My Dark Romeo: Chapter 60

I stirred to life in the darkened room, stretching in my damp sheets.

White stars danced across my vision as reality seeped in. Romeo lay beside me, his muscular body draped over mine.

He’s still here.

I wiggled my fingers and toes, trying to keep calm.

I decided not to tell him he shouldered the blame for my body’s reluctance to heal. But in my heart, I knew the truth.

From the moment he stormed out of the kitchen and ignored me, venomous unease slithered into my limbs, latching onto each organ until I struggled to stand, breathe, exist.

While my tear ducts never seemed to get the memo, the rest of my body remained in perfect sync with my soul.

Both craved Romeo.

And both stubborn entities went on strike until they got him.

Yet again, my romance books proved right. Love is an accident. Something that occurs completely out of your control with no regard for your safety.

At first, the desire to reach out enticed me. Then my fever spiked, my bones descending into unending ache.

The more time passed, the worse I felt.

The worse I felt, the angrier I got that he hadn’t even checked on me once.

He was here now.

I didn’t know if it was out of obligation, reluctance, or genuine worry. It didn’t matter.

Stupid gratitude fueled each breath. I felt all better now. Brand new, in fact. And eager to find my way back into my husband’s good graces.

How convenient, then, that we were both naked in my bed. I wiggled my butt against his cock, springing it to life within seconds.

For someone so against breeding, he wielded a reliably virile response.

Plastering my back to his chest, I propped my head on his shoulder and reached for his cock.

He clasped my wrist before I slipped my fingers into his briefs. “No, thank you.”

My breath hitched. Blood roared between my ears.

I met his eyes. Cold and lifeless, they belonged to the man at the debutante ball. Not the one who made me hot chocolate and agreed to give me the baby I longed for, to sacrifice his own plans and dreams for my own.

“You don’t want me anymore?” I tried to sound casual.

“I want you more than I want my next meal. My next sleep. My next breath. But I cannot afford you, Shortbread. Giving in to you just might kill me.”

Feeling my eyes flare, I jerked my face back. “What are you talking about?”

He slid aside, swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, and slipped his pants on with his back to me. “Are you well?”

“I…uh…yes.” I sat up, dizzy. I told myself it was from the sudden movement and not the direction of conversation. “I don’t think I have a fever anymore.”

“You don’t.” So, he’d checked. “Hettie is here. Vernon, too. I spoke to Dr. Reuben. He’ll arrive later tonight to check on you. He recommended an extra dose of medicine to ward off the remnants of illness.”

I scrunched my nose. “It’s gross.”

“It’s medicine.” He reached for the tiny plastic cup, filled it to the line with purple cough syrup, and pressed it against my lips. “Drink it.”

I shook my head, my lips zipped shut.

“Shortbread.”

Another head shake.

I knew if I opened my mouth, he’d tip it in. Not only did it taste expired, it also came with an hours-long aftertaste.

With the cup still kissing my lips, Romeo lowered his nose, tracing it up my neck, along my jaw, and to my ear.

I released a moan, just in time for him to tip the medicine into my throat and whisper, “Swallow it.”

Fair play didn’t even exist in his dictionary, did it?

Frowning, I gulped every drop. “It’s disgusting.”

“Good. Remember the taste, and never get sick again.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Did you or did you not go ice skating without wearing a coat? And don’t deny it. You left time-stamped receipts to the rink in Rockville Town Center on your vanity. Plus, I confirmed with Hettie.”

“Fine. I should’ve layered up.”

He collected his wallet and phone, shoving them into his pocket.

“Are you leaving?” I squeaked, watching him button his shirt.

My eyes missed him so much, they didn’t dare blink.

He shoved his feet into his shoes. “Yes.”

My bottom lip quivered. “But…why?”

“Because all you want is for me to knock you up so you can waltz back to Chapel Falls. And all I want is to bury myself inside you and never leave your bed. You’re a weakness. An addiction. A distraction.”

I flung out of bed. The abrupt movement sent nausea spiraling down my gut. My knees failed me.

Romeo was there in less than a second, righting me in his arms. And still, his gaze remained flat and unforgivingly dispassionate.

I could liquify into a puddle of regret right then and there, at the feet of his Bruno Cucinellis.

“What you’re saying is nonsense!” I pounded his chest, furious. “No part of me wants to go to Chapel Fa—”

“Stop lying!” It was the first time he’d raised his voice at me. Ever. He ripped himself from me, plowing a hand into his messy, ink-black hair. “Stop lying to me, Dallas. I overheard you telling your sister how much you hate me. How you want me to knock you up so you can go back home.”

