31. Wanna Be Yours
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
wanna be yours
IMOGEN
CASCADE FOOTHILLS
“Taste this.”
Roman is holding out a spoon with a little bit of homemade spaghetti sauce. It smells divine, made up of fresh garlic, onions, and assorted herbs that he picked from the garden out back. This place has horses, fresh air, and a fucking garden . It’s paradise, and it’s a shame we have to go home on Sunday. It really has been wonderfully peaceful here.
I lean over and try it, instantly blown away by the tang of the tomatoes, the perfect amount of salt, and a little bit of cayenne for heat. This man fucks like a God and cooks like a Michelin star chef. I don’t think there’s anything he can’t do at this point.
“Holy shit. That’s?—”
Mitzy whines at our feet and Roman chuckles, shaking his head.
“Nope. Not for dogs.”
“Maybe she could get a treat instead.”
“She’s had enough treats, Imogen,” he laughs.
“Aww, you’re so mean!” I crouch down and kiss her adorable little face as she wags her tail. “How can you deny her?”
“Well, someone gave her half a croissant this morning.”
I sigh, staring into her soulful eyes.
“I would give her all the money in my bank account if she asked for it. Isn’t that right, Mitz?”
“I’m sure she’d just eat it,” Roman snorts.
I give Mitzy a couple of slices of cucumber to tide her over before returning to prep for the salad. Roman is dealing with the gnocchi, hand rolling it himself; his shirt sleeves are pulled back past his elbows, and I watch the muscles in his forearm flex from the corner of my eye as he works. The fine dusting of flour on the cutting board reminds me of our night in the pantry, my cheeks burning as I try to focus on chopping.
“Have you started your application for the conference?” I ask him.
“I’m about halfway through, what about you?”
“I’m… making headway.”
“Well, you wanna hang out on the couch and watch Chopped while we finish them up after dinner?”
I beam and raise my eyebrows.
“You watch Chopped?”
“It’s my favorite show,” he replies, filling up a pot with water to boil.
“Oh, me too! Piper and I used to watch it while we graded papers. I always secretly wanted to be on it, but I kind of suck at cooking.”
He takes a look at the veggies I’ve sliced up and gives me an approving nod.
“I think you’re doing just fine, darlin’.”
I always appreciate academic validation, but Roman’s is even better. Plus, sometimes it comes with sex as a bonus.
“Okay, so what’s your pitch for the conference?”
My anxiety around submitting this thing is massive. Frankie’s already given me pretty good feedback on some things that need improvement, but my fear is paralyzing. What if I get rejected? What if I submit the wrong file? Once, I was applying for an office job and submitted an itinerary for a trip Piper and I were going on that included the words bring dildos .
Logan said that wasn’t grounds for joining the witness protection program. He also told me never to say the word dildo in front of him ever again.
“It’s a lot more personal than I originally intended, but it’s something I’ve been noodling with for a long time.” Roman pauses to clear his throat, and I get a whiff of fresh garlic and cayenne as he flips the chicken over in the pan. “It’s about people’s perceptions around bereavement and suicide. You know, how everyone treats you like you’re glass that’s about to shatter? I was supposed to work on it with your brother, but I got his blessing to finish it on my own.”
“I just assumed he’d be partnering up with Abi for something, but I guess not.”
“Yeah, well…” Roman frowns, scrunching up his face for a moment. “Never mind, it’s nothing.”
“Do you know something I don’t know?”
“Nope.”
He clearly wants to change the subject, but if anyone’s going to have secret details on their potential relationship, it’s got to be Roman. Besides, I’ve gotten pretty good at getting this man to open up.
“Oh, come on,” I laugh. “You’re his best friend! You guys talk about stuff! They’re totally boning, aren’t they?”
Okay, maybe I could’ve been a bit more subtle.
“It’s against university policy to fraternize with colleagues in your own department,” he murmurs. “And trust me, I’ve tried poking that bear. If there is anything going on, Logan’s not about to spill the beans.”
Damn. Maybe he doesn’t know anything.
“Okay, so nothing concrete, but do you have any theories?”
“Well, I’m not about to get him in trouble,” he chuckles. “And this is all just my assumptions, alright?”
“Of course, it’s just a theory.”
