Page 15 of Possessed By Roman

He turns the bacon in the pan before answering. “Not yet.”

My shoulders fall. “Nothing?”

“It’s still early.”

I know that. I can’t stop my mind from imagining the worst. I grip the edge of the counter hard. Roman watches me, almost like he can see the direction my thoughts are taking.

The tone of his voice isn’t harsh, but it is firm enough to stop me. “Don’t start imagining the worst when we don’t know anything yet.”

I swallow. “That’s easier said than done.”

“I know. But right now, we’re going to eat.”

I blink. “Seriously? My father is missing.”

“And you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

I stare at him. Roman doesn’t react, he returns his attention to the pan. “Sit.”

There it is again. That voice. Low, deep, and commanding. My body reacts physically and mentally before my brain can remind me that I am a grown woman capable of deciding where the hell I sit. I immediately hate myself for it.

I pull out one of the stools. Roman’s mouth twitches.

I eye him. “You enjoy that, don’t you?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Ordering people around.”

“Maybe.”

I narrow my eyes and he smiles. Just enough to make his face soften. And just enough to send another ridiculous flutter through my stomach.

I look away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” The confidence in his voice makes me glance back at him.

My phone chimes from the counter. I glance toward it but ignore the notification. It’s the third message I’ve gotten since coming into the kitchen.

Roman is already looking at me. For one second, the kitchen becomes quiet. The air shifts and sizzles. I remember his mouth on mine. Roman’s gaze drops briefly to my lips. Then he turns away.

“Do you know how to crack eggs?”

The sudden change catches me off guard. “Yes.”

“Good. Come help.”

I stand and move around the counter. Our fingers brush when he hands me a bowl. The touch is barely there. Still, a strange current moves through me. I pretend I don’t notice. Roman clearly does the same. The next several minutes pass with us preparing breakfast together.

I crack the eggs while Roman makes coffee. And every few seconds, I become aware of him standing beside me. He moves around the kitchen with the same quiet confidence he seems to carry everywhere. Taking up space without trying to.

And I find myself watching the way his muscles flex whenever he reaches for something. This is becoming a serious problem.

“So,” I say, because silence is beginning to feel dangerous.

“So?”

“You were in the military.”