Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
LILITH
I go home after a long day at work and freeze in the doorway of my apartment. Roman Kensington is in my kitchen, dishing out Chinese food onto my mismatched plates while my cat Gracie winds between his legs, purring for scraps.
"There you are," he says, looking up with a rare, genuine smile.
He gestures to the spread on my tiny table where two candles are already lit.
"Jack said orange chicken and moo shoo pork would win you over.
And this..." He holds up a bottle of Fetzer Sundial Pinot Grigio like it's a prized vintage. “Jack says it’s your favorite wine.”
The sight of a billionaire who probably has sommeliers on speed dial and no-doubt has an entire wine cellar at home pouring twelve-dollar wine makes my chest tighten with something unexpected.
"Speaking of Jack," I say, dropping my bag, "where is my roommate hiding?"
Roman's smile turns sheepish. "I might've financially encouraged him to visit Steve and Benji tonight."
I bite my lip. Those three together means chaos somewhere in Venice Beach tonight, but for once, I'm grateful for Jack's absence.
We devour orange chicken, moo shoo pork and lo mein from white paper cartons, chopsticks clicking against cardboard as we pass the bottle of cabernet back and forth, not bothering with glasses.
We eat the food on the coffee table in front of my couch while binge-watching Friends.
When the last noodle is gone and the wine bottle stands empty on my coffee table, I find myself leaning toward him, my fingers brushing against the silk of his hair as our lips meet, tasting of soy sauce and something sweeter.
Before I know it, we're in my bed, my skin tingling where his calloused fingertips trace invisible figure-eights across my collarbone, down the ladder of my ribs.
Roman's dark eyes, flecked with subtle green in the dim lamplight, lock with mine as he moves inside me—not with last night's wild beach frenzy that left sand in the sheets, but with a deliberate, measured rhythm that makes my breath catch in my throat.
Each slow, deep thrust makes me see stars, my body a live wire reaching ground.
His weight pins me down yet somehow lifts me up. When his lips touch below my ear, tasting of salt and whiskey, I arch against him. The world shrinks to just this—his heartbeat on my chest, my sheets cool against my back, and the tension building between us like a tide coming in.
Again and again, we make love like this, his calloused hands tracing fire across my skin, my fingernails leaving crescent moons on his broad shoulders.
Until finally, around 2 in the morning, after making love for six hours, we collapse in a tangle of limbs, skin glistening with sweat, breath coming in ragged gasps.
He lays next to me, his muscular arm a warm weight across my waist, while I trace lazy patterns through the dark curls on his chest, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow beneath my fingertips.
I take a deep breath as I hear his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath my ear like waves against the Palos Verdes cliffs.
"Lilith," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest into mine. "I've never felt like this before. This sense of peace. Somehow, being with you tames the chaos in my head."
I sigh against his warm skin, breathing in his scent of sandalwood and salt. Max's words echo in my mind—their father, battling the dark clouds of depression since he was barely a teenager. The weight of this secret presses against my ribs, begging for release.
But the confession crystallizes in my throat, sharp and immovable.
We collapse into sleep, limbs entwined, my cheek pressed against the thundering drum of his heart, his arm locked around my waist like I might vanish if he loosens his grip.
Dawn explodes across the room, setting fire to the sheets as his hardness burns against me again.
He enters me in one desperate thrust, swallowing my gasp with a savage kiss that bruises my lips.
Our bodies collide—slick skin, ragged breath—as he drives deeper, harder, until I'm clawing the sheets, crying his name.
Then he dresses with furious reluctance, his goodbye kiss tasting of promises and possession.
As he leaves, pressing a lingering kiss to my temple, the truth about Max remains trapped behind my lips. A premonition shivers down my spine—this unspoken secret will return like a boomerang, cutting through whatever fragile peace we've found.
As much as I pray, fingers clutching my moonstone pendant, that it won't.