#1 Rival

by Gephart, T

  “Perhaps try calling his cell phone.” The doorman gave me an unhelpful grin. “Or a family member.”

  His suggestion and his condescending smile just made things worse, compounded by the fact he had seen me numerous times on our way to Roman’s apartment.

  “Let’s just go, Lo.” Morgan tugged on my arm. “We’ll try calling, thanks.” She nodded to the doorman, probably worried he was going to call the cops.

  I left under protest but not before giving the doorman the death stare. Oh, I knew he was only doing his job, but I was still not happy.

  My reluctance to call Roman was over by the time we’d returned to Morgan’s car. I just needed to hear he was okay, and then hang up so I could go back to being mad at him again.

  The phone diverted straight to voicemail.

  “I’m going to try him again when we get to the apartment.” Hoping the reason his phone didn’t ring was because he was on another call. “And if he still doesn’t answer, I’m going to call his sister-in-law.”

  Using a client’s phone number for unofficial business wasn’t something I’d ever done before, but I would do what I had to do.

  Morgan parked the car and we made our way to our front door, a wrapped box sitting in front of it.

  “What is it?” Morgan asked as I dropped to my knees.

  “I don’t know.”

  I opened it and found a bottle of Macallan 18-year-old scotch with a note taped to the neck.

  You hate flowers so I had to get creative.

  I’m sorry.

  Roman x

  PS. We’re not done.

  PPS. Don’t take it out on the scotch, it’s not his fault I was an asshole.

  My pulse quickened as I rolled the bottle in my hand, remembering the last few times we’d shared a drink. He’d never once asked me if I’d preferred a cocktail or some other “girlie” option like most men did. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed up until now.

  And it was true I hated flowers. They aggravated my sinuses and made me sneeze, but it wasn’t the sort of thing we’d ever discussed. The one time I’d received flowers at work I’d discreetly given them to Stephanie, Daniel’s secretary, but that had happened months ago.

  “Well, I guess we can safely assume he isn’t in any danger.” Morgan read over my shoulder as she unlocked the door. “Nice touch with the scotch, flowers always made you sneeze.”

  As I clutched the bottle to my chest, I tried to call him, but again I was diverted back to voicemail.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” I said out loud assuming it was for Morgan’s benefit but it had really been for mine.

  So he’d noticed I preferred single malts rather than sangrias. Or that flowers weren’t really my thing. That didn’t mean I’d just forgive him.

  Morgan shrugged, her grin hinting otherwise. “Nope, doesn’t change anything.”

  I didn’t try calling again, deciding it was probably better to wait until tomorrow to talk to him. Then I’d hopefully have a clearer idea in my head of what I wanted to say to him.

  Except the next day I arrived at work, and his office was still empty.

  “Roman is still gone?” I asked Stephanie who happened to be walking past, my hand hesitating on my door.

  She smiled, oblivious to how fast my pulse was racing. “Yeah, he’s taken another personal day.”

  Great. Another personal day.

  As I pushed open the door to my office, I almost lost my breath.

  On the wall we shared that separated our offices, a huge whiteboard had been mounted, covered in his handwriting with a stack of markers sitting on my desk. There was a note taped on top.

  You always preferred to see the problem laid out in front of you.

  I’ve listed every reason you could possibly have for never speaking to me again, starting with me being a massive prick. I’d love to tell you these reasons are no longer valid, but we both know I’m a jerk and will probably continue to be.

  What I can promise is that if you give me another chance, I’ll never hurt you again.

  I’m sorry.

  Roman x

  PS. The marker squeaked over every word.

  PPS. I only pretended to hate it so much because it made you smile, and your smile was the highlight of my day.

  PPPS. We’re still not done.

  The surface of the whiteboard was covered with words and sentences, like Roman’s personality had bled all over it. Some of them were funny like:

  I wear pretentious suits.

  While others were incredibly endearing.

  When I was eight I replaced the sugar with the salt and then made Nick take the blame for it.

  And then there were more sobering ones.

  I’m a terrible boyfriend.

  I lose my temper too easily when it comes to the people I care about.

  I get jealous.

  I say things even if I don’t believe them when I feel backed into a corner. Even if deep down I know there is no way it could be the truth, it feels easier than being vulnerable.

  Until finally I saw at the very bottom.

  I hurt you.

  My eyes started to water as I touched the whiteboard, the words smudging under my palm.

  I reached into my handbag and tried to call him but once again was diverted to voicemail. The sound of his recorded message was a small comfort as I wiped away all his faults from the surface of the board.

  I didn’t need to see them anymore, and I didn’t want anyone else to either.

  My butt sunk into my chair as I looked at the blank wall, and I knew I couldn’t sit there any longer. Daniel was probably going to lose his damn mind, but I didn’t care as I walked to his office and knocked on the door.

  “Come in.” He waved, his eyes glued to his computer screen. “What do you need?”

  I cleared my throat, hoping my voice did sound like I was about to cry. “I need to take a personal day.”

  His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as they focused on me. “It’s Friday, Lauren, and we’re already one down.”

