Page 13 of The London Chance

“Some people are good at it. Not me.” Roman winced slightly. “Look…I should have ended our dating-app liaison well before it got to this point, but I really liked talking to you. You’re the first real ray of sunshine I’ve had in my life in years, and I didn’t want to lose it. But when you said you were coming here, I was torn between what I wanted and what I knew would never work. Like a coward, I didn’t say a thing.”

I squinted. “So if I’m hearing correctly, last night was all your fault?”

He chuckled as I hoped he might. “Possibly. I probably wasn’t myself at dinner, and I’ve been told I can be a little intense when I’m uncomfortable. I’m sorry dinner turned out to be anticlimactic. That’s on me.”

“Meh. It takes two to tango and all that.” I waved dismissively, suddenly anxious to skip over the “let’s be honest” portion of the program I’d set into action.

“True. But you should know that I think you’re a very sexy man, and you’re funny too. Maybe long-distance isn’t for me, but I would have been open to…”

“To what?” I prodded.

Roman shook his head wryly. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“Sure, it does. For the sake of honesty and all that jazz.”

I waggled my brows as I cradled my mug. He didn’t take the bait, which meant he’d most likely maxed out his honesty quotient. I understood, but as my mind cleared, my synapses started firing double time. Yeah, I was a ridiculous romantic who’d secretly hoped Roman might be someone special. That obviously wasn’t the case, but this whole situation didn’t have to be a total bust.

“I’ll check your clothes in the dryer and—”

“You think I’m sexy?” I blurted.

Roman’s lips quirked at the corners. “Yes…”

“Cool. Likewise. And I’m here for nine more days.”

“I see. And what are you suggesting, Chance?” he asked, leaning forward so the inside of my knee brushed his.

“Oh, nothing lascivious. Get your mind out of the gutter,” I chided. And yes, that was nothing but hypocritical bullshit. My mind was always in the gutter. “I was thinking that if you’re interested, we could…hang out this week. No strings attached. I have a few meetings, but I have a lot of free time too.”

“Nothing lascivious?”

“Well, I’d definitely be open to lascivious. Sure. But you could just show me the city, let me take you out to dinner, and…I don’t know, continue our ongoing ‘Would You Rather’ game. Would you rather have free food for life or free airfare for life? Airfare for me…although now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds like a bad answer. Whatever, I’m sticking with it, so don’t—”

Roman closed the distance between us, wrapped his fingers around my nape, and sealed his mouth over mine.

I was too shocked to make sense of the sudden yet happy change of events. His lips were soft, but his hold on me was firm and unwavering. He dominated with an ease that gave me full-body shivers. And the second he pushed his tongue inside, I hummed in approval, draping my arms over his shoulders as he effortlessly pulled me to my feet.

And damn, he was an expert kisser. He splayed his hands on my hips, slyly lowering them to rest on my ass as he tilted his chin, deepening the connection with the sweeping glide of his talented tongue. We made out, testing angles as we got better acquainted.

I loved the feel of his stubbled jaw against mine and the playful drag of his teeth across my bottom lip. I was weak in the knees and out of breath when he gently pulled away.

“Was that what you had in mind?” His voice was pure gravel. Gah, I could have melted at his feet.

I nodded, awestruck and breathless…and yes, still hungover, but feeling better by the minute. “Yeah, I’d be down for more of that.”

Roman smiled. “Me too. Give me your phone number. I’ll make a reservation for dinner tomorrow at…”

I listened with half an ear as he droned on about a great restaurant on the Thames with panoramic views of London. He was still talking as he moved into an alcove off the kitchen, reappearing with my clean socks and the briefs I’d been wearing last night. He handed them to me, pausing to stack my breakfast dishes before continuing into the kitchen.

I dropped my stuff on the table and followed him…as if his nearness would help me decipher sentences like “walk from St. Paul’s” and “great pub across the river.” I didn’t care about cathedrals, restaurants, or pubs. I wanted his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my ass again. And standing in his kitchen in borrowed clothes left me with just the right amount of “nothing to lose.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere.”

Roman turned off the faucet and dried his hands on a dish towel as he pivoted toward me. I did my best not to flinch at his thorough once-over. He was out of my league for sure, but I wasn’t a troll. And I had a few things going for me—a good job, good friends, some money in the bank.

Oh, and I owned my condo…which was nowhere near as nice as this one. Then again, bragging about homeownership wasn’t a go-to flirty maneuver. In fact, it was kind of douchey.

I wracked my brain for something sexy to do or say, but the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other were at war on this one.