
I don’t move. Roman shuffles over to her, avoiding my eyes as he sits.
Guess we are.
I’ve barely sat down on Anna’s other side when she turns, grabs Roman’s face, and presses her lips to his.
I won’t lie: the images that immediately flash through my head are of ripping her hands off and choking her with them, or squeezing her dainty fucking throat until blood seeps from her eyes.
The fuck…
But even though I’m well aware how psychotic my thoughts are, I can't stop them—not when she’s still fucking kissing him.
When she finally pulls away, grinning, Roman’s eyes immediately find mine. There’s fear in them—plus hesitation, and a dash of pleading.
Fuck you, my eyes say right back to him. And in a flash, I’m grabbing Anna’s hair in a fist and slamming her to my mouth. She moans as she kisses me, crawling into my lap as she does.
But my eyes are wide fucking open, looking right at that motherfucker sitting behind her. His eyes turn black, and there’s vicious tension in his jaw as his lips curl, baring his teeth.
YOU wanted this, you goddamn motherfucking coward, my gaze roars at him. This is YOUR fucking fault.
Anna is panting heavily, her face flushed as she pulls away. Her eyes fill with lust as she turns around and gets on her knees. She glances back at me, grinning coyly as she bends over, wiggling her ass.
“After that kiss, you get to go first,” she giggles.
Then she turns to Roman and reaches for the waist of his boxers. I watch with fury surging and roiling inside me as she tugs them down.
He’s not very hard, but that doesn’t stop her from reaching out and wrapping a hand around his cock.
That’s my breaking point.
I could tell myself this is no different than the hundreds of three-ways I’ve had before—just another night of carefree, purely physical fun.
But that would be a lie, and the second she fucking touches him like that, the lie collapses like crumbling sand.
Fuck this.
I’m done.
“Hey—what’s he doing?!”
I ignore her whiny voice as I stand from the couch and storm over to where I left my clothes. I yank on my pants and shoes, grab my shirt.
Then I’m gone.
It’s raining when I get outside, pulling my shirt on and shoving a cigarette into my mouth. Headlights and horns wash over me as pedestrians rush through the deluge to get somewhere dry.
The lighter sputters in the rain a few times before I duck into an alcove in the alley next to Roman’s building and finally get the cigarette lit.
My eyes are manic as I suck heavily on the smoke, filling my lungs with hatred and pain.
I’m fucking shaking when I exhale.
What the fuck am I feeling right now?
“Hey!!”
I turn to see Roman storming out the front door of his building, a confused, angry look on his face as he tugs a t-shirt down over his bare chest.
I ignore him, stepping from the alcove and leaning against the wall as I take another drag, rain falling over me and soaking my clothes.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Roman spits as he barrels down the alley before coming to a stop in front of me.
“Smoking.”
“I mean…why the fuck did you just leave—”
“Fuck you.”
My eyes slide to his, watching as they narrow on me. “What the fuck is your prob—”
“YOU ARE, motherfucker!!” I roar, scaring a pedestrian as he rushes past. I push off the wall, venom in my veins as I jam a finger against Roman's chest. “YOU are my fucking problem!” I snarl.
His eyes widen with fear and something I can’t identify as they dart over my face.
“I—”
“You’re with me, then you’re not!” I roar. “You’re hot, then cold. You’re confused, and confused, and fucking confused—”
“Val, I’m not gay—”
My cold laugh cuts like a blade through the air.
“You keep fucking saying that, like a goddamn broken record!! And holy Christ, am I sick of that song!!” I scream, jabbing him in the chest again.
He shivers, his throat working overtime, his eyes wide and terrified.
“I—I can’t—” he finally stammers, mumbling, his mouth opening and closing without any words coming out as the rain sheets over us. “Val…”
“I told you,” I hiss, my eyes slicing into him. “Roman, I don’t give a fuck if you’re gay, bi, queer, straight, whatever! I don’t fucking care!!”
“Then what the fuck do you care ab—”
“I care if you’re MINE!!” I yell in his face, grabbing him by the neck of his t-shirt. “That's all!”
If this were the movies, and we were Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant, all our bullshit and baggage would crash to the ground right now, and we’d collapse into each other’s arms.
But this isn’t a movie.
Roman goes silent, his eyes still wide, his jaw trembling. Cars splash by in the puddled streets, people rush home past the mouth of the alley, umbrellas and newspapers held over their heads.
But here, in this frozen moment between us, nothing happens at all.
I choke out a bitter, quiet laugh as I take one last drag on my cigarette and toss it away.
“I think that silence is all we need to hear,” I murmur, shaking my head. “This was doomed from the start, wasn’t it.”
“Val…”
God, do I love the way my name falls from his lips like a broken prayer. But it’s not enough, and we’re both too late.
“Have a good life, Roman,” I growl, turning to walk out of the alley.
A hand suddenly grabs my arm. I pause, half-turning and letting my gaze sweep over him.
Fuck.
Roman’s shaking all over, his face haggard and his eyes wide, like he’s literally on the brink of tears or a complete meltdown. I let myself turn fully, facing him as he stands there soaked and trembling.
Still silent.
My head slowly shakes side to side. “I can’t keep guessing,” I murmur, my gaze piercing into his.
His eyes close tightly. “Guessing what,” he chokes.
He gasps quietly when I grab his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “You fucking know what,” I growl. “I can’t read your fucking mind. I need you to tell me.”
His lower lip trembles as his eyes plead with me, so wide, so fearful, so fucking scared of taking that last step.
“I—I don’t know what you’re asking—”
“Yes, you do,” I say quietly, stepping even closer, until my wet chest is pressed to his soaked shirt. “Roman…”
He takes a shaky breath, his eyes darting over my face.
“Do you want me to stay?” I growl.
“I—” He shudders. “I don’t want you to leave…”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He whimpers when I cup his jaw tighter, my eyes blazing into his as my thumb traces his bottom lip.
His throat works.
He trembles against me.
…He says nothing.
My heart sinks as the cold smile slices across my face.
Like I said: this isn’t the fucking movies.
“If you can’t answer that,” I mutter quietly, shaking my head. “Fuck.”
My hand drops from his face, and I turn to go.
…Until suddenly he grabs me, and I blink in shock as he spins me around, pins me to the wall with both hands cupping my face, and looks right into my eyes.
“No, I can fucking answer that,” he chokes, his lower lip trembling. “Don’t ever leave.”
And then he kisses me.
He. Kisses. Me.
The world stops spinning.
My heart stops beating.
And all I know and all I can do is kiss him back as we collapse into each other as the rain pours down.
Fucking beat that, Hugh and Julia.