8. Melissa Domaine
The first thing I felt was weight.
Not like heavy-on-my-chest panic weight. Just… warm. Solid. Like somebody’s arm was laying across my waist like it belonged there.
For a split second, my brain tried to tell me it was Jordan, and my whole body got ready to snap.
Then that clean, expensive cologne hit my nose, and Roman Blake came to mind.
Everything from last night rushed me at once.
The way his voice dropped when he told me I wasn’t by myself no more.
The way my body reacted to every touch like it’d been waitin’ on him.
The way he looked at me like I already belonged to him.
I opened my eyes slow. The room was dim, curtains pulled just enough for the sun not to slap me too hard. The sheets smelled like us. My legs were sore in a good way, and my chest felt tight in the worst way.
I really woke up in bed next to Roman Blake.
“Stupid,” I whispered under my breath.
Roman’s arm tightened around my waist like he heard me talkin’ crazy.
“I know you ain’t in here callin’ me stupid,” he mumbled, voice low and rough from sleep, chest rumblin’ against my back.
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “I was talkin’ to myself.”
“Then say ‘self,’ so I know the difference,” he said, voice deeper now. I could hear the little smirk without even lookin’ at him.
I shifted, turning in his hold so I was facing him. He moved his arm but didn’t let me go, just slid his hand to my hip instead. His eyes were half-open, lazy and dark, watchin’ me like he had all the damn time in the world.
And that was a problem.
‘Cause he looked too good this close.
Beard a little rough. Lashes too long for a man. That tiny scar on his jaw catching just a little light.
“Morning,” I said quietly.
“Morning,” he echoed, eyes still stuck on my face.
For a second, neither one of us said nothin’. The bed smelled like sex and soap and his cologne. My body was very aware of everything that happened last night, and the way his hand was sittin’ on my hip wasn’t helpin’ my situation at all.
I cleared my throat. “I’m hungry.”
“That so?” His gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth for half a second, then came back up. “You want food or you tryna be funny?”
“Relax,” I mumbled, pushing at his chest just enough to make a little space, even though part of me ain’t wanna move at all. “I meant actual food.”
He let his arm fall away and rolled onto his back, one hand comin’ up to rub his face. “I’ll order somethin’ up,” he said. “You feelin’ okay?”
I sat up slow, checkin’ in with my body. I was sore, but not in a scary way. More like…
Yeah.
In a he did his job way.
“My body hurt in places I forgot I had,” I admitted, smirkin’ a little before I caught myself. “But I’m straight.”
He smirked like he already knew. “You welcome.”
“Boy, shut up,” I said, grabbin’ the sheet off the bed and wrappin’ it around me like a dress.
The second my feet hit the floor, flashes of last night hit me again. Me under him. Him whisperin’, “I got you,” over and over like it was somethin’ he needed me to believe.
My chest tightened.
Not ‘cause of the sex.
‘Cause of everything that came with it.
I walked into the bathroom, flipped the light on, and stared at myself in the mirror.
My hair was wild but still cute. Face bare, lips a little swollen, eyes softer than I like seein’ when I look at myself.
This was supposed to be my get-away-from-all-the-bullshit trip.
Not my let-a-man-crawl-in between my legs trip.
Water was runnin’ in the sink before I even realized I turned it on. I splashed some on my face, washed my hands, then leaned on the counter, starin’ at my reflection.
“Girl, what is you doin’?” I whispered to myself.
Fucking Roman was not the plan.
Lettin’ him sleep next to me after? Definitely not the plan.
Feelin’… safe? Held? Seen?
That was the part that scared me.
From the bedroom, I heard his voice, low and calm, talkin’ to room service like this was his normal.
Like me in his bed was normal.
That thought made my stomach flip in a way I did not trust.
I took a breath, pulled the sheet tighter around me, and walked back out.
He was sittin’ at the edge of the bed in just some sweats, phone in his hand, tattoos on full display. He looked up when he heard me, eyes draggin’ from my face to the way the sheet was sittin’ on my body.
His mouth curved a little. “You good?”
“I’m straight,” I lied, leanin’ against the dresser. “So… about last night.”
His jaw flexed just a tiny bit.
“Let me guess,” he said, voice even but I caught that little edge. “We just two friends havin’ some fun, right?”
I sucked my teeth. “Yeah. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less. We grown. We did what we did. It don’t gotta be that deep.”
He held my eyes, sayin’ nothin’.
The silence made my skin itch.
