“I’m glad you made it,” he said, staring me right in the eyes before dropping his gaze to my lips like he wanted to kiss me. For a brief moment, I thought it was for show, but the flash of irritation in his eyes when Carter cleared his throat gave the impression he’d forgotten Carter was even there.
“Carter… what’s up, man?” I watched as the two men greeted each other with that hand-slapping followed by a shoulder bump thing men do.
“Same old. S’up with you?” Carter asked, smirking as his eyes traveled to Roman’s left hand, which was still planted firmly on my back.
Roman simply shrugged, his expression bored — body language that from where I was sitting clearly said “Mind your damn business, bruh.”. It was interesting dynamic, really. I didn’t get the impression they disliked each other, but I had a strong hunch that Roman was not fond of the idea of Carter being around me.
Carter must have shared that perception, because he grabbed his cup, sliding off of his stool. “I’m gonna get out of here before this coffee gets any colder. Simone… it was good seeing you again. Rome… I’ll holla at you later, man.”
When he was gone, Roman occupied his empty seat, and I couldn’t help teasing him as he sat down.
“Jealous much?” I asked, taking a bite from my nearly-forgotten muffin.
Roman chuckled, shaking his head. “Is it that obvious?”
I lifted an eyebrow at him, then took another big bite, followed by a sip of coffee. “Definitely. I’m guessing you’re not a Carter fan?”
“Not when he’s grinning in your face. You know how a kid can get a cookie or something, and if you even look like you might wanna think about maybe possibly asking for a piece, they go in full on mine mode? Like… back up off my cookie, bruh. That’s me. You’re the cookie.”
I threw my head, breaking into a fit of laughter. “Are you serious Roman?”
“Hell yeah, I’m serious. I’m stingy, Simone. When I’m interested in someone, it irritates the shit out of me for anybody else to display an interest before I’ve had a chance to… lock things down, so to say.” He shrugged, running his tongue over his lips as he looked at me, waiting for a response.
“Wow.” Shaking my head, I took another long sip from my coffee as I considered my next words. “You’re really gonna throw the big joker like that, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
I sucked my teeth. “Negro, please. Don’t act like you don’t know telling a woman you’re stingy about her isn’t a panty dropper.”
“What?” His eyes grew wide. “That wasn’t my intent at all, I was being real,” he said, laughing. “But seriously, I’ve known Carter for a long time. He’s cool people.”
“Yeah, I got that feeling from him. He helped me with my gate this morning.”
One corner of Roman’s mouth turned up. “Yeah, I bet he did. Slick bastard.”
“Roman! You pulled the gate down for me the first night we met!” I lifted my cup to take the last sip of my coffee.
“Exactly. He’s trying to do the same thing I was trying to do.”
I nearly choked on my drink, breaking into a coughing fit as I giggled. “And what, pray tell, is that?“
“To get in your space, make a good first impression. Get your attention long enough to do something that would keep your attention.”
“Mm. And you think you’ve done that?”
He smiled, trailing a finger along the outside seam of my jeans. “Well… you’re here, aren’t you?”
Lifting an eyebrow, I opened my mouth to make a sarcastic comeback, but couldn’t find the words. He was right. I was there, and he definitely had my attention, and… crap. That was scary. My mind drifted back to my little epiphany the night before, and that brought forth the possibility that Roman could be the love of my life. But that was crazy. Like, legitimately crazy, to be thinking long term with someone I’d only known three days.
Brakes, Simone. Pump ‘em.
“Um… I should probably be getting back to the shop. I’ve been gone well over an hour, and I have a long to-do list to prepare for the week. So… yeah, I’m gonna head out.”
His shoulders drooped a little, but Roman still pulled up a smile for me. “Duty calls,” he said, standing to offer me unnecessary help from my own stool. “I’m gonna see you here tonight though, right?”
“Tonight?” I chuckled a little as I shook my head. “I don’t know, that’s gonna make it three nights in row that I’ve been here.”
