SIX #2
She wasn’t waiting for Rome.
She wasn’t.
But she was fidgeting in her chair, trying to focus on what Jolie was talking about—her sister, her brothers, the college classes she was taking. All important to Stina, but that didn’t stop her gaze from stealing to the kitchen entrance the minute she heard footsteps.
As Rome came into view with Archer right behind him, she jerked her stare away and fixed it on the empty coffee mug in front of her.
Jolie spotted Archer and jumped up, all soft smiles and twinkling eyes as she met him halfway across the kitchen.
Then there was Rome.
He brought cold air inside with him. His dark hair was windblown like he’d wrestled the mountains and won.
He avoided Stina’s gaze, just crossed to the coffeepot and poured a mug. While he was turned away, she took the moment to study the carved lines of his back beneath the black thermal shirt he wore, every move he made controlled.
He looked dark.
Mysterious.
Annoyed.
Which brought her own irritation floating to the surface.
He twisted from the coffeepot and his gaze landed on her. The scar carved through his cheek only made her fingers tingle to touch it.
Heart thudding, she tried to make sense of the emotions spilling into her system. She didn’t drop her gaze, and neither did he.
Rome looked at her like he was waiting for an explosion.
But just like the moment he was finished questioning her, a mask slid over his face, shutting her out. He muttered something to Archer and walked away.
Stina watched him go, her mind whirling over what his problem was and trying to follow the rules she set for herself with her ex-boyfriends—she would not try to fix a man.
Suddenly she realized Jolie was talking to her.
“I need to talk to him.” Before her friend could say more, Stina pushed away from the table and rushed after Rome.
She had to confront him about what happened in that room when she told her story. About how she’d reached for him, seeking a human touch to ground her. And how he’d allowed it—until he didn’t.
She ran into the hall and saw Rome at the end. He turned a corner and disappeared toward their rooms. By the time he reached his door, she caught up to him.
“Rome.”
Hand on the knob, he stopped. His wide shoulders seemed to stiffen, but he turned.
At the look he gave her, she sucked in a sharp breath, but couldn’t find enough air.
The expression in his eyes was too intense for a hallway conversation.
She lifted her chin. She hated how he made her feel seen and judged and exposed in a single look.
“What do you need?”
She bristled at his terse question. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.”
He opened his door, and before he could shut it in her face she followed him inside.
The scowl he sent her way was the best thing she’d gotten from him all day. At least she could work with a scowl.
It was the way he’d stroked his thumb over her knuckles in that room that messed with her head.
He faced her. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
She cocked her weight to one hip and gave him her best glare. The one that made men in clubs slink away without asking for her number a second time.
“You shouldn’t have left me sitting in that room by myself.”
Something in his eyes shifted—just barely, but enough to know she’d struck a nerve.
She wrapped her arms around herself, then, hating the protective gesture, dropped them to her sides and forced herself to stand still.
“You made me feel bad yesterday.”
His jaw flexed.
If she stopped now, she’d lose her nerve, so she barreled on. “I didn’t plan to touch you. I don’t do that. I don’t grab people because I’m upset and need comfort like some fragile little damsel in distress.”
“I didn’t think—”
“I’m not finished,” she cut across him.
His jaw clenched tighter, and damn, he looked even hotter and more dangerous.
“Then the second I got out everything I needed to say about the man with the scary voice and the pizza burn, you pulled away like I burned you.”
His stare darkened, confusing her more. His eyes held too many things at once.
Frustration. Heat. Restraint.
Other things she didn’t have a name for but felt low in her stomach.
She gulped. “Look, Rome. I know you’re not my friend. I know I’m only here because you had orders to bring me. I’m your assignment or your charge, or whatever word makes this less human for you. But I won’t let you make me feel guilty for needing to lean on someone for five minutes.”
His fists curled at his sides.
Her breath hitched as even more air got sucked out of the room and the walls closed in tighter. Maybe Rome was too big inside it, too dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with guns or military training.
“You done?” The roughness of his drawling voice skated over her skin.
“No.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
She opened it to start telling him where he could stick his rude questions. She had to get everything she wanted to say out before—
He took a step toward her.
“And another thing! You can’t just try to intimidate me because you’re so big and muscled and—”
Another step.
Before she realized she’d retreated, her back hit the closed door.
“You done now?” His voice pitched a beat lower, causing her insides to clutch in ways she’d never felt before.
“Not even remotely,” she bit off.
Anger sparked through the heat in his eyes.
“Yes, you fucking are.”
Shock wiped every syllable from her lips as he curled his hand around the side of her neck and crushed his mouth over hers.
The kiss hit like a door kicked open.
No warning, no soft test. No polite question whether he should take what he wanted from her.
Rome kissed her like every ounce of control he’d been dragging around since the moment they met finally snapped.
She gasped at the weight of him caging her against the door, hating the sound and loving it at the same time.
She pulled her flattened palms off the door and fisted his shirt, aware of how hot his skin was beneath, and how the solid muscle made her knees want to buckle.
He angled his head and plundered her mouth until her body turned into a puddle of molten lava.
All the confusion, hurt and anger from the day before morphed into one bright, terrifying point.
Want.
She wanted him.
The realization should send her running, but she only pulled him closer until his body trapped her more firmly to the door.
Rome made a low sound, stretching his fingers along her throat, the tips barely skimming her racing pulse as he took the kiss deeper. He caught her waist with his other hand, fingers splaying wide as if he needed to hold on to her as badly as she needed to hold on to him.
The thought stunned her almost as much as the commanding strokes of his tongue over hers.
Rome didn’t seem like a man who needed anything.
Especially not her.
He tore away first, only moving far enough away to drag in a rough breath. His forehead nearly touched hers, and he didn’t move his fingers from her throbbing pulse point.
She stared up at him, mouth tingling and her heart punching against her ribs.
For once…she had no idea what to say.
Rome looked like he had the same problem.
If they couldn’t talk, there was only one alternative.
She looped her hand around his neck and yanked his mouth to hers again.