“I told you before we even left the city,” I went on. “I’m on my fun shit. Date, fuck, go home. No catchin’ feelings. No attachments. No expectations. That’s where I’m at.”
He nodded slow like he was listenin’, but his face didn’t change. “You done?”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You asked me what I wanted. I been told you,” he said.
“Last night didn’t change that. Saint Lucia just made it louder.
I like bein’ around you. I ain’t never treated you like no random.
” He shrugged a little. “You can call it ‘fun’ if that make you feel safer, but stop talkin’ to me like I’m one of these niggas you play with and dip on. ”
My stomach dipped, and I hated that for me.
“I ain’t play nobody,” I sassed.
He raised a brow. “So every man you been with got the same access you give me?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
No.
He knew that.
I knew that.
“That’s not the point,” I said, lookin’ away. “The point is, I don’t want no serious shit right now, Roman. I just got my head halfway together. My daddy still stressin’ me. I got memories I’m still tryin’ to scrub out. I came out here to breathe, not to start some shit I don’t know how to finish.”
He stood up then, slid his phone in his pocket, and walked closer. Not touchin’ me. Just close enough for me to feel him.
“You already started it,” he said quietly. “The second you let me in. The second you stopped runnin’ from me and let yourself want me out loud. You think goin’ back home gon’ erase that?”
His words hit places I was tryna pretend didn’t exist.
I swallowed. “We said no pressure.”
“No titles,” he corrected. “I said I wasn’t slappin’ a label on you while we was on vacation. I never said I wasn’t takin’ you serious.”
I rolled my eyes to cover how that made my heart jump. “You don’t even know if I take you serious.”
He leaned in just a little, eyes locked on mine. “I know your body do.”
Heat shot straight through me, fast and disrespectful.
“Boy, get out my face,” I snapped, pushin’ his chest.
That just made him smirk.
A knock on the door saved me from havin’ to find a better comeback. Roman stepped back, grabbed his wallet off the nightstand, and glanced at me.
“Go sit down,” he said. “I’ll grab it.”
“Don’t be bossin’ me around.”
“Melissa.”
The way he said my name made my mouth shut all the way up.
“Whatever, Roman,” I sassed while heading to sit down.
I went and sat at the small table by the window, still wrapped in the sheet. My mind was goin’ a mile a minute, but my stomach didn’t care about none of that…it was growlin’ loud as hell.
By the time he came back in with the tray, I had my face turned toward the water, tryin’ to slow my thoughts down.
He set the food down…eggs, fruit, some kinda potatoes, two juices—like he did this all the time.
“You really ordered all this?” I asked.
He smirked. “You said you was hungry. I don’t half-feed people.”
He fixed me a plate without askin’, slid it toward me. I wanted to argue on reflex, but the truth was… it felt nice.
Somebody just… doin’ for me without me havin’ to beg, explain, or trade pieces of myself for it.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“You welcome.” He sat across from me with his own plate, diggin’ in.
For a few minutes, it was quiet except for silverware and the ocean outside. My mind, of course, refused to shut up.
What we did last night.
How easy it felt layin’ next to him.
How dangerous that ease was for a girl like me.
Roman looked up mid-bite, his gaze catchin’ mine. “Talk.”
“‘Bout what?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was on.
“Whatever got you starin’ at your eggs like they offended you.”
I stared at my plate for a second, then took a slow sip of juice, tryin’ to decide how honest I wanted to be.
“Last night…” I started, then stopped.
He waited.
I hated that he was patient.
“Last night just… fucked me up a little,” I admitted finally. “In a good way and a bad way. I ain’t feel like that in a minute. And I don’t know what to do with it.”
His jaw worked, eyes never leavin’ mine. “What you mean ‘bad way’?”
“‘Cause I know me,” I said. “I know how I get when I really like somebody. I be all in. Head gone. Ignorin’ red flags, pink flags, white flags, every color flag.” I shrugged one shoulder. “I promised myself I wasn’t doin’ that shit no more.”
“So your solution is what?” he asked. “Feel somethin’ and pretend you don’t?”
“Yes,” I said flatly. “Exactly.”
He huffed out a little laugh with no humor in it. “How that workin’ for you?”
“Was workin’ fine till you popped up on this damn island,” I snapped.
He smirked. “So it wasn’t workin’.”
I sucked my teeth. “You irritatin’.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I’m not goin’ nowhere just ‘cause you scared of yourself.”
My fork paused halfway to my mouth. “Who said I was scared?”