He shrugged. “Me too. What’s your point?”
“You know what my point is. I don’t wanna give you the wrong impression.”
“What impression is that?”
“That I’m… desperate.”
He dismissed that. “I don’t think that about you at all,” he said. “And besides… it’s Open Mic night. You have to come.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “I have to come? Why? Are you gonna get up and do some spoken word you wrote for me or something?”
“Do I look like a spoken kinda dude?”
Tilting my head to the side, I gave him a quick once-over. “Kinda. Yeah, actually you do.”
“Simone, get the hell out of here.” Roman laughed, bending to place another kiss on my forehead, sending a fresh barrage of tingles over my skin. “I’ll see you tonight?”
He smiled again, bringing those mesmerizing dimples in to break down my resistance. “Okay,” I said, playfully rolling my eyes. “What time?”
“Nine.”
“Alright. If I can get all of my stuff at work done in time to go home and get ready… I’ll be there.” With a last wave and a smile, I turned and left, forcing myself not to look back.
— & —
Urban Grind was back to the dark, smoky vibe that felt familiar to me when I returned that night. I didn’t see Roman, but I did spot Vivienne in the crowd, at a table near the front of the stage. We made eye contact, and she waved me over, inviting me to join her little crew of friends, who were all frequent visitors at UG. They welcomed me warmly, so it was easy to relax and get comfortable as the host, a pretty Latina wearing a black Urban Grind tee shirt who introduced herself as Camilla, took to the stage. I sent Roman a text to let him know where I was, then turned my attention to the show.
The talent was actually really good, and I enjoyed myself even though I was beginning to grow annoyed that Roman wasn’t texting me back after he’d basically insisted I come. I sat through a few comedians, a wonderful spoken word artist, a band, and several singers, all with no word from Roman.
“Okay people,” Camilla said, grabbing the mic as the previous performer left the stage. “I know it’s getting late, and we’re grown people with jobs, but I have a very special treat for you tonight.”
Vivienne grabbed my arm, sucking in a breath, and I saw a similar reaction, even a few gasps from several other places in the semi-darkened crowd. “Girl, if she says what I think she’s about to say.”
“Yep, yep, I see the ladies already know what I’m talking about.” Camilla grinned into the crowd, an excited twinkle in her eyes. “Don’t be mad at the ladies’ reactions, fellas, use this to your advantage tonight. We only get the privilege of seeing them perform a few times a year, but this next group of musicians is well known for making the women — and a few men — in the crowd feel um… some type of way. They insist they aren’t a band, so they don’t have a name, but lets give it up for Davis Copeland, Kareem Ellis, and Urban Grind’s very own Roman Taylor.”
Camilla pumped her arms, encouraging catcalls and applause from the crowd as the men took the stage. I recognized Davis as Roman’s friend from the store, but the Kareem guy was unfamiliar. Then, I spotted Roman, looking like hot sex on a frozen tundra, wearing jeans slung low on his hips, and a white Polo that molded to his chest and arms like it was custom made for him. All three men carried acoustic guitars, and I watched as the stage hands quickly finished setting up stools and mics for all three.
Roman sat down in the middl
e, eyes slightly narrowed as he scanned the crowd. When his eyes landed on me, his lips perked up in a little smile, then he glanced to his left and right at his band mates. Both men nodded, and as if controlled by a switch, the large room went quiet, and they began to play.
My eyes went wide as I recognized the opening chords of one of my favorite songs, from back when they made real R&B. I Wanna Know had solidified me forever as a major fan of Joe. I was only fifteen years old when it came out, but I sat in my room playing it over and over on my Walkman, pretending I had a man singing directly to me.
Only now, fourteen years had passed, and I didn’t have to pretend. Roman looked me right in the eyes as he began singing the first verse, in a sexy, soulful tone that set off a pulsing beat between my thighs. I felt sure I was going to burst into flames under the intensity of his gaze as he crooned lyrics about a desire to emulate whatever turned me on, and a yearning to keep a smile on my face. When he finally looked away to engage with the rest of the crowd, it felt like being released from a trance, and I snatched my glass from the table to take a long sip of water.