  “I know.” I nodded, appreciating that I was asking a lot. “And if this wasn’t important, I wouldn’t be asking. I’ll make up the time, I promise, but I need to go.”

  His nostrils faired in annoyance as he leaned back in his chair. “Fine, go.” He waved his hand in the air. “But on Monday I better have both of my associates or there is going to be hell to pay.”

  “We’ll be here,” I promised as I backed away toward the door. “Thank you.”

  I grabbed my things and left the office, my heart in my throat as I got to my car and started to drive.

  I wasn’t sure where I’d find Roman, but figured I’d start at his apartment.

  ROMAN’S EVIL DOORMAN WAS STILL not my biggest fan.

  “Ma’am. I’ve told you he’s not in.” He lowered the phone, his displeasure of dealing with me evident after having buzzed Roman’s apartment three times and me insisting he try again.

  “Well, has he been home in the last two days?” I asked, giving him judgy eyes right back.

  His smile tightened. “Unfortunately, I can’t give out the personal information of our residents. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  “Whatever.” I slapped the desk like a child throwing a tantrum. Meanwhile, I was calculating the probability of being able to slip past him and make it to the elevator before he called security. My heels were a problem for sure, as was the detainment and possible arrest that was sure to follow.

  Deciding a day in lockup wouldn’t help my cause, I left Roman’s apartment and headed back to mine. I assumed he had some kind of plan, so while it wasn’t in my nature to wait, it was probably going to be him who made the next move.

  There was a box sitting in front of my door when I got there, and beside it was Roman, who looked clearly surprised to see me.

  His hair was mussed, probably from running his fingers through it too many times, and there was a smattering of stubble across his jaw.
He was also without his suit, instead wearing jeans and a T-shirt with no jacket.

  “I thought you would be at work?” he said when I didn’t speak, still frozen in place, his clear blue eyes widening as I looked at him.

  “Personal day.” The word wheezed out of me as my heart thumped. I took a step closer, desperately wanting to touch him but stopping myself all the same. “What’s in the box?”

  He leaned against the wall, his eyes dipping down to it. “Why don’t I leave and you can open it.”

  I took another step. “I don’t want that.”

  “The box?”

  “You to leave.”

  His eyes scanned mine, but he stayed where he was. “Can we go inside and talk?”

  “No,” I answered quickly, knowing the minute I got him alone inside my apartment we would be doing something other than talking. And as much as I wanted to kiss him, hold him and touch him, there were things I needed to know first. “Not inside, but we can talk.”

  He nodded, blowing out a slow breath. “That’s fair, Lauren—”

  “Where have you been?” I didn’t let him finish. “Why haven’t you been answering you phone? And why did you see Carla on Monday? Did you want me to see her, is that why you told her to meet you at your office? And while we’re talking about women you used to screw, why didn’t you tell me about Anita Anderson?” I ran out of breath, but I still had questions.

  “I’ve slept at home but spent the last few days on my bike.” He answered the first question before I got to add any more. “It helps me think, and there’s less chance of me doing something stupid like camping out on your doorstep like a stalker.”

  I tried not to smile. “I never knew you had stalking tendencies.”

  His mouth curled into a lopsided grin. “It was on the board, listed under jealous son of a bitch and moronic asshole.”

  “Ahhh, I must have missed it.”

  “And my phone has been off because I knew you needed time, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone unless it was you.” He pulled it out of his back pocket, the screen completely black. “I checked my messages a couple of times a day but you never left me any.”

  I swallowed. “Every time I tried to, I couldn’t think of what to say.”

  “You didn’t have to say anything.” He shook his head as he took a breath. “You could have called me cocksucker, and I’d have called you right back.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” I bit my bottom lip, wondering how he could make me smile at a time like this.

  “There’s so much I should have told you, Lauren.” He shook his head, blowing out a breath. “With Anita—I was stupid and didn’t know she wanted a relationship. And not telling you we had a history was a dick move. That was both insensitive of me and lacked professional courtesy. But you already thought I was a whore, and I didn’t want to give you more just cause, even if it was accurate. I guess I just assumed she or Chase would string you along, wasting your time like they did everyone else. Daniel knows about our history, but because Chase was originally Carter’s client, it wasn’t up to Daniel to cut him loose.”

  I’ll admit it hadn’t been a pleasure to hear about Roman’s past, but I wasn’t angry about it either. I couldn’t judge him for something he did when he didn’t even know me. “I would have understood.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “But I still wasn’t proud of it.”

  I nodded silently, knowing it’s not something I would want someone I worked with knowing.

  “Carla was at the office on Monday because I was too drunk to see her on Sunday when I called her,” he continued, answering my earlier barrage of questions. “And I’d asked her to meet me late hoping you would have already left for the day. I didn’t want her to come to my house. And no, it wasn’t to fuck her, even though I assume that is what you probably thought. I needed to tell her I was done, and I wanted give her the respect of saying it to her face.”