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, no.

I couldn’t believe he’d overheard that.

What a disaster.

“Lord.” I tipped my head back, forcing out a laugh. “I lied to her, Romeo.”

“Why?”

“She found out we were having sex. My sheets reeked with the scent of us. I had to make an excuse for allowing you into my bed. I hadn’t confided in her. I’ve never kept a secret from Frankie. She felt deceived and pushed back. She was hurt.”

I never stopped to think he might get hurt, too, if he heard my words. But I should have. Not one of them had rung true.

He arched a brow. “And telling her we were getting along wasn’t a suitable answer?”

“No.”

“Why?”

I sighed. “Because she wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t understand what?”

That I am in love with you.

With my captor. My enemy. My beast.

“Because we’re complicated, and she doesn’t understand relationships. Trust me, Rom. I don’t want to go away. I don’t want to return to Chapel Falls. I lied to my sister, and I’ll make this wrong a right. I promise you that. But you have to believe me.”

I clutched the lapels of his shirt. If he walked out right now, I knew my life would be over. Or at least, the life I wanted for myself.

He peered down at me. I could tell he didn’t want to believe me. That his overdeveloped self-preservation instincts begged him to guard against another heartbreak.

I couldn’t believe I made him taste betrayal again. The thought sickened me.

“I have no reason to trust you,” he finally said. Deathly quiet.

“I know.” I clung to him.

We were so close, I could smell him. I wanted to drown in him and never resurface.

“Then, why should I?”

“Because I’m asking you to.” I licked my lips. “And because that should be enough.”

His nostrils flared. I knew he didn’t want to give me a chance. I also knew this was exactly why he’d ghosted me.

He wanted to step back from the intensity of our relationship. Well, I wasn’t having it.

I wanted him.

All of him.

Palming his cheeks, I lowered his face down to mine. Our foreheads met. The tips of our noses touched.

I breathed hard, my lips moving over his. “You are not the only one here with a dark corner to your soul. I will go to extreme lengths to make sure you are mine. I want you. And I won’t give you up just because you decided you want to try out life without me again.”

That was all it took for his lips to fuse with mine.

Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed the backs of my thighs, hoisted me up as my legs wrapped around his waist, and carried me across the room.

He thrust his tongue past my lips, kissing me deeply and furiously.

I moaned into his mouth, giving the kiss all I had before coming up for air and realizing we were in the hallway now. “Where are we going?”

I nipped at his chin, already working on unbuttoning his shirt. I couldn’t believe we’d gone over an entire week without sex.

“My room.” He sucked the side of my throat, moving my panties aside and fingering me with the hand that wasn’t holding me wrapped against his body. “Our room.”

“Our room?” I pulled back, staring at him, wide-eyed.

“I am fucking done asking permission to see you every night. You’re moving in. Starting now.”

The next morning, Romeo was already in his study when I woke up. He obviously didn’t bridge Christmas and New Year where work was concerned.

I splashed in his massive bed—our massive bed—grinning to myself. Somehow, yesterday had resulted in shattering a mental wall of his. I now budged closer to becoming his wife not only in name but in purpose.

My stomach growled, royally announcing it was back in business, demanding to be filled with decadent holiday pastries.

But the rest of me had more pressing issues to tend to. Like moving all my things to the master bedroom before Romeo changed his mind.

I hurried down the corridor before remembering that I needed to pee. Slipping into a bathroom, I crouched on the toilet and giggled to myself.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed something in the trash can by the sink. After wiping and flushing, I fished it out.

A Barnes & Noble bag?

Heart stammering, I tugged out the item inside, though I already knew what it would be.

The new Henry Plotkin book.

The thing I wanted more than anything else.

Shallow breaths sweltered in my throat. I closed my eyes, pressing the backs of my hands to my hot and tender cheeks.

He went there. Romeo. Waited outside the store all night to get me the book I wanted, knowing I couldn’t go myself.

Then he returned in the morning, only to hear me trash him to Frankie…

No wonder he was so angry. So miserable.

After opening up to me. After sharing his body and future. After everything.

And still.

He cared about me. He worried for me. He nursed me back to health, tended to me, and bathed me when he thought I felt the worst about him.

I wasn’t falling in love with my husband. I was crashing straight into the arms of unhealthy, frenzied obsession.

If he left me now, I would never get over him.

He would forever be my perfect, dark Romeo.