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5

ALESSIA

R omiro slows his car to a stop outside my apartment building. It’s dark outside, the sun still hiding. I turn to look at him, and take in his sharp jaw and the small scar that runs from the top of his cupid’s bow to the corner of his mouth. I try not to let my eyes linger on his lips, so I decide to ask, “Want to come up for a nightcap?”

He gives me his signature smirk before replying, “You know I’d never say no to alcohol.” Rom pushes his door open, and before I can even reach over to open my door, he swings it open and says, “Slow and steady doesn’t always win the race, Red.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you,” I retort, laughing at the way his smug smirk drops from his face. He mutters something under his breath, something I can’t quite hear. “Did you say something?” I ask, leaning in close to him in a mocking manner.

He leans in, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down my spine. “I was just thinking”—he pauses, his breath tickling my skin—“if you want a demonstration, all you have to do is ask.”

I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, arching a brow. “Overconfident, aren’t you?” I say, feigning nonchalant even as my pulse quickens.

His smirk returns, slow and deliberate. “Is it overconfidence if I’ve never been wrong?”

Sucking in a breath, I try to brush off his words, but there’s a dangerous flame licking at me, heating the spaces where his voice has settled. My heart hammers, and despite myself, I feel the undeniable pull, the way his eyes trace over me like he’s memorizing every reaction. My skin tingles where his breath had brushed against it, a ghost of warmth that lingers, demanding to be felt again. The elevator doors close, and it starts ascending toward my apartment.

I swallow, forcing myself to smirk, to play along even as my pulse betrays me. “You think you’re that irresistible, huh?” The words sound steady, teasingalmost, if it weren’t for the way my voice dipsfor the breath I can’t quite catch.

He doesn’t break eye contact, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly, like he can see through every attempt I make to hold back. His hand moves, fingers brushing my wrist in a touch so fleeting it could almost be accidental. Almost . I feel my resolve slip just a bit more. But the elevator doors snap open onto my floor, and he moves back, slower than he should’ve. His touch lingering, his heat searing itself into my skin.

I quickly open my apartment door and drop the keys into the paw-shaped key holder. Mr. Marvin loops himself around my legs as he purrs. Romiro bends down to my cat’s level and pets him. “Hey there.” Rom scratches behind his ear before picking him up and walking into my space.

The door closes with a small thud, and I make my way in behind them, the low light casting Romiro in harsh shadows, accentuating his lethal looks. He’s whispering something in Mr. Marvin’s ear, the scene unfolding in front of me makes it hard to hold back giggles. I head to my liquor cabinet and pull out some cognac, pouring two fingers for each of us before placing one in front of Romiro and sitting beside him, making sure I leave some space between us. Romiro lets Mr. Marvin go before grabbing his glass and swirling the cognac, the amber liquid catching in the dim light. He brings the glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. He’s watching me with a quiet intensity, as if he’s waiting for me to make the next move—or daring me to.

I shift slightly, pretending to focus on my own drink, but every nerve feels attuned to him, to the space he’s occupying beside me. The faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and smoky, and the magnetic pull between us grows stronger with each passing second. I take a sip of my drink, hoping the burn will distract me from the heat settling in my chest.

Setting down his glass, he leans back, stretching his arm along the back of the couch—close, but still with just enough distance that it feels calculated. His fingers rest near my shoulder, close enough that if I just shifted a little, I’d feel his touch again.

“So,” he says, his voice low, almost casual, “is this what you had in mind for tonight?”

The question sounds innocent enough, but the way he’s looking at me, his gaze steady and unreadable, says otherwise.

I meet his eyes, feeling my bravado falter, and shrug. “You tell me. You’re the one who’s so confident about knowing what I want.”

He lets out a breath of laughter, his eyes narrowing with amusement. “Oh, I know what you want.” He leans forward, closing that final inch of space between us, his hand skimming the edge of my shoulder, barely a touch, but enough to make me freeze. “The question is,” he continues, his voice a rasp against my skin, “do you?”

