CHAPTER 8 FAE
FAE
My body aches as I shift against the bedsheets, the heaviness of sleep is still clinging to me.
I must have been more exhausted than I thought, probably a mix of grief and whatever was in the poison.
Roman didn’t exactly help matters either.
The memory of last night settles low in my body as heat creeps up my neck before I can stop it.
God, I cannot believe we nearly had sex in the bathroom.
To make matters worse, he must have carried me in from the car and tucked me into bed last night.
Roman’s cologne clings to me, drowning everything else out, and the first thing I promise myself is that I’m getting in the shower the second I’m up and scrubbing him off my skin. I wonder if I scrub hard enough, whether it would erase him completely. It won’t. I already know that.
I’ve tried before. Not with Roman of course, but with every other grotesque man I’ve been forced to sleep with. The ones who smell decent are easier. I can close my eyes and pretend they’re not so bad, pretend I’m somewhere else, with someone who actually wants me for more than my body.
But it’s the ones who smell like onion and sweat that reeks of garlic that stay with me and linger. No amount of distance in my own head gets me through those jobs and no amount of scrubbing takes their hands off my skin.
With every kiss and every touch, I lose a little more of myself.
Finally I drag myself back to the present and try to shift, but something is weighing me down. An arm tightens around me from behind, pulling me closer against a solid body. My eyes snap open as my heart starts kicking hard.
I try to take in the room around me but it’s dark… almost deliberately so. If I squint I can see a shelf lined with ornaments in front of me and strange artwork hanging on the wall. How did I get here? And why are they holding me like I’m something worth keeping?
A shudder runs through me as I force myself to breathe.
Slowly and carefully, I move my hand to where they’ve pinned me against them, keeping every movement small and controlled.
Thankfully, I can feel clothes on my body.
At least they didn’t touch me while I was unconscious. That’s something, I guess.
I manage to create the smallest bit of space, but before I can move, the stranger drags me back against them, their grip tightening until it almost knocks the breath from my lungs.
“Hmm, I’m annoyed you haven’t figured out it’s me, Tink,” he mumbles and I freeze.
Fucking Roman.
“Roman…” I warn, not even sure what else to say.
“Tinkkkk…” he mimics, dragging it out and I grind my teeth. Whatever game he’s playing, I don’t want in. A headache is already starting to build and it’s putting me in a foul mood.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m cuddling you and you keep trying to get out,” he deadpans.
Just once I want him to read between the lines so I don’t have to ask everything so directly. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why he does it, forcing people to say things plainly instead of letting them hide behind anything softer.
“No fucking shit, Roman.” I try to move again, but his arm tightens around me, dragging me back into a bear hug. “I meant why am I in your bedroom?”
“Oh, well that’s simple. You cannot sleep in yours. I believe a bat attacked it.”
My body slumps as I realise how I left my room last night. If I’d been awake, I would have just crawled into Robyn’s like I always do after a kill. It hits me then, no wonder I stink of Roman when I am literally covered in him. Taking a deep breath, I try to re-centre myself.
“That was kind of you, Roman. Could you let me go now, please?”
“No.”
“Roman!” I snap, already thinking about everything I need to do today.
It’s always the same after a kill. Debriefs are the most annoying things to ever exist and on top of that it’s Tuesday so I should probably go back to classes if I don’t want to fail.
Roman’s grip loosens and just as I go to use the slack to break free, he moves faster than I can process. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, using his body to hold me down.
My breath turns heavy as he presses his thigh between my legs, forcing them apart as his stare locks onto mine.
The memory of yesterday hits me hard and my body reacts before I can stop it.
My pussy clenches around nothing but the memory of his mouth as his cock bumps against my clit and a soft moan slips out before I can catch it.
A cruel smile spreads across his face. His stupid dimples cut in as he leans forward, brushing his lips against mine.
The soft touch of his mouth is electric as his eyes gleam with joy and I have to close mine for a second to get my bearings.
A sharp click pulls my attention back and my head springs up to look at what he has just done.
“ROMAN!” I scream. “GET THESE OFF ME!”
I wiggle my restrained wrist in the handcuff, but he ignores me, skilfully catching my free one and locking it in place. I grit my teeth as he smiles.
