Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Roman

The rest of the evening is quiet.

I make Maddie dinner, helping her to the stool at the counter where we eat.

I can’t help but compare Maddie with my mother. Maddie is the first woman to live in the same space with me since my mother’s death.

And while Maddie is not a drunk, there are certain similarities. I had to feed my mother too. It’s where I learned to cook. She’d need me to cook for her to sop up the alcohol.

It touches some deep chord. This is the exact kind of relationship I’ve been carefully avoiding.

Any woman is too much commitment for me. But Maddie would be this other level…

Not that I’m not tempted.

I sit next to her, glancing over as she delicately eats, her blonde hair tumbling down her back.

Sick fuck that I am, there’s a part of me that wants to brush it out. Run my hands through it, as I carefully style the silky strands. For some reason, when it comes to Maddie, I’m turning into a masochist.

I clear my throat, sitting back on my backed stool. “Tonight, I’ll let you have the bed.”

She looks over at me, and I catch the slight wince. Does she want me in the bed with her? Trust me, I want to be there.

While I’m feeling conflicted about the relationship, I’m crystal clear on the sexual energy sparking between us.

I want Maddie more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman, and I intend to have her.

But not tonight. I’ve got business and she’s not ready.

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the couch,” I answer, setting down my fork.

I need to leave and search Luke’s office, but I’d prefer Maddie not know I was gone at all. I wish I was going with Leo to look for Luke myself. But I trust Mason.

Or I usually trust Mason. Today tested that trust. Between banning me from Luke’s search and throwing shade at Maddie…

But I’ll hold the line. Mason is our fearless leader.

She takes another bite of the chicken and tahini sauce that I’ve made, her jaw softly chewing until she gives the meat a delicate swallow.

I silently make her a few promises.

I’ll make certain her future is secure.

I’ll see that she has a facility, a place to live.

I know it won’t be her grandmother’s house, but I can install all the latest features, make it as comfortable a place to live as it can possibly be. No stairs, voice-activated everything, proper lighting.

Maddie deserves that.

She deserves a great deal more…

I grimace as I pick up my fork again. I still hate taking her grandmother’s place away.

“Everything all right?”

“Fine,” I answer.

“You know…” She twirls her fork on her plate. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch. I…”

Is she inviting me into the bed with her? My body hardens at the thought of having her pressed against me. Her curves molded to me in the best way last night.

But I’ve got another agenda. “I need to work late anyway. I’ve got financials to review, and rosters to look over.”

She gives a quick nod. “Of course.”

I get up from the counter, taking my plate to the sink and loading it in the dishwasher. “I can take yours whenever you’re ready.”

She nods. “Given a bit of time in your place, I can do these things myself. I do at home.”

I wince, knowing I’m trying to take that home away from her. But honestly, she’ll adjust to a new place.

Still, the thought has me opening the fridge. “Would you like a glass of wine? I’ve got a beautiful white open that I brought back from Italy.”

“No thank you,” she replies, getting up with her plate. With one hand on the counter, she walks around the peninsula.

She reaches me and I take the plate from her hand, loading it into the dishwasher. She reaches down too, her hand gently tracing several edges. My cock swells. I want her hands on me like that.

The way her fingers softly explore, trailing, tracing…it’s sexy as hell.

“You’re sure you don’t want wine?” I pull down a glass for myself.

She shrugs. “Can I try just a sip of yours? I’m not much of a drinker.”

I stop, watching her as she finishes exploring the door of the dishwasher and straightens. “No alcohol for you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m impaired enough.”

My chest tightens. How does this woman always manage to slip past my defenses? I set the bottle down next to the glass and reach for her hand.

Maneuvering her around the dishwasher door, I pull her into my arms. She molds to me, her torso pressed from shoulder to hip against me, her arms winding around my neck.

Did I say I was going to wait? Take things slow?

I’d like to pull her into the bedroom right now, kiss every inch of her, watch her hands on my body.

Her face burrows into my neck, her nose sliding along my skin.

The wine is forgotten as I lift her up, carrying her toward the bedroom.

“I can walk, you know,” she says, sounding a bit breathless.

“I like carrying you,” I answer. The strange part is that I do. Taking care of her is feeling less like a burden and more like…

I stop in the middle of the bedroom. I can’t follow this thought. Because maybe I feel like that now, but how will I feel a year from now? Two?

I don’t do this. I don’t have relationships.

Her fingers slide in my hair, skimming around the lump that’s still there from last night. “How’s your head?”

“Much better than yesterday,” I answer, closing my eyes to feel the skimming of her fingers over my scalp.

“And your chest?”

There is a very dull ache where the bullet punched into the vest. “A small bruise. That’s it.”

“Any news on Luke?”

My heart rate increases, blood rushing in my ears. “Not yet.” I drop my forehead to hers. “I know you’re worried about Kate. As soon as I know anything…”

“Thank you.”

I start moving again, making my way into the bathroom, Maddie in my arms. It’s not even eight but the sun has set, and I really do have a great deal of work to do before I go to sleep.

Maddie brushes her teeth in one sink, me in the other. She starts to wash her face and I head back into the bedroom, pulling out a cute pajama set for her. Shorts and a tank.

It’s the right blue to match her eyes.

Returning to the bathroom, I find her brushing out the long strands of her blonde hair.

Not able to help myself, I reach for the brush, gently removing it from her hand before I start to brush the strands myself. “Your hair is so healthy,” I murmur.

“Most men do not notice those particulars,” she laughs back. “But maybe because I can’t see the strands, the feel of them is super important to me. I can’t abide split ends.”

I gather her hair in my hand and kiss her neck. I’m back to being that masochist. I told myself I didn’t want this kind of relationship, and I don’t. So why do I feel so satisfied taking care of her? “I laid out your pajamas.”

She looks over her shoulder. “Roman.”

I can hear the disapproval in her voice. “How are you going to find all these things on your own while you’re here?”

“Help me learn. Okay?”

“Okay.” I take her hand then, slowly leading her back toward the bedroom. “How much can you see?”

“The lighting in your apartment is excellent so I can see the broad shapes. I just don’t make out details.”

I nod. “See the dresser right in front of you?”

“Yes.”

“Your clothes are in the top two drawers.”

She nods but her steps slow. “Is there any room in the closet?”

“Yes.” My stuff only takes up half the massive walk-in.

“Can I hang a few things? It’s easier for me to identify items when they’re on hangers.”

“Of course. We’ll move anything you’d like tomorrow. But for tonight,” and then I pull her toward the bed, “let me help you into the set I picked out.”

She shakes her head as she lets me turn her toward the bed. “I can…”

“I’m sure you can dress and undress yourself,” I rumble. Putting clothes on her isn’t something I’m gray about. This is a job I just like doing, no reservations.

My hands on her skin is just fucking fantastic. “Now come here and let me take off your clothes.”