Prologue #2
Creed finally uncrosses his arms. “You good to hang for a bit, and have a drink? We’ve got some downtime before the next show.”
I glance at the door, half expecting Elliot to still be standing there, glaring at me, but he’s already gone—a little sense of freedom settles over me.
I never expected to be in this position. Not in a million years. Wild Reverie. Just… here.
There’s no way I can refuse.
I look back at Delaney, then at the band. “Yeah. Sure. A drink sounds nice.”
Roman raises an eyebrow. “You drink whiskey, right? It’s the only thing we have on hand.”
I grin, the excitement from earlier starting to sink into something more comfortable.
“Whiskey’s perfect,” I say. “Just don’t try to kill me with it.”
A few drinks in, the room’s energy has shifted.
I can’t stop focusing on Roman, who’s been nursing his whiskey, his eyes glinting with mischief as he locks eyes with me.
The playful banter between us has gotten flirtier, the lines blurring between teasing and something a little more… electric.
It honestly feels like everyone else in the backstage area has disappeared.
Roman leans back against the chair, taking a slow sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving mine.
“So, Sloane,” he says, low and languid, his words dripping with honey, “I have to know… is this serious journalist thing your whole personality, or do you have a side that’s more fun? You know, the side that doesn’t take itself so seriously?”
I raise an eyebrow, not quite able to keep the smile off my face. “I take my job seriously, Roman. You’d be surprised at how much work it is to look as effortlessly cool as you do.”
His grin widens, and he stands up, sauntering toward me like he’s got all the time in the world. The air between us feels electric now, charged with something more than just casual conversation.
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him, his spicy scent making me forget to breathe for a second.
Roman’s voice drops even lower, smooth as silk, when he speaks again.
“Effortlessly cool, huh?” He takes a step closer, and I swear the distance between us shrinks with every word. “I like the sound of that. Maybe I should teach you how to be a little less… serious. A little more relaxed. You think you could handle that?”
I feel my heartbeat pick up pace, and I don’t know if it’s the whiskey or the way his words are stirring something inside me, but I’m not about to back down from this flirtation.
“Maybe I could,” I reply. “But only if you think you’re up for the challenge.”
Roman laughs, a rich, full sound that seems to reverberate in the air around us. His gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes, a mischievous glint dancing behind the layers of charm. “Oh, I love a challenge.”
He closes the last bit of space between us, leaning in slightly, the heat from his body almost suffocating now. His hand brushes against my arm, the touch deliberate, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I think I’ve got just the thing to loosen you up,” he murmurs, his lips almost brushing my ear. “But I have to warn you, Sloane… I don’t play fair.”
I bite my lower lip, feeling his words settle into the pit of my stomach. His flirtation is intense, and every word draws me deeper into his orbit.
He pulls back just a little, enough to look into my eyes with that cocky grin of his. “Tell me, Sloane… what’s the one thing you can’t resist?”
I swallow, knowing I’m teetering on the edge now.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “Maybe finding out if you’re as good as you say you are.”
Roman’s grin widens, and he leans in just a little bit closer. I can feel his breath on my skin, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of how this flirty banter is morphing into something dangerous.
“Careful,” he murmurs, “I might just show you more than you bargained for.”
My heart skips a beat. The room suddenly feels like it’s spinning, and I wonder just how much of myself I’m willing to give to this moment, to him.
He watches me, his lips parting slightly as if he’s trying to read my thoughts. The tension between us thickens, and for the first time, I don’t have a witty retort. I’m not playing games anymore. Not with him.
Instead, I say, “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”
Roman’s breath hitches just slightly, and for a moment, I swear he hesitates. Just a brief second of uncertainty before the devil-may-care smile returns.
Without another word, his hand slides around my waist, pulling me against him with a possessive yet gentle grip.
His touch is warm, confident, and I feel it all the way down to my toes.
I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, his lips are on mine. Slow, intense, and impossibly soft at first, testing the air between us.
The kiss deepens almost immediately, his mouth claiming mine with a quiet urgency that sends a rush of heat through my veins.
