Chapter Twenty-One

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Ms. Mila Lawson?"

"This is Mila," I say, pulling my phone away to blink at the number. It's not even eight in the morning. Way too early for anyone to be calling, especially someone with a business-y voice. "Can I help you?"

"This is Lorelai James from the Costei Literary Agency," she says. "I'm Mr. Costei's assistant. We had you scheduled to meet with him tomorrow afternoon, but I was calling to let you know that, unfortunately, we're going to have to cancel."

"Oh." I blink. "Um, do I need to reschedule?"

"No, that won't be necessary. The position has been filled. Thank you for your interest."

"Than—" The line goes dead in my ear before I can even finish speaking. I huff and pull it away to scowl at it. "What the heck?"

That was weird. And she was rude.

One of my only two job prospects is officially dead in the water. I should be upset or anxious, right? Except…I'm not.

I'm relieved. I don't want to be in Berkeley. I don't want to spend the rest of my life trying to avoid Lizette and Damien. My future is with Roman. That's where I belong—wherever he is. Not hours away.

I already miss him like crazy. Sleeping without his arms around me last night was hard. The bed smells like him—like us. Seeing the look in his eyes when we hung up, knowing he misses me too, that was fucking hard too.

I'm only here because I didn't want to cancel that stupid interview. But the interview isn't happening, and LA is only only five hours away. I could be there by this afternoon. I could be back in Roman's arms tonight instead of two days from now.

I toss the blankets off and jump from the bed, anticipation racing through me. I grab my phone, preparing to dial his number to tell him that I'm coming to him now, and then hesitate. If I tell him, it'll only give him five hours to stress and worry about it.

But if I don't tell him until I get to town, I get to surprise him. He'll probably spank me for it, but hey, we both know how much he loves getting his hands on my ass.

My decision made, I practically run for the closet to pack the rest of my stuff.

"You've been ignoring my calls all day."

I bite my lip, fighting a smile. Someone is cranky. Not that I'm surprised. He's right—I have been ignoring his calls all day. But only because I didn't want him to figure out what I was doing. He's a cop and I'm not a very good liar. Besides, he'd have been able to tell in a heartbeat that I was on the road if we were on the phone.

I texted him this morning to tell him that I was going to be busy prepping for my interview and that I'd call him after it was over. That was right before I left Santa Cruz at ten this morning. It's now almost four in the afternoon.

"Well, hello to you too, Cranky," I say.

He growls at me.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I just got home. Why haven't you been answering my calls?"

"I was busy."

"Doing what, Mila?"

I stroll up the sidewalk toward his townhouse. It's nice. The lawn is the size of a postcard—not that I'm surprised. But it's landscaped and beautiful, with actual rosebushes.

"Just things," I tease in a singsong voice.

He growls at me again and then laughs. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a fucking brat?" He can't hide the affection in his voice. "You're lucky I'm not there right now, or you'd be paying for it."

"Oh, yeah? And what would you do about, Mister Gregory?"

"Mila." The warning in his tone sets my panties on fire. God, I love this man. I love pissing him off. I love the way he burns when I do it. I love the way he gets so fucking hot when I call him that. I love everything about him. "I'd have you on your knees choking on my fucking cock," he growls. "All nine inches shoved down your pretty little throat until you couldn't breathe."

I stumble on the sidewalk, nearly running into a poky bush. Damn. Now he's speaking my language.

"Is that right?" I breathe.

"You know it is, baby."

"Hey, Roman? Open the door and prove it."

"What?"

"You heard me. Open the door and prove it." I lean back against a post on the front porch, one hip cocked to the side, a smirk on my face, knowing damn well I'm asking for trouble.

"Mila, are you—? Jesus, baby. You better not be fucking with me," he whispers, his voice shaking. "You better be outside or I'm going to fucking drive to Santa Cruz just to spank your ass for giving a dying man hope."

"Just open the door, Roman."

A second later, I hear his footsteps pounding through the house.

I bite my lip, fighting not to laugh as my stomach turns flips. If I ever needed proof that this man is crazy about me, he just gave it to me.

Locks turn, and then he practically rips the mahogany door off the hinges in his haste to get it open. His wild hazel eyes meet mine. He's shirtless, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, all those gorgeous tattoos on display.

His phone crashes to the ground at his feet.

"Hi, handsome."

I squeal as he lifts me off my feet, crushing me against his hard chest. His mouth comes down on mine, his kiss scorching. He tastes like mint and man, so damn intoxicating.

Frantic with need, he stumbles backward with me in his arms, his towel slipping precariously in his haste.

The door slams shut behind us, shutting out the world.

His towels falls forgotten on the floor as he presses me back against the door with a force that knocks my breath out. His chest, hard and warm against mine, shudders with urgency when I wrap my hand around his length, all too eager to have my hands on him again.

He kisses me like I"m his lifeline, pouring all his bottled-up emotions into it. His hand travels down my body, tracing the curve of my waist before he grips my ass hard, making me gasp into his mouth.

He chuckles, a low rumble vibrating between us.

He pulls back a fraction to drink in my face under the dim light. "God, Mila... I"ve missed you," he murmurs, sweetness tinging his voice.

His gaze drops where I'm touching him. A shudder rips through him at the sight of my hand wrapped around his hard length. But his long fingers grasp my wrist, firmly prying my hand from his cock.

I whimper in protest. I wasn't nearly finished with him.

One dark brow arches up, the devil lighting his eyes. "Did you think I forgot?" he practically purrs, sliding my down his body until my feet hit the floor. "On your fucking knees, baby."

I drop, all too willing to obey this command.

"You're really here," he says well over an hour later, watching me from across the living room as I prowl around, looking through all his stuff.

He doesn't have much of it. Unlike the house in Santa Cruz, this one is…sad. Empty. There are no photos of Tahani on the walls, no personal touches. Aside from the books lining the shelves, it's as if no traces of the man I've fallen in love with exist inside this house.

He warned me, but I don't think I understood exactly what it meant. He doesn't have a life here. He lives in the shadows, hiding everything that matters to him. He's lived this way for so long now.

It breaks my heart for him.

"Are you very mad?" I ask, peeking at him over my shoulder.

"Fuck no," he growls. "I barely slept last night because you weren't in my arms, snoring in my ear and stealing all the fucking covers."

"I do not snore."

A smile ghosts across his lips. "But you admit you steal all the covers?"

"Maybe," I mumble. I absolutely steal all the covers. He keeps the bedroom freezing! He shouldn't make it so cold if he wants to be warm. He can suffer on his own. I'm not doing it for him.

His smile grows. "You skipped your interview."

"They canceled." My brows furrow. "I guess they hired someone else they interviewed. I didn't see a reason to wait until the day after tomorrow to come so I decided to surprise you." I look up at him through my lashes. "You made me sad last night."

"Well, fuck them for canceling on you. And thank God you came early," he says, pushing away from the wall to stride toward me. "But how'd I make you sad, baby?"

"You looked sad," I say softly, staring up at him. "Lonely. I didn't like it, Roman."

He tugs me into his arms, resting his chin against the top of my head. "I never realized how goddamn lonely my life was until you turned it upside down. You're supposed to be right here in my arms, Mila. It's where you belong."

He's right. This is where I belong.

I just wish Tahani would give us a chance to show her that too. Because as much as I love being in his arms, doing it without her at my side feels wrong. She's my best friend and his daughter. She's supposed to be in our lives.

What the hell am I supposed to do if she doesn't forgive us?