3. Roman
3
ROMAN
I take my time pulling us through the throng of people, toward the staff hallway, where I know the steps to the roof are located. We pass two employees on the three-floor trek upstairs, both nodding at me as they let us by. When we finally reach the top, I swing the door open and guide Lily onto the roof with a hand on her lower back.
“Wow,” she breathes out, slowly walking toward the railing. “Roman, this is incredible.”
I’m not sure if it’s the sound of my name on her lips, or the beautiful sight of her wonder-struck gaze that makes my heart stutter. But it’s enough to make me freeze in place and simply watch as she takes in the view of the Philly skyline.
I’m startled out of my reverie when she spins around and asks, “So is this another perk of the job? Getting VIP access to the most beautiful spots in the city?”
I grin sheepishly and shrug. “The owner is a big UFC fan,” I say by way of explanation.
With a knowing smile, she turns back around and looks out at the skyline again. “What’s it like being a celebrity, really? So far, I’ve seen you get free drinks and exclusive entrance into a literal garden paradise.”
I walk over to stand beside her, leaning my forearms on the railing. “It’s nice, right?” But when she only waits expectantly, I sigh. “Okay, in all honesty…it’s pretty amazing. It’s everything you’re probably thinking it is. And more.”
She hums thoughtfully, and I can see her mulling over my answer. Trying to decide if I’m just being a hotshot. And I don’t say it out loud, but…I am telling the truth. The money, the connections, the respect—it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
Thankfully, she doesn’t press me on it. Something about my tense posture must clue her into the fact that, despite answering her honestly, I don’t exactly want to talk about what fame feels like. Instead, she turns to me and says simply, “Tell me something about yourself that most people wouldn’t know.”
I think for a moment, then answer, “I’m one fight away from becoming one of the greatest fighters in the entire history of the 205-pound division.”
She takes that in, but she quickly moves past it. “That…doesn’t tell me more about you.” Her tone is flat as those pretty eyes look into mine. “I could’ve guessed you were a great fighter just by our interaction tonight. Give me something deeper.”
I search for a different answer, I really do. But every fact I could give, every story I could tell…has to do with fighting. And all of them boil down to me being a great fighter.
“I think the fact that you can’t think of anything else to say is the most telling answer you could give.”
I frown at that, but before I can say anything else, she says, “Okay, how about this. You said you were sixteen when you started at the gym? Give me a memory from before that. What did you like?”
I say the first thing I can think of. “Girls.”
She blinks, then sighs. “Honestly, I set myself up with that one.”
Chuckling, I look out over the city. What was my life like before fighting?
“What is it?” Lily asks, sounding excited, seeing the answer on my face. She must also see my hesitance because she grins. “It’s the opposite of girls, isn’t it?”
I sigh. “Pretty much.” When her grin grows, I let out an even heavier sigh. “School. I was a huge nerd in high school. Nobody knew because I hid it.”
“That’s exactly the kind of fact I was hoping for,” Lily says with a content exhale. Then she becomes more serious. “Did you go to college before you went pro?”
“Only for a semester. Fighting professionally isn’t super conducive to making a person want to do homework.”
She nods, but before she can ask more about fighting, or my non-existent college career, or anything else that doesn’t have anything to do with her … I quickly say, “Okay, your turn. Tell me something about yourself.”
Turning innocent eyes toward me, she asks, “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Anything that gives me a better idea of who Liliana is.”
I watch her think for a moment. But for some reason, I’m not even a little bit surprised that it only takes her a second.
“When I was ten years old, I beat the crap out of a school bully for teasing a classmate who wore glasses.”
My lip twitches as I fight back my laugh. “Did you pick that particular fact for my benefit?”
She shines a grin at me. “I figured you’d appreciate it.”
Chuckling, I turn my body toward her, using the movement to shift that much closer. “I do.”
We’re once again close enough that I can see the blue of her eyes and the pink flush on her cheeks from the cool air.
I find myself saying gently, “It also tells me you’re a kind, protective person who cares more about others than herself.”
Part of me expects her to brush off the compliment. Instead, she holds my gaze and says, “You wouldn’t think that if you saw the black eye I gave that bully.”
I shake my head with a smile. “I would’ve loved to see baby Liliana square up with what I’m assuming was a bigger boy.” Then an idea strikes. “Show me.”
She blinks, caught off guard by my request. “What?”
I gesture at her hands. “Show me. Let me see how you’d fight me.”
It takes her another moment to rise to the odd challenge. Taking a step back, she moves into a near-perfect stance as she raises her hands into two tight fists.
“Not bad.” I cross my arms across my chest as I look her over, slowly circling her. “You have a brother, you said? Should I assume there was a lot of wrestling in your childhood? You look like you may have done this before.”
“That’s a safe assumption, especially because I have two brothers, and I’m the only girl. But in all honesty, I think I would be a naturally punchy person anyway.”
We’re both laughing as I stop beside her. And I playfully push against her shoulder to test her balance. When she doesn’t budge, my eyebrows rise.
“Maybe you are a punchy person,” I comment, continuing my walk around her, letting my gaze drop over ass and high-heeled legs.
“Well? What’s the verdict?” she asks as I stop in front of her again. She holds her pose as her eyes flash up to meet mine, a sexy smirk in place. “Any critiques, coach?”
I grin. Fuck, I like this girl.