Roman and the rest of the guys spent a little time flirting and playing with the women in the audience as they sang, but inevitably, his attention returned to me. He locked me under that magnetic gaze again, singing words of assurance that he would take good care of me if I decided to share my love. Obviously I didn’t think it was an actual declaration of love, but still… the sentiment behind it? Whew. It sent my crush skyrocketing.
When the song was over, I took advantage of the crowd’s enthusiastic standing ovation, using it as cover to sneak away. I sat on a padded bench in the clean, chicly decorated bathroom, trying to give myself a moment to really breathe, an ability that seemed to get stripped away in Roman’s presence. I really didn’t want to be that girl, who was all about a guy she barely knew, but… damned if I didn’t feel a few of Jilly’s riffs and runs coming on.
Brakes, Simone. Brakes, Brakes, Brakes. They’re there for a reason, use them.
Okay.
I was getting the hell out of here. Whenever I was feeling a little stupid, sleep was usually the key to clarity, and it was late anyway. I need to go.
From the hall that led to the bathrooms, I could still hear the loud murmur of people exchanging well-wishes and goodbyes as the crowd thinned out. I took my time heading for the door, knowing there was probably a minor traffic jam of people. I was about to turn the corner into the main area of the shop when Roman came from the opposite direction, disappointment marring his handsome face as he looked down at his phone.
“Um.. hey,” I said, stopping in front of him.
He glanced at me, then immediately perked up, obviously buoyed by my presence. “Hey yourself. I was looking for you when we got off stage. I tried to call, but…”
“It’s on silent,” I explained, pointing to my bag, which held my cell. “Didn’t want to be that chick in the crowd.”
Roman gave a nod of understanding. “The performers appreciate it. Nothing worse than an annoying ring tone in the middle of a set.”
I laughed. “Exactly. Um… you sounded… amazing up there. I never would have guessed that about you. And you played it really cool this morning when I asked if you were performing.”
“You didn’t ask if I was performing, you asked if I was doing spoken word, specifically.”
“Ah… Touché.”
Slipping his phone into his pocket, Roman stepped forward, bringing us close enough that we were almost touching. The proximity forced me to stare upwards if I wanted to look at him, leaving me feeling vulnerable… and a little turned on.
That’s a lie.
A lot turned on.
“So where you going? You’re not leaving are you?”
“Ummm, yeah. The night is over, right?”
Roman groaned, then unexpectedly slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. “I haven’t even gotten a chance to talk to you tonight. Come sit in my office with me. Can I have an hour, just you and me?”
I took a deep inhale of the blended aromas of coffee, spice, and clean laundry, a scent I now considered very uniquely Roman. I played it off as a contemplative sigh, then looked up to meet his eyes. “Yeah. I can spare an hour, since I’m not opening the shop myself tomorrow.”
He cupped my head, placing a kiss on my forehead before releasing me to grab my hand and lead me to his office. Inside, I relaxed on the micro suede sofa as he took his guitar from the strapped position across his shoulders and placed it on the coffee table. I watched, transfixed, as he pulled his shirt over his head, giving me a briefly unobscured view of nicely defined — but not prominent— abs, and an enticingly sexy trail of hair leading down to the waistline of his boxers before he replaced it with an Urban Grind tee. He grinned when he caught me staring.
“What’s up with the peep show?” I asked, before he could tease me.
“No peep show intended, I just feel anxious when I’m wearing white. Like somebody is about to burst around a corner at any moment eating ribs and dripping sauce. But… I see where your mind is.”
“Whatever, Roman.” His gaze was locked on me, and suddenly I felt nervous and exposed. I reached for his guitar in front of me, pulling it into my lap. “This is beautiful,” I said, running my fingers over the polished surface of the golden brown maple wood. When I glanced up, his eyes were still on me, so I grinned, then lifted my fingers to the strings.
