Chapter Two
Rome
Four months after the wedding
A fter a day filled with never-ending meetings and problem after problem, the last thing I want to do is socialize with people I don’t like.
I’m standing in Janelle’s living room, waiting for her to finish getting ready so we can head out. She’s excited for tonight, so for her, I’ll keep my complaining to a minimum.
I hear her heels clicking down the hallway before I see her, and when she steps into my line of sight, I’m blown away.
The royal blue satin dress she’s wearing fits her like a glove, but the high slit in it shows off her thigh adorned with one of my favorite thigh chains of hers.
Her hair is in some intricate updo, and her long legs look even longer with her sky-high heels on. God, she’s gorgeous.
“You ready?” she asks, adjusting her silver armband.
Honestly, the only thing I’m ready for is wrapping her legs around me and carrying us to the nearest surface, but I grab her hand and lead her to the car instead. There will be time for that later, I hope.
Once on the road, Janelle asks, “Okay, so remind me why you don’t like these people again?”
“They’re dickheads. When the guys and I started The BC, we knew we’d have to go to events like this where the people are more concerned with their image than the city they claim to love. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.”
Baltimore Gives Back is an annual event celebrating the city’s many nonprofits and foundations and their accomplishments. It’s a chance to see how far we’ve come and to make or maintain connections with those who can push us closer to our goals.
The organizations do great work, and I like quite a few of the people in attendance. The people who are clearly in this for the wrong reasons—there to look benevolent and soak up the glory when they couldn’t care less about this city or its people—sour these events for me.
She takes my hand and intertwines our fingers. “I get that. I’ve been to plenty of events full of arrogant doctors who only care about the prestige of having that title.”
“Right.”
“And none of the other guys are coming tonight?”
“Nah. We take turns going to these things so we don’t all suffer. Arnold eats these things up, so we should always send him.”
She doesn’t say anything to my Arnold comment.
He and Amerie have been a sore spot we’ve been trying to navigate in our relationship.
She’s hoping the therapy sessions she’s going to with Amerie will bring them back together, so she wants everything to be okay between Arnold and me.
I want to give Janelle everything she wants in life, but I can’t give her that.
I will always love Arnold like a brother.
We’ve been through a lot together, and it’s hard for me to imagine my life without him.
I didn’t realize until after the wedding, though, that I’ve been in denial about how much Arnold has changed over the years.
How much I’ve changed. How we’ve grown into two people with very different ideals.
Sometimes, I think back to the night he tried to kiss Janelle, and I want to break his jaw.
He scared her. He made her uncomfortable.
I’m not okay with it. Janelle wants a sense of normalcy returned to the group, so I go along with it.
We still hang out, and I still see him as family, but we have to acknowledge that things aren’t the same between us and might never be.
When we pull up to the Four Seasons, I pass the valet my keys and escort Janelle inside. The lobby is a blur of people rushing in all different directions. A well-dressed crowd is waiting for the elevator up ahead, so Janelle and I go around the corner to a different one.
“Your face is doing that thing.” Janelle nudges me.
“What thing?”
“The thing that tells everybody in the room you don’t wanna be there.” I’ve mastered the art of keeping my face neutral in situations like these, but Janelle always catches me slipping. I laugh as I press my hand to the small of her back.
“You got me. Let me get my shit straight.”
She looks around the elevator bank before saying, “I think I know how to help.” I don’t even respond, but my brow rises curiously. “You remember when we read Restore Me by J.L. Seegars?”
“That’s the one where the woman ends up with her dead husband’s best friend, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yeah, we liked that one. Why?”
“Remember the elevator scene?” Ever since Tulum, Janelle and I have started our own book club.
Mmmm, book club is a strong word. We’re the only two members, but we read and discuss the romance books she picks, which counts.
Our meetings usually end with us acting out the sex scenes, and the elevator scene from Restore Me stands out in my mind.
Finally having the chance to try it out definitely stops my face from doing that thing.
“I’ve never prayed harder for an empty elevator,” I whisper.
She lets out a breathy laugh as the bell chimes and the doors open.
Empty. We look at each other with barely veiled anticipation before stepping in.
I practically jam my finger on the “close door” button, and when they finally do, I waste no time pulling her back to my front, sliding my hands down her stomach to the slit in her dress.
We only need to go up a few floors, but what I have planned for Janelle will require more time, so we’re headed to the rooftop. I couldn’t care less if we’re late.
My hands wander beneath her skirt to find her bare and wet. “Were you planning this, J?”
“I can’t say I wasn’t hoping for it.” Her voice is raspy with need, desperate for a release she knows I can deliver. A ding lets us know we’ve passed another floor. I dip two of my fingers inside her, enjoying the small whimpers the movement affords me.
“Let’s make it a reality then. You want to come?” I coat my fingers with her wetness and swirl it around her clit, pressing harder when another ding comes through the elevator.
“Y-yes,” she moans. I can’t see her face, but I can tell she’s biting her lip to keep quiet.
“Nah, don’t hide, J. Let me hear you. Do you want to come?”
“Yes!” Her scream is more like a pleasurable cry, thrilling me all the same. I pull her tighter against me so she can feel how she affects me.
“That’s what I wanna hear, gorgeous. Another yes.
” Her moans grow louder as my fingers work harder.
I kiss a line from her temple to the base of her jaw as I pump my fingers in and out of her, and my thumb presses into her clit.
My other hand lays flat against her stomach, holding her in place as she rides my hand with reckless abandon, chasing her pleasure.
