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Eighteen

Quinn

R oman and I had called it a night early last night after almost going at it like horny teenagers on his kitchen counter. I had no idea what had come over me, but something about the chemistry between us was so intoxicating that I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted more. Needed more.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had been touched like that, and the funny thing was that he barely even touched me.

But the way his fingers dug into my hips was such a turn-on, almost as if he was afraid to let me go.

And that kiss—man, that kiss had nearly taken my breath away.

No one had ever kissed me with so much passion and desire, not even Justin.

We had gone our separate ways—me to the bedroom and him to the couch—but I knew he hadn’t gone to sleep until well after midnight, just like I hadn’t.

Instead, I had sat on the bed, running my fingers over my lips, and remembering the way his had felt against mine.

I was daydreaming of the next time I could kiss him when it occurred to me that there might not be a next time.

Roman had admitted that he wanted me, but that didn’t mean anything.

He also admitted that he wouldn’t act on it, which was why I had initiated everything.

But what if he really didn’t want anything beyond what we already did?

Hell—I wasn’t sure if he had even wanted that to happen or if he was just lost in the moment like I was.

His rock-hard dick was on board, even if his heart and mind hadn’t been made up yet.

I thought about Justin and found myself comparing them, which immediately made me feel guilty. Justin was my husband—the person that I had vowed to spend the rest of my life with—yet here I was, comparing all of his flaws to where Roman already excelled.

Justin had been a lazy lover, never bothering with foreplay unless it was my birthday or a holiday.

We didn’t have sex as often as I would have liked, and sometimes I wondered how I ever got pregnant with Rosie.

I liked to believe that she was the miracle that I needed in my life and that God gave me that sweet baby to help fill some of the void and loneliness that I felt in my marriage.

But Roman—Roman was different. He was caring and attentive, constantly checking to make sure I was okay and doing little things to make life easier for me.

From letting us stay with him to buying groceries for us, he had already gone above and beyond to ensure that we had the things we needed.

He didn’t disregard my feelings or brush me off when I was upset about something.

That alone gave me this hope that was blossoming quicker than I could process it.

What would it be like to be with a guy like Roman?

I had gotten up before the sun this morning and climbed out of bed, hoping to sneak in a shower without waking him up.

From what I could tell, he was still asleep on the couch, so I cranked up the hot water and stood underneath it for a few minutes, letting it wash away all of the stress that had been building up.

When I was done, I wrapped a towel around my body and quickly dried my hair with the extra one that Rosie had been using. I looked around for my clean clothes, only to realize that I had left them on the bed.

I quietly opened the door and headed for the bedroom when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, expecting to see Roman.

Instead, I found Mike with a scowl set hard on his face as he looked me up and down.

“Is that what you’re wearing around Roman?” he asked.

“No,” I quickly shook my head and pulled the towel tighter around my body. “I forgot my clothes on the bed.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Why are you here this early?” I asked, suddenly irritated with him.

Just then, Roman appeared behind him, his face tight with anger.

“What’s going on? What happened?” My heart started racing as I waited for them to tell me.

Finally, Mike sighed heavily and then looked me in the eyes.

“Rosie is missing.”