Roman raised his eyebrows skeptically, but that uncertainty was quickly replaced with respect as I began to play— another one of the billion hobbies I’d picked up to escape my parents’ constant arguing and craziness at home.
I didn’t have a particular song in mind at first, but as he took the necessary couple of steps to sit beside me on the couch, words came into focus. I swallowed hard as I adjusted the chords accordingly, then avoided his eyes as I began to sing Say Yes, by Floetry. He was completely still beside me as I sang the first verse, whose words were a not-so-subtle acknowledgement of being down for… whatever, and wondering if he was too.
My fingers nearly slipped off of the strings in shock when he joined me in the chorus, harmonizing a demand to embrace what I was feeling, and allow him to undress me. He reached up, tucking my hair behind my ear and letting his fingers linger there, then drift down to the flimsy straps of my summer dress. My throat went dry so fast I barely made it through the next notes. I felt dizzy and hot, scarcely lucid enough to keep singing as I finished the chorus with suddenly relatable lyrics of being left speechless by this man.
As I went into the second verse, his lips replaced his fingers, brushing soft kisses over my exposed collarbone. I actually whimpered a little as he pulled the guitar from my hands, placing it on the table. Roman kissed his way up to my neck, draping my legs across his lap as he made it up to my earlobe. He suckled the tender flesh into his mouth, and my eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head. When our lips finally met, I moaned in satisfaction, aroused by the heat from his hands carrying through the thin fabric of my dress as he gripped my waist.
He tugged me forward until I complied, not caring that my dress was bunched high on my thighs as I straddled his lap. Roman stared me right in the eyes as he slid his hands up my thighs to cup my butt, squeezed, then pulled me closer. He kept going until our hips were touching, and my panties were pressed right against the obvious bulge between his legs.
“Roman…,” I whispered, reluctant to interrupt the sensation of his lips against my skin as he kissed the exposed area between my breasts. “We’re supposed to be talking.”
“We are,” he mumbled into my chin. “This,” — his fingers found their way between my thighs, sliding over the damp, silky material of my panties— “might be the most prolific conversation I’ve ever had.”
I giggled as I covered his hand with mine, torn between pulling him away or guiding his fingers deeper, past the flimsy fabric barrier. “Stop playing,” I said, opting to cool things off a little. “We�
�re not about to do… this in your office.”
Roman groaned as he moved his hands back to safer ground on the outside of my thighs. “I got a little carried away, huh? You know it’s your fault though, right?”
“Huh? What did I do?”
“Simone, please,” he scoffed. “Looking like this, with that voice, singing that little seductive song. You’re like… through the roof sexy.”
I sucked my teeth. “Me? Let’s talk about you, Mr. Classic R&B, having half the women in the audience ready to give you their panties.” Roman blushed, looking down as his thumbs absently stroked my bare thighs. “Tell me something,” I said, lifting his chin so I could ask the question that had been burning in my mind for most of the night.
“Wassup?”
As I ran my fingers along the contours of his ears, I caught the sharp intake of breath letting me know he liked that. I filed it away in my memory, then let one hand drift down to trace the lines of his goatee. “Who picked that song tonight?”
He tensed, and the muscles in his neck twitched as he swallowed. “Davis.”
A slow smile spread across my face. “Mmhmm. Why are you gonna sit here and lie to my face?”
“‘Cause I don’t wanna seem like a punk,” he replied, laughing.
I gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. “It doesn’t make you seem like a punk. As a matter of fact, it was… how did you put it? Through the roof sexy.” I ran my thumbs along his thick eyebrows, then lowered my mouth to his again, biting gently on his bottom lip before slipping my tongue inside. I felt conflicted, battling duel feelings of arousal and guilt that I was acting so shamelessly with a man I barely knew. But, even without the benefit of invested time, I felt indescribably tethered to Roman. Something about him lit a flame in me, and I had an inexplicable desire to see how hot it could burn.
A Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Serendipitous Love Book 1) Page 5