He raised a brow. “You did. Might not have used that exact word, but that’s what it is. You scared to like me out loud, scared to need me, scared I’ma turn into every nigga that disappointed you.”
He wasn’t wrong.
That was the part that pissed me off.
“I don’t need nobody,” I shot back. “That’s the whole point.”
“That’s your trauma talkin’,” he said quietly. “Not you.”
I stared at him, heat pricklin’ the back of my eyes.
“You really think you know everything,” I mumbled, lookin’ away.
“I don’t know everything,” he said. “But I know how you act when you don’t care, and I know how you act when you do.
You don’t let men see you sleep. You don’t let men see you without your lashes on.
You don’t roll over and tuck yourself into a nigga’s chest ‘cause it ‘just fun.’” He shrugged. “You ain’t built like that.”
His words landed heavy.
‘Cause he was right again.
I pushed my plate away and sat back, arms crossin’ over my chest like I could block him out.
“I hate you,” I said just above a whisper.
He chuckled low. “Nah, you don’t.”
I sucked my teeth. “Whatever.”
He leaned back too, studyin’ me. “Look. I’m not askin’ you to leave this island wit’ a relationship status.
I’m not askin’ you to go back home and move in with me, have my kids tomorrow, none of that.
All I’m sayin’ is stop lyin’ to yourself like you don’t feel shit.
‘Cause I do. And I’m not gon’ water it down to make you comfortable. ”
My throat got tight.
I wasn’t used to this kind of clarity and honesty.
No games, no “we just vibin’,” no “we chillin’, see where it go.”
He was tellin’ me flat out how he felt.
And I didn’t know how to hold it.
“I hear you,” I said finally, voice small.
He tilted his head. “But?”
“But I still don’t want nothin’ heavy right now,” I said. “I meant that. When we get back, I still got my own shit I gotta deal with. My daddy. My money. My peace. I’m not lettin’ a nigga shake that again, Roman. I refuse.”
He nodded slow like he was absorb in’ it. “Aight. You don’t want heavy. Cool.”
Relief and disappointment hit me at the same time.
“But understand somethin’,” he added. “Me callin’ you. Checkin’ on you. Poppin’ up to see you when I feel like it. That’s not ‘heavy’ to me. That’s bare minimum when I give a fuck. So don’t ask me to fall back to ‘normal nigga’ levels. I’m not him.”
I stared at him, heart knockin’ loud.
“I don’t like you,” I muttered.
He smirked, eyes droppin’ to my mouth. “Yeah, you do.”
I wanted to throw my fork at him so bad.
Instead, I finished my food in stubborn silence while he watched me like I was somethin’ he’d already made his mind up about.
Later that afternoon, I ended up back in my own villa. Roman walked me across like he was escortin’ me through a damn war zone, eyes checkin’ everything even though it was bright as hell outside.
“You good?” he asked once we got to my door.
“I’m fine,” I said, keycard in my hand.
He nodded, but his eyes dropped to my face, searchin’ it one more time. “I’m next door if you need anythin’.”
“I’m not gon’ need nothin’,” I said quick.
He gave me that look that said he knew that was a lie. “Aight, Melissa.”
He turned to go, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.
“Roman.”
He looked back. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I said again, the words sittin’ heavy on my tongue. “For… all of it. For last night. For takin’ care of me. For not makin’ me feel stupid today.”
Somethin’ in his eyes softened.
“You ain’t stupid,” he said. “You just not used to somebody showin’ up how they supposed to. That’s not on you. That’s on them niggas.” He paused. “And for the record… you safe with me. Whether we fuckin’ or not. Don’t forget that.”
My chest squeezed.
I dropped my gaze. “Go head, Roman.”
He let out a small laugh and finally walked off. I watched him cross the little walkway, disappear into his place, then went inside mine and shut the door.
The second the lock clicked, I pressed my back against it and slid down to the floor.
My heart was doin’ way too much.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my forehead on ‘em for a second, tryin’ to breathe.
This was supposed to be a simple getaway.
A chance to not think about my daddy, or Jordan, or home, or any of the mess I left behind for a few days.
Instead, I was out here lettin’ a man I already knew was a problem hold me like I was somethin’ precious, fuck me like he’d been studyin’ my body for years, and tell me I was safe with him like he meant that shit.
And now I couldn’t even lie to myself about the way my body and my heart reacted when he was near.
“Girl, you in trouble,” I whispered.
‘Cause the worst part was…
I already knew I wasn’t done with him.
And I had a feelin’ this little vacation was just the start of some shit I was nowhere near ready for.