He nods.
“Your brother was definitely chasing Abi a couple years ago, and while I don’t know if that ever really died down, they were awfully close at her birthday party back in August. Until someone sees evidence of any kind of fraternization, it’s just speculation, but I told him to be careful just the same.”
“So, if they were sleeping together, hypothetically, what happens?”
Roman blows out a breath.
“They would be subject to a disciplinary hearing, and one of them would have to transfer to another department, or leave the university in the worst case.”
We stare at each other for a moment before Roman turns away, fiddling nervously with the burner.
“I guess this is the part where we talk about what we do if we get caught,” I murmur.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.”
I try to play it cool as I dump the chopped-up veggies into the salad bowl and give it a mix.
“Imogen, look at me.”
His voice is gentle, but there’s an urgent undercurrent to it that makes my skin prickle.
“I adore you. You’re fiercely intelligent, you make me laugh, you taught me some of the raunchiest shit in bed— sorry, I don’t know if that’s a?—”
“It’s a compliment,” I laugh. “It’s a good compliment.”
He smiles.
“I feel so good around you.”
All I have to do is say that I don’t want to be just friends who fuck. I want to blurt it out: that I want something more, something I haven’t had in years, something I’ve been too afraid to admit.
That I’m falling in love with him.
My head is a mess, swirling around that phrase over and over and playing out all the ways he could react to it. Most of them are bad.
He brushes his thumb across my cheek with a tilt of his head.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because I adore you too,” I laugh. “And I don’t know what to do about that.”
“If we get caught, nothing’s changing between us.”
I’m not so sure it’s true, but I’m willing to believe the lie if only for my own sanity. Roman Burke breaking my heart might just make me swear off men forever.
I’ll become a Nun.
“I’ve also been thinking that… I want to be more than just friends with benefits. I want you. Completely.”
He’s saying everything I was thinking on Piper’s patio the other night, putting everything on the line in a way that I’ve been too afraid to. I don’t want to stop seeing him, I don’t want anyone else. There hasn’t even been a serious thought of anyone else since we met.
I swallow hard, about to hurl myself into the abyss.
I hope it’s worth it.
“I think I’ve wanted more since we first met, back when you were still Henry.”
“It’s my middle name,” he laughs.
“Damn, I guess I fucked up. My middle name’s Gwendolyn. I just pulled Jade out of my ass.”
He snorts, leaning down to kiss me.
“God, I think you’re the most gorgeous fuckin’ thing I’ve seen in years.”
I wrap my arms around his neck as he kisses me again and again, pushing me into the counter. Both of us are out of breath by the time he tears his mouth away, and I grip the collar of his shirt.
“Fuck me.”
“After dinner.” He grins. “You can hold out for a little longer, can’t you?”
“You know, being all hot and emotional and then withholding your penis is a federal offense.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yup. Washington Criminal Code. Look it up.”
“Let me guess. Section 69?”
I snort, giving him a gentle shove.
“You’re such a tease.”
He closes the gap between us, kissing the tip of my nose.
“I’ll let you cuff me later, darlin’.”
Roman gently pats my ass before motioning to the two untouched bell peppers sitting next to my knife. I love how easily we fall into this playfulness.
“C’mon. Finish chopping those, and I’ll teach you how to plate all of this.”
I turn and pick the knife back up again, grabbing a bell pepper for the salad. Before I can move to slice it in half, Roman presses his body against mine, wrapping his fingers around my wrist.
“Here, I’ll show you an easier way.”
I don’t know the first thing about how to cut veggies, I just sort of do it, so I’m happy to get a cooking lesson from Roman, at least so long as he keeps standing this close to me.
“Yes, Chef.”
He lets out the tiniest grunt that he probably thinks I can’t hear as he presses his body into mine, practically caging me in.
“Don’t start calling me that.”
“Why? It clearly turns you on.”
He dips his head, playfully flicking my ear with the tip of his tongue.
“Just be a good girl and do as you’re told.”
Roman kisses my temple and straightens, grabbing the pepper and placing it on the cutting board.
“Okay, are you ready for your first lesson? Pepper slicing 101.”
“Ready!” I chirp. It could be about anything and I’d be just as excited.
