9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Lance
He smirks as he swivels in his chair to face me, leaning back in a way that is far sexier than it should be.
No one has the right to look that fucking good, and it never fails to piss me off.
Except now… I’m not so sure I need to be envious.
Especially if he’s offering himself up to me on a silver platter.
This has to be too good to be true, right? This… this… crush or whatever that I’ve had on him for months, could I possibly wash it all away if I gave into him? Would I be able to survive if he still treats me like shit afterward? What about during?
Oh God.
I don’t know if I can do this.
“Or you’ll give in to me eventually.” He purrs suggestively.
“You’re a real dick, you know that?” I grumble as I prop myself against the arm of the couch, scrubbing my hands down my face.
He gives me a sultry smirk as he shrugs his shoulders. “I can be really fucking nice. If that’s the kind of thing you’re into. That’s totally up to you.”
I squint my eyes at him thoughtfully. Is he serious?
A sweet side of Roman? Now we’re talking.
I wonder what that would even look like.
Would he cook dinners and wine and dine me?
Would he cuddle up and watch movies with me?
Would he kiss my forehead before sending me off to work in the mornings?
Hell, would he let me sleep in his bed? This is fucking Roman we’re talking about.
He barely even lets anyone in his damn apartment.
“Has anyone else ever slept in your bed?”
His face scrunches up in disgust. “What? No. Absolutely not.”
“And would you let me?”
A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips again as he stares back at me. “Are you saying that you want to sleep in my bed, Lance?”
“Oh. I will have a lot of fucking demands if I am even going to entertain the idea of doing something like this. Like… a lot of them.”
He grabs a peppermint candy from the bowl on the corner of his desk and twists it open, paying little to no attention to me.
The wrapper crinkles in an almost unnerving way, as if it’s taunting me.
He cut his eyes over to me, only briefly, before returning his attention to the wrapper between his fingers.
“Let’s hear it then. Tell me how you’d like for this to go.”
“I still haven’t said that I was agreeing to do it.” I toss back with a little sass. If he thinks he’s got the upper hand here, he’s got this shit twisted.
He waves his hand around to placate me. “Okay, if you agree to this, what would make you satisfied with the arrangement?”
“First and foremost, absolutely no one would know about it… about us.”
“Fair,” he agrees with a nod. “That’s easy enough.”
“And I want you to be nice to me when we… you know.”
He smiles devilishly down at the wrapper before he turns toward me. “When what? When we fuck?“ He asks with a chuckle. “Are you asking me to treat you like a prince, or do you just not want me to degrade you?”
I pick up on the fact that it’s laced with a bit of sarcasm, but at the same time, it’s still a pretty legitimate question. There’s a solid difference between the two, but I’m curious if Roman can even keep up the act of actually being nice to me.
“A prince. All the time. I want to feel like I’m the only thing that matters to you when we’re together. If you’re mean to me, even once, I’m calling the whole thing off.”
He raises a brow, intrigued with my demand, but I don’t waver.
I honestly think that the only reason I’m even considering this idea right now is because I want to finally see what it’s like to be in Roman’s good graces.
I’m not sure that there’s a single person in this place that gets a nice side of Roman, least of all me.
Getting to see that side of him… it’s definitely intriguing.
“Those two demands are a tad contradictory, don’t you think? If I start being nice to you, then other people will notice. I’m not exactly known for being a kind person, Lance.” He says as he twists that fucking wrapper between his fingers.
“You only have to be nice to me when I’m here, in your apartment. When it’s only the two of us. You’ll act the same exact way you normally do in front of everyone else.”
“So… be a dick in public and be a doting fake-boyfriend in private? Got it.”
“Keyword: Fake.” I emphasize firmly.
“Mhmm…“ He hums as he crumbles the wrapper in his hand and tosses it into the trash can beside his desk. “You’re the one that asked for perfect boyfriend behavior. I’m just giving you what you want.”
“That’s the thing. I’m convinced that you can’t be sweet. I’m curious how long it’ll take you to fuck it all up. I give you a week. Max.”
“Haven’t you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat, Lance?
