Page 14 of Possessed By Roman

Chapter Three

Cora

I wake slowly, warm and comfortable beneath the blankets, and for one blissful second, I have no idea where I am. Then I remember. I’m in Atlanta, in Roman’s apartment. My father is missing. And I kissed Roman.

My eyes fly open.

The memory hits me so hard that I lie perfectly still, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling while my entire body burns with desire. My nipples harden into hard peaks as I remember the way Roman ravaged and worshiped my lips all at once.

I’ve never been truly and thoroughly kissed like that. Ever. I kissed a few guys in high school, but it never went much further. Moving around so much made relationships feel temporary before they even started, and once I got to college, I threw myself into my psychology degree instead.

There have been guys. Dates. Opportunities.

I’ve just never wanted anyone enough to go further.

Which makes the way my body responds to Roman even more unsettling. One kiss, and suddenly I understand what I’ve apparently been missing.

“Oh, my God.” I turn my face into the pillow and scream in frustration and embarrassment.

This is ridiculous. My father is missing, possibly kidnapped. I am hundreds of miles away from home, living temporarily with a man I barely know. And instead of waking up focused entirely on finding my father, I am lying in bed thinking about Roman Taylor’s lips.

And his arms. And the way his body felt against mine. I groan and sit up. “Get a grip, Cora.”

My body clearly doesn’t agree. I force myself out of bed before my thoughts can get any worse, grab clean clothes, and head into the bathroom. A few minutes later, after a quick shower and an attempt to make myself look like a normal human being, I step into the hallway with one goal.

Find Roman. Get an update. Simple. Then I walk into the kitchen and forget every single one of those goals. Roman is standing in the kitchen. Shirtless. For several seconds, I simply stare. There is no other way to describe it.

My eyes move over the broad expanse of his back. The tattoos covering his arms and shoulders. The muscles shifting beneath his skin as he reaches for something on the counter. His dark brown hair is still slightly damp, grazing his shoulders.

And he is wearing a pair of dark sweatpants that hang low enough on his hips to make me immediately regret having functional eyesight. My entire body reacts. My stomach clenches, and warmth gathers low between my thighs. The intensity of the reaction catches me off guard all over again.

This man is a problem. A huge, broody, tattooed, shirtless problem.

“Morning.”

I jump. Roman glances over his shoulder. He clearly knows I’ve been standing here.

My cheeks heat. “Morning.”

His eyes linger on my face. “You sleep okay?”

“Fine.” My voice comes out slightly too high.

Roman turns back toward the stove. I clear my throat and walk farther into the kitchen. Since he’s not talking about what happened last night, then I’m going to forget about desperately trying to act like I haven’t just spent the last thirty seconds mentally undressing him.

“What are you making?”

“Breakfast.”

“I can see that.”

He glances at me again. I cross my arms. “Are you always going to answer questions like that?”

“Probably.”

I look at the food spread across the counter. Bacon, eggs, and bread, nothing complicated. But after everything that happened yesterday, the simple sight of a normal breakfast almost makes me feel better.

My father is still missing. The thought hits me again. I look up to find Roman’s worried gaze on me. “Any news?”