Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Roman
I’m on cloud nine right now, no other way to put it.
The adrenaline is still buzzing through me from that performance. I could probably run a marathon right now, or maybe I should jump off a cliff and see if I can fly.
It was that kind of high. The kind you chase after every time you get on stage, and when it clicks, it’s better than anything else.
The crowd’s still cheering, and the lights from the stage are still lingering in my eyes as I step off the platform. I’m grinning idiotically, no shame about it.
This is the feeling I live for. The connection, the moment when everything works.
And then, just like that, I spot her.
Sloane.
She’s standing at the edge of the crowd, clapping just like everyone else, but there’s something in her face. She’s not just clapping, she’s feeling it.
I don’t miss the way she’s watching us. There’s this mix of awe and something else I can’t quite place, but it’s there. And I love it.
It reminds me of ten years ago, when she was as bright-eyed and excited as she is now.
I’m already heading in her direction before I even think about it. I’ve got that cocky grin plastered on my face, but I know I’m not fooling her. Not anymore.
Sloane’s been a little harder to crack than I expected, but that’s half the fun, right? She’s trying to keep me at arm’s length, and I’m trying my best to close that gap, inch by inch.
“That was something, wasn’t it?” I ask as I close the space between us.
I know she’s still buzzing from the show. I can practically feel it.
She looks at me as if she’s about to give me a hard time, but then her eyes soften just a little. “Yeah. I’ve seen you perform before, but that… that was different.”
“You liked it,” I tease, leaning in just enough to let the space between us get… interesting.
Her eyes flicker up to mine, and I catch that flash of irritation mixed with curiosity.
“You’re impossible,” she says, but there’s a hint of a smile on the edge of her lips. I swear, I could make her crack if I pushed just a little harder.
“Well, you’re smiling,” I say, as if it’s the only thing I need to prove my point. “That counts for something.”
Her cheeks flush, and she looks away for a second, probably trying to figure out if she’s going to fight me on this or give in. I could make this easy. But where’s the fun in that?
“You know, Sloane, you should’ve seen your face during that set. You were hooked. Every word, every note… you were all in.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but the words don’t come right away. Instead, she looks at me, weighing her options. And I can see it in her eyes. She wants to give me hell, but I think a part of her is enjoying this back and forth.
Before she can say anything, I take a step closer. She doesn’t move, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to close the distance between us more than I do right now.
I reach up to push a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers brushing the skin of her neck, and for a second, everything stops. The noise of the bar, the buzz of the crowd, it all fades away.
“Relax,” I say, my lips close to her ear. “I’m not gonna bite.”
She shudders, and I feel it. Just a slight tremor that’s enough to make me grin as if I’ve just won the damn lottery. I like this. I like this a lot.
She exhales a shaky little breath that hits me square in the chest. Her eyes dart up to mine, and yeah, there it is. That spark. The one she’s been pretending isn’t there for days now.
“You really think you’re smooth, don’t you?”
“I don’t think, sweetheart. I know.” The laugh slips out before she can stop it, quick and surprised, music to my damn ears. I tilt my head, grinning wider. “See? You like me.”
She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch. “That’s a strong word.”
“I’ll take mildly tolerating me with a side of attraction,” I say, leaning one elbow on the bar beside her. “That feels accurate.”
She shakes her head, pretending to look exasperated, but I catch the way her gaze lingers on my mouth for half a second too long. Gotcha.
“You’re incorrigible,” she says finally.
“And yet,” I murmur, leaning just enough that I can smell her. Warm vanilla and citrus, the kind of scent that makes a guy rethink every life choice leading up to this moment. “You’re still standing here.”
Her lips part, just slightly. “For now.”
I chuckle, low in my throat. “Careful, Katz. That sounds like a challenge.”
She takes a sip of her drink, buying time, but her eyes flick back up, mischief hiding behind them. “Maybe it is.”
That’s it. I’m done for.
The room’s too hot, too loud, too full of people I suddenly don’t care about. All I can focus on is her, the way she’s looking at me, deciding whether to kiss me or kill me.
I lean closer, just enough to brush her shoulder with mine. “You wanna get some air?”
She hesitates for a beat, eyes flicking toward the door. Then she nods. “Yeah. Air sounds good.”
I slip my hand into hers, loving the bolt of electricity that tears through me, and lead her through the doors.