For a beat, I can’t answer. Every part of me is painfully aware of how close he is, of the heat radiating from his hand where it hovers just shy of my skin. I know I should laugh it off, throw back some teasing remark, but nothing seems to come to me. So I stand abruptly, hoping to break free of the charged bubble surrounding us, but his hand catches mine, and with a smooth pull, I’m in his lap before I can blink twice.

A yelp slips from my lips, but he’s already leaning in, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my mouth, intent and unyielding. The breath catches in my throat, and before I can overthink it, his lips find mine, soft, yet sure. The kiss is electric, sparking against every part of me that’s been craving this. I pause, testing the waters.

But that pause only makes the hunger sharper. I gasp as he pulls me against his body, fusing our lips together. My hands slip up to his broad shoulders, fingers curling into him as I press back, deepening the kiss. His arms wrap around me, one hand sliding up into my hair, his fingers tangling there, forcing my back to arch while his tongue runs a caress over mine. His mouth is warm, insistent, and each kiss leaves me craving more. His touch is hot and possessive and desperate, branding itself into my skin.

I feel him shift, settling me closer against him, his erection pressing into me. I grind against it, and he growls against my lips. His hold is firm but careful as my hands slide down to trace the familiar line of his jaw, savoring the feeling of finally crossing that line. Romiro has always had a boyish humor to him, but now, here on my couch, with his lips devouring me, he’s all man. All hard edges, muscles, and sexy as sin. For a moment, it’s just us, wrapped up in the passion and thrill of the kiss, the world beyond my apartment fading away. All I can think about is him—his hands, his breath, his touch—igniting a desire I’ve denied for too long. I straddle him, and something hard presses against me, something that ignites a low desire that licks at my abdomen, begging for release. His hand slips under my scrubs, the rough calluses on his palms creates a delicious frictionthat makes a moan slip out.

“Oh, God,” I choke out.

“Not God, Red. Romiro.” His voice is low and husky, full of lust. It makes my entire body burn with desire, but the sound of glass shattering makes us both jump. I look down to see Mr. Marvin innocently sniffing the remnants of a shattered cognac glass. Romiros hand falls from my waist, and I quickly slide off his lap, cheeks flaming as reality crashes back in.

Romiro clicks his tongue, shaking his head at the cat as if nothing just happened between us. “Guess Mr. Marvin doesn’t appreciate a good drink left unattended.” He stands up, brushing off his hands, and bends down to pick up the larger shards. It’s as if the passion between us, the kiss, the way he’d held me—it all disappeared in an instant.

“Right… he’s got a knack for causing chaos at just the wrong time,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady, though my heart is still pounding. My cheeks burn with the flames of embarrassment and something more.

Romiro grabs a nearby towel and bends down to pick up the shards, not meeting my eyes. “Probably shouldn’t leave these glasses on the floor,” he says matter-of-factly, his tone light, as if he hadn’t just been touching me in a way I’d only ever imagined. His calm and collected expression is back, his focus entirely on the glass, as though we’re simply two friends cleaning up a small mess. He taps my feet with his forefinger, signaling me to lift them before he clears the floor beneath.

I feel a strange pang of disappointment, mixed with relief, and glance down at the cat, who has the nerve to purr in complete satisfaction. I let out a soft laugh, trying to match Romiros easy-going mood, and start gathering the smaller pieces of glass. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to make a habit of it.”

He glances up, a casual smile on his face, but that heat is still in his eyes as they roam over my face. “I should…I should head out.”

I bite my lip, a little stunned by how he’s effortlessly shifted gears, leaving the tension of moments ago hanging in the air like a forgotten dream. With Mr. Marvin now rubbing against Romiro’s legs, I force myself to go along with it, brushing off my nerves as best I can.

After a few silent beats, Romiro claps his hands and stands. “I’ll see you later, Allie. Bye, Mr. Marvin.” He winks, his smirk entirely back in place, as if the kiss, the pull, the way we’d crossed a line … had never happened at all. My apartment door shuts behind him, the sound echoing around me. All the heat I felt has now become an arctic chill. Fuck. What did I do?