Page 72 of From Rome, With Hate

“I can’t remember. What did we do for food when we used to stay here?” she asks, oblivious to my obsession.

Her.

I twist my mouth in thought, then grin. “I don’t remember eating anything other than you.”

Her blue eyes pop open, and her mouth drops into a perfect ‘O’.

“Rome Sebastian!” Her hand lands against my chest in a playful shove.

Fuck, what is this feeling? It’s familiar. I don’t want it to end.

“I’m kidding, Lark.” Laughter erupts from my chest, and my cheeks grow sore. I don’t let her push me too far, making sure I stay close. “We used to steal whatever prepared food our chef’s had in our refrigerators back home, remember?”

“Oh. Right. My dad used to get so angry when I’d steal his lunches. I felt guilty because he never caught on it was me. He always blamed his staff.”

The memory is evident on her face. I’m standing inches away, resisting the urge to kiss her again, but I don’t know where we stand after everything. We still haven’t talked about what happened at shooting practice, or after. Instead, we’re rambling on about fucking macaroni and cheese and what we used to eat ten years ago.

I used to open up to Julianna easily. I used to tell her all about my family struggles and how I felt tied to them in ways Inever thought I’d break free from, and she did the same. At some point our bond began to deteriorate. Our trust in one another was tested, and it didn’t take long for our love to crash and burn. We’ve spent the last ten years wandering aimlessly through the destruction left in its wake.

Julianna’s shoulders stiffen as she stares blankly at the simmering water, but I can’t look away from her.

“Lark.” Her nickname falls softly from my mouth.

She looks up at me through her long, dark lashes. I commit this sight of her to memory, like every other one I’ve collected throughout the years.

Tipping her chin higher, her pretty mouth comes into view. I lift my hand and slowly drag my thumb across her pink lip. She shivers, inhaling a shaky breath as her eyes search my face.

“Kiss me,” she states, her hypnotized gaze dropping to my mouth.

I slide my hand along the curve of her jaw, sinking my fingers into her hair behind her ear. She mewls, and I melt. So much beauty mixed with so much pain. I want to take it away, even though I know I’m the cause of it. I grip the back of her head and crash my mouth to hers. The sweet taste if her hits my tongue the second I pry her lips open and she sinks into me, turning her body away from the stove. She curls her fingertips into my stomach, digging her nails into my abs. My cock hardens as I grip her waist, pulling her to me. Keeping my hold on her, I force her backward and lift her up before setting her down on the counter beside the stove.

She wraps her legs around me, hooking her ankles around my back. I grind against her sweet pussy. It causes her to smile against my mouth. Her hand dips into the waistband of my sweats, heading straight for my cock. She grips my length, forcing my pants down with her other, determined to set it free.

I bite down on my lip, stifling a groan.

“Fuck me,” she pants. “Fuck me, please.”

“So eager.” I give her a devilish grin. “You aren’t worn out from earlier?”

“Well, no.” She runs her thumb over my tip, sweeping the bead of precum. “It’s been ten years since you’ve fucked me, and now that you have, I’m not ready for you to stop at just the once. The past eleven days since the bridge have been torture enough.”

“I knew you missed me,” I tease, sliding my hand over her perky tit and rolling my thumb over her pebbled nipple.

She hums in agreement, biting down on her lip to stifle her moan. I’m dying to hear her sing again.

Unhooking her ankles, she opens her legs wider for me.

She grabs my hand and guides it into the waistband of her shorts and pulls down until my hand reaches her already soaking-wet pussy.

“Yes, like that,” she breathes against me, clutching my shoulders.

I start working her, burying my nose into her hair. I want to keep this going, I do, but something inside me is dismantling after years of hating Julianna, loving her, then hating her again. It’s a roller coaster ride I’ve never been quite sure I want to stop, because without the hate, I never would have loved. I want this with Julianna. I want to feel the high of sinking into her, working and bending her body to my will.

But it feels as if there’s something still standing between us, like a giant elephant in the room—one we’ve become experts at ignoring. I try to be present and in the moment, focusing on my hand touching and my lips tasting her skin, but another intrusive thought creeps into my mind, forcing me to slow things down.

“Lark, wait.” I sigh, pulling back.

“W-What?” she pants, sliding her hands across my shoulders and around the back of my neck. She tries to pull me in for another kiss, but I jerk back.