His hand slides lower, fingers splaying across the small of my back. The pressure of his body against mine is intoxicating, his heartbeat matching my own as it quickens.
I don’t pull away.
I let myself sink into the kiss, my hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard, steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric.
The room fades into nothingness. There’s no noise, no other people, just the heat of his lips on mine and the wild, electric chemistry crackling between us.
Roman’s mouth moves against mine with a hungry confidence, his tongue brushing lightly over my bottom lip, coaxing me open.
I respond without hesitation, kissing him back with the same intensity, the same desperate need.
He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me, urging me to press even closer, to give myself over to this moment.
Everything about him is raw and unrestrained, and it pulls me deeper into the kiss, deeper into the madness of it all.
The rhythm of the night fades completely as I lose myself in him. His touch, the taste of his mouth, the intoxicating mix of whiskey and something darker, wild.
We’re both breathing harder now, the kiss turning feverish, demanding. I feel his hands shift, moving from my back to my hair, tangling in it as he tilts my head back, deepening the kiss even further.
His lips are everywhere, on my mouth, my jaw, the delicate curve of my neck, and I can’t help but shudder at the feel of him, so close, so consuming.
Roman pulls away just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze dark. His lips are slightly swollen from the kiss, his breathing just as erratic as mine. His thumb brushes lightly over the back of my hand, sending a shiver up my spine.
“Come with me,” he murmurs, the words dripping with an invitation I can’t refuse.
Without waiting for an answer, he takes my hand, his grip firm but gentle as he leads me through the wildness of the backstage area.
The buzz of voices and music is still palpable, but it feels miles away, as if the only thing that matters is the powerful pull of his hand in mine.
We reach a door at the far end of the corridor, marked by a simple, unassuming sign. Wild Reverie Dressing Room. Roman pauses for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at me with that same half-smile that makes my heart race.
“Hope you’re not regretting this,” he says, teasing, but there’s an edge to it now, he’s trying to control the anticipation building between us.
I can’t help the smirk that curls at the corner of my lips. “Not even a little.”
He opens the door, pulling me into the small, dimly lit room. It’s nothing like I expected. No excess, no glamour. It’s quiet, intimate—just the two of us. The faint smell of whiskey lingers in the air, along with the scent of Roman’s cologne, sharp and intoxicating.
The door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly, the world outside doesn’t exist.
Roman doesn’t waste a second; he steps closer to me, pushing me back gently against the door. His hand slides up my arm, his fingers trailing over the soft fabric of my dress, until they find the nape of my neck, drawing me in again.
His lips are on mine before I can even think, deepening the kiss with a hunger that sends a wave of heat straight to my core. His body presses against mine, and I feel the weight of him in all the right places, the promise of something wild hanging in the air.
“I want you,” he whispers against my lips, the words making my pulse spike. “Right here. Right now.”
I could say no, pull away, but I don’t.
Roman’s breath hitches as I push him back, gently but with enough force to make him stumble slightly. His gaze darkens, a mix of surprise and desire flickering in his eyes.
For a moment, I’m sure he’s going to pull me back into his arms, but instead, I meet his eyes with a challenge, one that sends a flicker of something dangerous through me.
“Stay,” I murmur, low and commanding, a side of me I rarely let out slipping through. He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the shift in power, but he doesn’t move.
A wicked grin pulls at my lips as I take control of this moment, of us. The heat between us is tangible, but now, it’s on my terms.
His eyes follow me as I walk around him, my hands brushing lightly against his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt. I stop behind him and let my fingers trail down his back, the tips of my nails scraping against his skin just enough to send a shiver through him.
Roman swallows hard, the tension in his body palpable, but he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His silence is an invitation.
I step in front of him again and lean in, lips brushing his ear, my breath hot against his skin.
“I’m in charge now.”
The way his muscles tighten under my touch tells me everything I need to know. He’s liking this. He wants it.
Without waiting for a response, I slide my hands down his chest and toward his jeans, unbuttoning them quickly. Roman’s breath comes faster, his hands hovering at his sides, as if unsure if he should retake control or let me guide him.
I step back slightly, tilting my head with a smirk.