“Roman,” I growl in warning again.
“No.” He pecks my nose, then crawls back down over my flailing body, pinning my hips with his hands.
His eyes eat up my body as I try to control my breathing, but to my surprise, I can feel myself getting more turned on.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting next from Roman in this position, maybe a mind-blowing orgasm, but instead he leans down, keeping me pinned as he lowers his head to my stomach with such unexpected care that I go completely still as I hold my breath.
His shoulders settle between my legs before he gently lifts the hem of my shirt and presses his face against my lower stomach, his unshaven beard brushing against my skin.
“That’s better,” he sighs, using his thumb to draw featherweight circles onto my stomach.
“Please,” I gasp, trying to move away from his touch.
“No,” he grumbles, squeezing my hips even more. “We are staying like this until it is time to go to debrief. Go back to sleep, Tinkerbell. I will be here when you wake up.”
“Wait, you’re serious?”
“As serious as a heart attack.”
A giggle slips from my lips at the irony of that, although I guess Charles’ family would agree. I wiggle, but it’s half-hearted. A sharp ache hits my chest at the thought of him doing this with his future wife. I don’t think anyone has ever held me so softly before.
“Stop wiggling so much. Your perfect warm cunt is too close to my mouth and I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
I sigh and melt into his hold. Is it bad, just this once? Maybe if I let myself have this, the memory will be enough when I’m alone again.
“Sleep,” he demands and I groan. Partly because I know I’m not winning against Roman when he’s like this, and partly because I’ve already given in to it.
Even if it’s just for the morning.
“Good girl,” he mumbles as my body relaxes beneath him.
My eyes grow heavy as I focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing against my skin, getting lost in the way he touches me like I’m something worth keeping. Before long, sleep takes me, and for the first time since Robyn left, it comes easily.
When I wake again, my wrists are free, but Roman is still curled into my stomach like he can’t bear to move too far away. I nudge him slightly, as he lets out the softest moan and he burrows his face in deeper.
“Time to get up,” I state, pushing his shoulder with more force.
“Mmm, five more minutes.”
“No, you’ve had more than enough. I need you to sneak me out of here.”
He whips his head up at that as a line forms between his brows.
“Now why would I do that?”
“Erm, because you live with my brother, who also happens to be your best friend?”
“And?”
“And…” I huff. “I don’t want to ruin your friendship over one night.”
Roman scoffs but gets up. He’s completely naked except for his boxers and I lick my lips as I take in his physique.
He’s so tall and muscular that it’s borderline unfair people like him exist. Counting quickly, I clock the eight pack, but it’s his back and his hands that do something to me.
His skull tattoo flexes as he pulls on a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I jump off his bed and stretch, taking in his room.
Every single item has its place, like each part of it has been deliberately thought through.
Looking down at my body, I realise he dressed me in an old, faded Marvin Gaye T-shirt.
Huh. I would not have put Marvin Gaye and Roman together at all.
I guess it just proves I don’t know him beyond the version he shows everyone else.
His thick arms come around my waist before I can react and suddenly I’m thrown over his bare shoulder. I squeal, smacking his arse as I try to wiggle free, but his grip only tightens. Roman barely reacts as he carries me to the door and pulls it open.
“Roman,” I hiss quietly. “Put me down.”
“No,” he grunts again. If I didn’t know he could say other words, I’d be convinced no was the only one he knew.
He makes his way down the hallway he shares with the other boys, taking each step carefully so he doesn’t jostle me too much.
As we round the corner towards the kitchen, I start to hear voices.
When he finally sets me down, I steady myself on my feet as he turns me and guides me inside with a hand on my lower back.
Even though I’ve stood in this kitchen more times than I can count, it feels different today, almost unfamiliar. It hits me that it’s not just Felix’s home. It’s Roman’s too.
A mug sits abandoned by the sink, a knife slightly out of place, small signs of lives overlapping.
Light spills across the pale wood floors and stretches over the long island with its large white sink.
Brass details cut through the space, the curved tap, the handles, the extractor, subtle reminders that this is very much their space, even against the softness of the white cabinetry.