“You remember when we did this in Tulum?”
“Mmm, mhmm,” she mewls. My erection grows painful at the memory of that night at Mystical Nightclub.
“You like the idea of getting caught, don’t you, gorgeous? The possibility that someone else might see how you look when you come.” Her breaths grow heavier with every stroke.
“Does that bother you, Rome?” I chuckle against her throat. Even when she’s barely holding on to her senses, she always talks her shit.
Another ding. We only have a few floors left.
“Not at all. I like the idea of someone seeing how greedy you are for me. I want them to see just how much power you have over me.”
“Oh, fuck,” she gasps.
I bite her earlobe and soothe the spot with my tongue.
“You know, I can relate to Dom. Wanting someone for so long but having them be just out of your reach.” Granted, I didn’t wait twelve years for Janelle.
I don’t know how Dom did it, and I never plan to find out.
“It’s enough to make a man desperate, J. You like it when I’m desperate?”
“Fuck, yes, I do.”
Another ding.
“Tsk tsk. Maybe I’ll show you how it feels to be so desperate. Maybe I’ll stop right here.” I stop moving my fingers. I can feel the moment she stops breathing. If I could see her face right now, I’d know she’d kill me with her eyes.
“Rome,” she says sternly.
“Yes, J?”
“Stop fucking around.”
Another ding.
I laugh as I bite her earlobe again. She arches her back against me, forcing my fingers to slide back inside. I love how needy she is. My hand starts to explore her again as she finally lets out a breath. “You’re lucky I can never say no to you.” The only response I get is a low groan.
“We’re almost out of time, J. Are you gonna come for me?”
Her head flies back to lie on my chest, and I see her eyes are closed, her mouth slightly ajar. She’s close. “I’m gonna come.”
“Good. Now, say my name.” There’s not a single sound better than my name on Janelle’s lips when she comes. It’s enough to fuel me for days.
Moments later, she rewards me with the sweet melody, and I hold her steady through her trembling.
With one floor left, I have enough time to put her dress back and adjust myself.
Janelle leans against me, looking up at me with a languid smile that is guaranteed to make me feel great for the rest of the night.
No one spares us a second glance when the doors open on the rooftop. We don’t even waste time pretending to get off here. We simply let the doors close again and head back down to where we’re supposed to be, making quick stops at the bathroom along the way.
“I’m gonna put this one in the success column,” Janelle says, her voice sluggish. We’ve been rating the sex scenes in books as either a success or failure based on whether or not they’re physically possible. I knew this one would be a success; we just hadn’t had the chance to go for it until now.
“Definitely a success.”
I immediately grab two glasses of champagne for Janelle and me when we enter the event. Alcohol is absolutely required for events like this.
We’re only there for about ten minutes when my least favorite person, John Holcomb, comes over.
He runs a women’s shelter over west. You would think someone who runs a shelter would be honorable and good.
John Holcomb is as disgusting as they come.
He’s one of those people who thinks everyone should kiss the ground he walks on because he’s so giving. The irony of that is lost on him.
“Rome, how are you, sir?” He holds his hand out to shake mine, and I reluctantly take it. His eyes wander over to Janelle, who looks less than impressed with the scrawny white man with hair slicked back within an inch of its life.
“I’m good, John.” I don’t ask how he is because I don’t care.
He doesn’t seem to notice; his focus is solely on Janelle now. Men like him don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her, but I know he knows better than to try anything stupid.
“And who’s this?”
“John, this is my girlfriend, Janelle. Janelle, this is John. He runs the women’s shelter over on West Pratt.”
She looks at me like I’ve grown three heads, then shoots me a coy smile before turning her attention to John. They talk for two minutes too long before John finally moves on to bother other people.
“Sooo,” Janelle coos. “Girlfriend.”
Now it’s my turn to look at her like she’s lost it. “Is there a question in that sentence?”
“No, it’s just that we never talked about official titles, so that was new.”
I roll through the memories of the last four months, trying to pinpoint a time when we’ve referred to each other with significant other monikers. I don’t recall doing it, but it didn’t seem necessary. Everyone knows Janelle owns my heart.
“And do you have a problem with being referred to as my girlfriend?”
She steps directly before me, so close I can feel her heart beating hard. “I mean, it would be nice to be asked these things. You didn’t offer me your letterman jacket or nothin’.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so annoying.”
“I’m saying, though! No chain either? You fell off, sir.”
I’m so tempted to carry her out of here and book us a room for the night. She plays entirely too much.
“You want me to get you a promise ring from a gumball machine right quick?”
She shakes her head in utter disappointment. “Oh, how the mighty fall. You could at least get me a Ring Pop. That’s crazy.” She giggles and wraps her arms around my middle. If anybody were watching us, they would think she was leaning against me for support, but she lays gentle kisses on my chest.
“Yeah, but I already have a girlfriend. It would be wrong to cheat on her,” I say, my eyes roaming down her body.
She slaps my chest. “I will beat your ass in front of all these people.”
I pretend her slap hurt and rub the spot to soothe the fake pain. “Damn, girl. I’m sorry.”
“Mhm, you should be. ” Her shoulders shake with laughter.
“J?”
She peers up at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Will you be my girlfriend?” “ Girlfriend ” seems like such an inadequate word to describe what Janelle is to me, but it will have to do for now.
“I’ll think about it.” She disentangles her body from mine and walks to the bar for another drink.
She’ll think about it. I guess I have to give her a few more reasons to give me another yes.