I am suddenly very,veryaware of our position—of every place we meet. His arm across my back and the way that his chest presses into me until I’m bent over that arm just enough for our faces to meet on equal ground. His hand on my side, fingers spread wide across the span of my waist. Their heat penetrates my T-shirt, and I could swear that his fingerprints are branding my skin. His other hand, digging into my hair andpullinguntil my head tilts, putting me where he wants me.
My eyes fall closed as his nose coasts along my cheekbone—slowly, almost hesitant. His beard scratches my skin as his lips brush featherlight against my cheek. “Elodie,” he murmurs. “Can I—”
“Order up!”
Roman’s hands clench against me, and I open my eyes just in time to see him tip his head back, irritation hardening his jaw. He glares in the direction of the kitchen.
“Is that guy serious?” he growls. “Nowhe wants to have a voice?”
“Um,” I mutter. “Were you going to kiss me?”
He scowls. “Yeah, and that idiot ruined it.”
“Aha,” I nod. Not that him kissing me makes any sense, but… “ItoldRuby that friends kiss each other.”
His attention returns to me, brows drawn. “You kiss your friends?”
“Sure,” I answer, confused. “Isn’t that just what we were about to do?”
He looks, if possible, even more displeased. “You kiss your friends. Regularly. Casually. Your male friends.”
My nose scrunches. “Of course not!” It isn’t regular or casual, for one thing. For another, it’s notallof my male friends.
When I don’t say more, he orders, “Explain.”
“I don’t think I want to,” I sniff. “Not when you’re being bossy and judgmental.”
“I’m not judging you,” he retorts. “I’m figuring out what your normal is so that I know exactly what I need to do so that when I kiss you, you know that it isn’t friendly, regular, or casual.”
I blink.
Oh.
That is…
Oh.
Butterflies swarm in my stomach.
“Yeah,” he clips. “So answer my questions.”
“I’ve never kissed the same man more than once, and the once is always just…” I bite my lip. “To check.”
“Check what?” he demands.
I blush. Butterflies landing and taking flight as I wonder at how quickly bossy can turn from irritating toreally freaking hot. “If he’s my soulmate?”
He hums, considering. “And they haven’t been?”
“I’m still alone, so…”
He nods, a single, brisk tip of his head. “I’ll have to fix that, then.”
“Fix me being alone?” I squeak.
He nods. “And the soulmate problem. I think I can two-birds-one-stone it.”
I blink, certain the butterflies have taken over my cognitive functions, because Roman didn’t just say he wants tofixmy soulmate problem, did he? “I’m confused.”