“You wanna cut the top and bottom off…”
He guides my hand, sparks shooting up my arm as we delicately slice off the bottom of the pepper first.
“Just like that, make sure not to take off too much.”
I didn’t realize that chopping vegetables could make you this sweaty, but then again, most people aren’t being pressed into the counter while they’re trying to work.
Roman holds on to my wrist, his other hand on my waist, gently gliding up and down. It’s like he’s purposely trying to distract me, but I manage to keep my focus and slice the other half of the pepper.
“Perfect.” His voice is low and gravelly, causing goosebumps to form on my arms.
He helps me push the remnants aside with the blade of the knife.
“If you’re going to be this sexy, I don’t know how successful I’m going to be at cutting the rest of this thing.”
I wish he’d just bend me over this counter and take what he clearly wants, but it looks like he wants to drag this out a little longer.
“I promise not to steer you wrong, darlin’. Now you wanna stand it up and cut down the side of the pepper so you can open it.”
I do as I’m told, making a long vertical slice, and Roman nods in approval.
“See, this makes it easier to cut off the white parts and the center. Then, you slice it into long, thin pieces.”
I roll it out, cutting away all the stuff we don’t need as I sink into the smell of Roman’s cologne, wrapped up in the warmth of his body. It’s so rare that I get to spend this kind of time with another person or allow this much intimacy into my life.
I finish slicing up the pepper, tossing it into the salad bowl while Roman moves on to teaching me how to make a homemade vinaigrette.
“It’s just olive oil, balsamic, a little bit of honey, salt, and pepper.”
He doesn’t even measure, he just goes for it. I smile, watching him whisk it up before grabbing a little tasting spoon and offering some to me. It’s perfect, sweet and tangy with just the right amount of pepper.
Once the salad is mixed, he moves on to the steps of how to plate everything, up to and including grabbing a clean cloth to wipe away any sauce that gets on the edge of the dish. It’s so beautiful I almost don’t want to eat it, but he insists.
“I want to see if it tastes as good as it looks.”
He uncorks the wine that’s already sitting at the table, pouring us each a generous glass as we settle into our seats. The sun is setting, and we have a beautiful view of the ranch from our place by the window. Outside, I spot Polly grazing in the field.
“Oh, look! That’s my girl!”
Roman chuckles.
“You wanna take her and Cash for another ride tomorrow morning before we head out?”
“Sounds great. At least if we can get those applications sent off tonight.”
I cut into my chicken and take a bite, groaning at the perfect juicy flavor.
“My compliments to the hottest chef in the world.”
Roman shakes his head, looking surprisingly bashful.
“Hey, you did a lot of the work too, you should be congratulating yourself.”
“Mmm… I think you can congratulate me later when you eat me out on the patio.”
He chokes on his wine, his eyes wide as he sets the glass down, all while I calmly nibble at my pasta.
“That’s payback for your sexy cooking lesson.”
He snorts, taking another sip to recover as we dig in. It’s quiet as we eat, and I keep finding my gaze wandering back to him. His brows are knit together and he’s chewing his meal like he’s grading his own cooking, looking for flaws. If there are any, I can’t taste them.
Other than the waffles we had back at his apartment, this is the first meal we’ve had as a couple.
At least I think we’re a couple.
“So, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
I pause, taking another sip of wine for courage.
“When you said you wanted to be more than friends with benefits, does that mean…”
Roman stares at me, leaning back in his chair. He looks truly and entirely confident, maybe for the first time since I’ve known him, like he’s made a decision after a hell of a lot of internal debate.
“It means I’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”
“You want me to be your girlfriend?”
“God, it sounds so high school when you say it back like that, but…” He laughs, shaking his head. “Do you want that? To be together, for real?”
We’re risking everything, hoping that we’ll make it through to the other side unscathed. I know the other shoe could drop at any minute, and when it does, it’s going to hurt.
Bad.
It might just ruin everything the two of us have going right now, but…
“Yes.”
The word feels so right leaving my tongue, like it’s the only thing I was made to say. Roman beams, raising his glass, the two of us clinking them together in a little toast just to us.
“I adore you, darlin’.”
I can’t believe this is what I was so afraid of, what I avoided for so long. But with him, it just feels right.
“I adore you, too, cowboy.”