  “But on Monday we were still broken up, and you still assumed—”

  “On Monday I had spent the weekend mourning the loss of the only woman I’d ever loved.” He looked me right in the eyes, making my heart stop. “It didn’t matter you were gone, it only mattered you existed at all. So whatever happens now, with you and me, I know I can’t go back to that. To her, to that lifestyle—I don’t want it.”

  “Roman.” The lump in my throat made it hard to speak and I couldn’t finish.

  I wasn’t sure if he kissed me first or I kissed him, but as my hands grabbed at his T-shirt, my only thought was why hadn’t we done this inside.

  “Lauren.”

  He said my name again and again, like he was making up for all the times he didn’t say it. His lips against my skin as they moved from my mouth to my neck.

  There was more of the conversation we needed to have, and the kiss didn’t change what happened on the weekend, but as our mouths connected, it felt so right.

  “Inside,” I moaned between breaths, my hands pulling themselves away from him long enough to get my keys and open the door. “We need to be inside.”

  He took over, pulling me inside and shutting the door behind us, pressing his body against mine. “I want you so fucking much.”

  Nothing mattered.

  Not anything he’d said or done, not how bad an idea it was to have sex when so much was left unresolved. I didn’t care about any of it. I wanted him just as much as he wanted me and everything else would have to wait.

  As weird as it sounded, I didn’t want him sweet or tender, I wanted him raw and demanding like I knew he was. The anger and the emotion of the weekend spilled into a frenzy of heated lust I never knew I had.

  “Get naked,” I demanded, clawing at his T-shirt as I pulled it over his head. “I want to feel you.”

  I needed his skin, the contact of it against mine so I knew it was real. He complied, continuing to kiss me as his hands got busy blindly undressing himself in a heated rush.

  Shoes, sock, pants—all discarded in a messy pile beside the door. And with only his boxer briefs left, he turned his attention to me.

  “Your turn.” His fingers moved agilely from unzipping my skirt to unbuttoning my blouse, each garment tossed aside to join his on the floor.

  He didn’t stop, snapping off my bra and replacing it with his mouth, lavishing my breasts with his greedy tongue.

  My hand slid between us, feeling his hard length housed in the cotton. “Roman, please.”

  His arms scooped me up, carrying me to my living room, my back hitting the cushions of the couch. I watched as he ripped off his boxer briefs, standing in front of me naked as he lowered to his knees.

  I loved feeling his hands and his tongue on me, but right then it wasn’t what I wanted.

  “Inside of me.” I yanked at his arm. “You can do whatever you want later, but now I need you inside of me.”

  He chuckled, pulling off my underwear roughly and then spreading my knees apart. “Then that is exactly what you’re going to get.”

  His body covered me, the weight of it pinning me to the couch as he kissed me. His hard cock pressed against my clit, hitting me in just the right spot to make me moan as he dominated my mouth.

  My fingers gripped onto his broad shoulders, the muscles flexing underneath my touch as he grinded against me. The sensation made me so wet and hot, my back arched off the cushion.

  “Fuck me, Roman,” I begged, rocking my hips against his. “I need more.”

  With his lips at my throat he thrust into me hard, making me first gasp and then moan. I loved it, the feeling of him filling me as he pushed in again.

  “God, you’re so fucking sexy.” His forehead pressed against mine. “Nothing has ever felt this good.” A soft kiss landed on my nose before his mouth moved to mine, the pull of his lips growing more urgent as my fingernails dug into his back.

  No matter how close he got, it just didn’t seem enough. “More.” The need vibrated through me as I gasped against his skin.

  A growl
tore from his throat, my urging, a challenge he silently accepted. A sly grin played on his lips as our eyes connected, thrusting into me a couple of times before pulling his cock all the way out.

  His hands gripped my waist, taking me with him as we lifted off the couch. “On your knees, Harper,” he barked in my ear as he lowered me onto the carpet. “And I will give you more.”

  My legs felt like jelly as I scrambled onto all fours. He pushed my knees apart, a hand sliding down between us as I turned to look over my shoulder. His fingers played with my clit as his cock once again filled me, my hips pushing against him as he went deeper.

  “Yes.” It spilled from my lips as he anchored himself with one hand on my hip while the other twisted against my center.

  Each swing of his hips dragged his thick length out of me before pushing it back inside, faster and more intense with each thrust.

  He moved his fingers from my clit to my breast as he leaned against me and asked, “Is this what you wanted?”

  God, it felt good. Everywhere he touched and kissed made my skin tingle with excitement.

  “Yes, it’s what I wanted,” I groaned, my neck straining to look at him. “Although I remember this being better, in my office on my desk.”

  He laughed, pushing in harder. “You think so? Then let me prove you wrong.”

  My legs gave out from under me as he pulled out in a rush, his hands finding their way back around my waist as he flipped me onto my back and lifted my legs onto his shoulders.

  “Look at me.” He grunted as he filled me with one hard stroke. “Keep your eyes on me and tell me this isn’t better.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I gasped, every single cell primed to explode.

  He chuckled, not slowing his pace. “Say my name, Lauren. It’s not Jesus Christ who is fucking you.”