“Only one.” Taking one of her hands in mine, I brush a thumb over her fist. “We don’t want you breaking any fingers, so I’d suggest curling your thumb around this way, instead of leaving it on the side.” I move her finger where it needs to be, then guide her by the wrist to punch the palm of my opposite hand. “See? Way safer.”
“Hmm, yeah, that makes way more sense,” she mumbles as she lightly punches my hand again.
My lip twitches with a smile at the sight. “You’re a natural.”
That brings her focus back to me, her eyes darting up to mine right before dropping to my hands.
“Can I see you do it?” she asks, holding up her own palm for a target. “I’d like to see what this best-in-the-world fighter looks like in action.”
Grinning, I step back into my stance and lift my hands into fists. “Yes, ma’am.” Gently, I snap out a left, then right punch at her palm.
Her eyes narrow for a split second, then she shrugs. “Pretty good, I guess.” But she quickly loses her playful teasing when she’s distracted by something. Reaching for one of my fists, she pulls my hand toward her and brushes her other fingers over my knuckles.
“They’re so rough,” she says in awe. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but…” Lips pursed, she glances up at me in question. “Why are your first two knuckles more calloused than the other fingers?”
I take a small step closer to her and curl my hand into a fist again. “Because when you punch, you want to punch with those two knuckles.” I demonstrate a barely-there punch against her palm. “See? I’m twisting and driving them in.”
“Wow,” she murmurs, her hands cupping mine.
Her touch is warm, comforting, as her thumbs brush over my knuckles. I’m lost to the sensation of her touching me . Lost to anything that isn’t her hand on me, holding me, feeling this connection between us. Because there is a connection.
My gaze drifts over her long eyelashes, her wind-chilled cheeks, her pink lips. And I wait for her to look up at me, for her to show me she feels it too.
After a moment, her face tilts up, and her eyes meet mine. I see exactly what I was hoping for.
Curling my hands around hers, I tug her closer to me, never taking my eyes off hers.
It isn’t until she glances down at my lips that I grip her hips and lean in.
Her lips are soft and warm, perfectly welcoming. It takes me a second to do more than just melt into the feel of them, my whole body relaxing into the kiss.
But then she lets out the sweetest little sigh, and the heat spikes to a thousand.
Pulling her body flush against me, one hand lifts to sink into her hair and tilt her face up. With the new angle, I can pry her lips open with mine and deepen the kiss.
Lily’s hands come up to fist in my shirt, her mouth moving eagerly against mine, matching my fervor.
And then she moans into my mouth. And I just about lose my mind.
“Fuck,” I gasp, wrapping my arm around her lower back as I spin us toward the wall. Pressing her up against it, I take her mouth in a frenzy, tilting her head farther so I can slide my tongue against hers.
That just earns me another, more desperate moan. Her hips start to rock against mine, and I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.
I move my hand from her waist, brushing it over her hip and down her thigh. Her dress is short enough that my fingertips reach skin, and I can’t help the groan that rumbles through my chest at how soft she feels. I don’t even question the urge; I simply hike her leg over my hip and grind into the warmth between her legs.
“Oh God,” she says breathily, her hands coming up to cling to my shoulders. When her head drops back against the wall, I take advantage of the new position and move my lips to her neck, reveling in the softness there, too.
“You taste fucking delicious,” I groan against her skin, kissing under her ear and down to her shoulder. I nip at the strap of her dress, tempted to slip it down and move even lower. But then she pulls me in for another, more eager, kiss, and I’m once again lost to her lips.
I can’t get enough of her. I want more. More of her taste, more of her skin beneath my fingers, more?—
The moment is shattered by the sound of a phone ringing.
Startled, I pull back. Is that my ringtone? There’s no way my manager already got me the title fight. That has to be ? —
“Sorry,” Lily gasps, her chest heaving. “It’s on Do Not Disturb, but…” With an apologetic look, she gently pushes me back with a hand on my chest so she can reach down into her purse and pull out her phone.
Wincing, she says, “It’s my friend downstairs.” She lifts the phone to her ear and answers the call.
My head is still spinning, my heart beating out of my chest. I can’t bring myself to put any real space between us, so I just lean both hands on the wall behind Lily, caging her in.
I can hear the tinny sound of her friend frantically saying something on the other end of the line, the concern that fills Lily’s eyes confirming my worst fears.
Fuck .
“Okay, I’m coming down.” Lily’s reluctance is obvious. When she hangs up the call and meets my gaze, there’s guilt there. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I have to go. One of my friends is really sick.”
When she begins to right herself, adjusting her clothes and straightening her hair, I begrudgingly take a step back to give her space. I have no idea what to say. I don’t want her to leave. Don’t want this moment to be over. “It was, umm, nice to meet you, though.” She gestures out over the deck. “Thanks for showing me up here.”
I’m still standing here like I’ve forgotten how to speak. It isn’t until she makes a hesitant move for the door that I finally get my head on straight. It hits me that I’ll probably never see her again after this.
“Wait,” I blurt out. “Give me your number. I’ll call you.”
For some reason, my question snaps her out of her awkward goodbye. With one hand already on the doorknob, she studies me for a moment. Her voice is soft, but even, when she says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
That has me frowning, hoping I read this situation correctly. That she was into this as much as I’ve been. “Why not?”
She smiles, though there’s a tinge of sadness in it. “Because if we’re both honest with ourselves, you aren’t even going to remember my name tomorrow.”
I can only blink, stunned. And unfortunately, my silence seems to confirm her suspicions.
She pulls the door open and says, “Bye, Roman.”
And then she’s gone.