Don’t pretend like you know anything about the way I act with people that I truly care about.
You just lack the attention span to see anything beyond the surface level shit.
There are very few people that deserve to see that side of me, including you, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Newsflash: People fucking suck. ”
“See. That shit.” I say as I point to him. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re just a fucking dick. Even if I agree to this arrangement, it’s going to be over before it even begins. You. Can’t. Be. Nice. It’s literally impossible for you.”
He smirks again before he spins in his chair and quickly rolls himself across the floor to me.
He grabs me by the waist and pulls me off the arm of the couch.
I let out an embarrassing squeak as plop down into his lap.
He leans the chair, tilting us back slightly as his arms wrap around me and tug me closer to his chest. My heart is thundering in my chest, so loudly that I’m sure he can hear that shit.
My palms start to get sweaty, and I can’t stop myself from rubbing them against my jeans nervously.
Normally, I would be an anxious mess already.
When other people touch me, I lock up. My brain and body completely shut down.
When it’s Roman, his touch is an explosion of fireworks inside of me.
There are so many feelings and sensations taking over my body that it feels like I can’t tell left from right anymore.
For some stupid reason, my body craves his touch. Only his.
This… it’s everything I’ve been craving with him, but at what cost?
My sanity? And for how long? Is this something that I’ll look back on fondly or will it be something I regret for the rest of my life?
Will Roman take all the pieces of me and build an empire out of the rubble, or will he bulldoze everything that I’ve barely managed to haphazardly balance atop it?
“Tell me, baby. What do you want for dinner tonight?” He asks as he reaches forward to brush my hair out of my face.
I instinctually flinch away from him, which makes his brows pinch together in confusion.
It’s not that I think he was going to hurt me, the reaction is just imbedded so deep inside me that I can’t control it anymore.
In this moment, he looks so hurt by my reaction, that I wish I could.
I really do, because I want his touch so fucking bad.
When he finally manages to push the strand away from my eyes, his finger traces its way down my neck in a spine-tinglingly delicious way. Chills cover my flesh as he grabs my chin and turns my face toward him, demanding my attention.
“I can cook something, or I can go grab us some sushi. Whatever you’re in the mood for, love.”
As I stare into his eyes, his melodic voice carries through the very marrow of my bones.
The way he’s giving me his full attention is intoxicating.
I’ve never seen this side of Roman, and it’s nothing like the Roman I’m used to.
Even his facial expressions are soft and genuine.
This is the man I knew was hiding underneath all that other bullshit he always displays.
It’s exactly what I wanted from him, but is it actually him?
Maybe he was right, maybe I don’t know him enough to judge the man he is or that he could be if he actually liked me.
It wouldn’t matter if he was still acting like a dick or not though, because being this close to him would still fry my brain.
I’ve always felt like something, or maybe everything, about Roman is just… more.
He reaches up, causing me to flinch again before gently tracing the bow of my lips.
I glance down at his lips before snapping my eyes up to his.
The universe is tugging against me, begging me to lean in until our lips meet, but I refuse.
I’m not even sure where, if anywhere, this thing between us is going, and I’m not giving him the satisfaction of winning me over that easily.
I know what will happen if I kiss him and I can’t, absolutely cannot, let that happen.
The way his eyes start tracing along my lips with his finger snaps me out of my daydreaming, sending little emergency flares off in my brain.
I shove against his chest, forcing myself from his lap.
“Great. Yes. Okay. I get it,” I say as I straighten out my clothes and glare up at him sternly. “You can be nice. Absolutely no kissing though. I don’t kiss. So just… none of that.”
His brows furrow in confusion, but he grabs my hand to get my attention again. “I meant it. Stay for dinner. Whatever you want.”
“I said I get it, Roman. You don’t have to be nice to me right now.
It’s… it’s fucking weird, quite frankly.
” I demand as I shake my hand free from his.
It really is, it’s so fucking strange. I’m used to the back and forth, our constant push and pull with each other.
That’s what I know. That’s what I’m comfortable with.
I’m not saying that I don’t like this version of him, but it’s definitely not something that I’m accustomed to.