Page 15 of Deceptive Desires

He mutters something under his breath and stares at the ceiling for the five seconds it takes for me to get situated. He then covers me with my blanket and just stares.

“Call me when you’re better. We have a yoga date to go on.” He grins, then heads out.

He says something I don’t catch to Gracie, and she leads him out.

I pretend to fall asleep, so I don’t have to answer her questions.

I want to bask in what just occurred.

Chapter 9

Roman

I walk down the hallway of Cecilia’s apartment and scold myself.

I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t be near her.

She smelled the lemon.

There’s no way for her to know what that means. To know the reason I use lemons. What the smell hides.

But it’s too close.

I need to let her go.

Or I could just hide it from her. She thinks the lemons are from work. Which they are. I didn’t technically lie.

Maybe I can make this work. Maybe she doesn’t need to know every detail of my life. At least, not yet.

Men and women lie to each other all the time. I’m sure she has her secrets.

The only difference between us is I’m going to find them all.

Chapter 10

Cecilia

I feel myself waking up from my nap. I peek my eyes open to see if Gracie is still in the living room.

She is.

Sitting across from me. On one of the armchairs.

I quickly squeeze my eyes back shut and focus on taking slow, even breaths. Pretending to be asleep gives me a little more time to figure out what to tell her.

“Dude, I know you’re awake. Talk to me. What the hell was that? You forgot to mention he’s sexy as fuck, you little shit,” Gracie grumbles at me.

Something hits my head and falls to the floor with a thud. A pillow rests on the ground.

“Okay, fine. So, maybe I left out a few details,” I concede as I sit up.

“Like every interesting detail! Here I am, concerned that some creep is going to show up and take you in the middle of the night, but a terrifyingly sinful, sexy God of Darkness comes instead!”

“Terrifyingly sinful, sexy God of Darkness? No part of Roman is terrifying, sinful, or dark!” I counter, not standing for Roman slander.

“Babe, were you looking at the same man as I was? The buzz cut, tatted, gigantic, sexy man straight from a delectable nightmare? The man dripping in sin? For fucks sake, he was wearing all black!” She’s exasperated.

“He does not look like he’s from a nightmare! He’s sweet as can be. A gentle giant!” I try to convince her. There’s nothing evil about my hero.