Chapter Eight

The rising dawn leaked from behind the blinds. Rome closed his eyes and fought with his decision. He wanted to wake her with a deep kiss and slide his cock into her wet heat. Wanted to take a shower with her and wash all that smooth skin, and then rub cocoa butter into every sore muscle. He wanted to stamp his possession on every part of her body, along with her soul.

She'd given him many gifts tonight. Her body. Her past. Her secrets. Most of the time, his heart beat steady. But in the pause between heartbeats, he realized he was falling madly in love with Sloane Keller.

Ridiculous. One night had changed him forever. But it didn’t matter. He knew how he felt. He just didn’t know how to convince her to give him a chance to make her feel the same.

Rome rose from the bed, donned his boxers, and sat in the red velvet chair beside the bed. His gut told him she’d fallen, too. Rome craved to push his advantage and bind her to him physically, a place she couldn’t fight him. But, in the hard light of morning, he realized most women would run. Fast. He'd pushed her limits to the edge. He needed to let her go.

For a while.

Her tournament was widely publicized and held Saturday night. He had one week to convince her to stay.

Her eyes opened.

He smiled, his gaze caressing every inch of her bare skin, where he’d stroked, tasted, and pleasured. An array of emotions flickered in her violet eyes. He tracked each and every wild thought, and knew the exact moment she decided on playing it cool. Her stubbornness was oddly satisfying, even though it was used against him.

“Pumpkin time, huh?” she threw out. She sat up and deliberately stretched, pretending to be relaxed. Her tense shoulders and jerky movements confirmed she was one hot mess.

“Thought that was midnight.”

“Midnight, dawn, same thing.”

“Guess so. It was a hell of a night, though.”

“Yep. I better get going. Lots to do today.”

He steepled his fingers together, still watching her. She ducked under the sheet, suddenly shy, and grabbed for the robe draped over the chair. Rome didn’t take his gaze from her as she struggled into the fabric, then grabbed her clothes and turned toward the bathroom. She hesitated. Yep, she wanted out fast, but didn’t know the best way to make her exit.

“You gonna take a shower?” he asked.

“No. I need to get back to my room. Lots to do.”

“So you said.”

She glared. Rome hooked his foot over his ankle.

Temper lit her eyes but she kept her cool. “Are you just going to sit there?” she demanded.

“I’m going to watch you get dressed.”

She let out a gasp. He watched her nipples grow hard. She tossed her hair like a pissy filly. “No, you’re not. The night is over and so are the terms of the bet. It was a delightful evening but time to get back to reality. I hope you understand.”

With that speech, she stamped into the bathroom. Rome didn’t move. A few minutes later, she came back out, dressed in her clothes from last night and looking like a woman who’d been well fucked last night.

And she had.

Sloane marched past him, grabbed her purse, and pivoted on her heel. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

“Sloane?”

“Yes?”

He caught her scent, musky with arousal, spicy like cinnamon. Rome deliberately spoke slow, emphasizing each of his words in a calm, commanding voice.

“You will be punished for disobeying me again. This hasn’t ended just because dawn came. In fact, this thing between us has barely begun.”

She jerked back, her hands grasping for the door. “You—you can’t talk to me like that anymore! This thing is over!”

She left, slamming the door behind her.

Rome stayed in the chair for a while, thinking over his options.

When he finally got up to leave, he was smiling.