Outside, the night hits us. Cool and sharp, smelling faintly of rain and pine. The world feels quieter out here, the noise from The Hollow fades to a hum behind us. She crosses her arms against the chill, and I shrug off my jacket before she can argue, draping it around her shoulders.
She gives me a look, half amusement, half something softer. “You’re very pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?”
“Comes with the territory,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Rock star charisma. Unavoidable side effect.”
She laughs again, that low, genuine sound that makes me want to keep saying stupid things to hear it.
“Admit it,” I say. “You’re having a good time.”
She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Mmm. You’re tolerable when you’re not talking about yourself.”
“Ouch.” I clutch my chest dramatically. “Wounded.”
She smirks, pulling my jacket tighter around her. “You’ll live.”
“Probably. But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not making any promises.”
She arches a brow. “Like what?”
“Like you’re one bad decision away from kissing me. Again.”
Her breath catches, just a flicker, but I see it. Feel it. And when I step closer, she doesn’t move away.
“Roman…” she says quietly, warning in her tone but not much conviction behind it.
“Yeah?”
She hesitates, eyes darting between my mouth and my eyes, and I swear the space between us shrinks on its own.
And then, finally, she closes it.
The kiss starts slow, testing, then deepens when I slide a hand to the back of her neck. She tastes of bourbon and trouble, and I know right then I’m absolutely, one hundred percent screwed.
When we pull apart, she’s a little breathless, cheeks flushed, lips pink.
I grin. “Told you I don’t bite.”
She smirks back. “You might want to start.”
Oh, she has no idea what she’s started.
The alley is damp, the rain having just stopped, but the air still carries a chill. It doesn’t matter. All I can focus on is Sloane.
My lips crash against hers once more, urgent and desperate. I can’t get close enough. I need her to breathe, to feel, to understand the fire she’s ignited in me.
Her mouth is soft, pliant under mine, but I kiss her harder and deeper. I need to lose myself in her, to shut out everything but the way she feels against me, the way her body reacts when I touch her. She’s mine in this moment.
And I’m not letting go.
I can’t keep my hands off her. They slide up her body, hungry for the heat of her skin, the softness of her curves. She slides off my jacket, but her shirt is in the way. I pull it over her head, tossing it carelessly behind us.
The air feels colder against her bare skin, but the heat between us is all that matters. She presses into me, her chest against mine, sending a jolt of fire through me.
Her fingers slide down my chest, tracing the lines of muscle beneath my shirt. I shudder at the feel of her hands, so delicate yet leaving a trail of heat behind. When her gaze meets mine, her eyes wide and dark, her lips parted slightly, I can’t help myself.
“Is this okay?” Her voice is breathless, and the way she looks at me—as if I’m the only thing in the world—drives me wild.
I nod, my neck cracking with the force of my response. “Never better.”
Her nails scrape lightly over the trail of hair below my navel. I can feel every movement, every subtle touch; she’s searing herself into me. When her fingers move lower, freeing me from my jeans and boxers, the cold air against my skin only makes it worse. Every inch of me is on fire.
I hiss through my teeth when she wraps her cool hand around me. The contrast is almost painful, the way she feels against me, her touch gentle but determined. My hips jerk instinctively, but I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor it.
“Fuck, Sloane…” I can’t help the groan that slips from my lips, my hands sliding into her hair, not pushing, just holding her as she drops to her knees.
She’s taking her time, teasing, and the slow, intense way she licks the tip of my cock, her tongue warm and wet, makes me lose my breath.
I fight the urge to move, to take control, but I can’t. Not with Sloane, it’s never been that way with us.
Her mouth is perfect. So hot. So wet. Every movement is slow, but powerful, as she takes me deeper, inch by aching inch. The way her tongue flicks and swirls around me is nothing short of maddening.
I feel the warmth of her mouth enveloping me, the pressure just right, and the sensation of her lips, soft yet firm, sending a jolt straight through my spine, making my knees feel weak and unsteady. I could crumble at any moment under the pleasure she’s giving me.
I don’t know if it’s the way she looks up at me through her lashes, or the way her breath comes in little puffs, each one hot against my skin, but I feel the pull deep in my chest. Something raw, that tells me this is more than just a moment.
This is her. This is us. And I can’t stop the groan that rises in my throat as her mouth works its magic.