Free Spoken For by Emma Briar Page B

everything.
    Well, I gloss over some of the details when it comes to me and Roman, but I tell him about my flash-dream of Kyle and Lucy and what I think it means.
    Liam doesn’t say much, he never does.
    He lets me ramble on and on until I’m empty, and then I feel him pulling a blanket over me as my eyes drift closed.

 
    16
     
     
    I’M CROSSING THE hallway to the breakfast room when Roman’s voice almost trips me.
    “A word, Keegan.”
    There’s so much dark intent stamped on his tone, he might as well have said, Is there a problem, Ms. Lynch?
    He’s leaning against the doorjamb of the library, arms folded, his stony gaze boring into me. His chiselled jaw has an extra edge from the tension darkening his expression. He’s not amused, clearly.
    My pulse still hitches as my eyes take him in. He’s wearing his faded jeans again and a long-sleeved, ribbed white tee that shrugs his rippled chest.
    “I, um…” I wet my lips. “I’m just on my way to breakfast.”
    My nipple tingles at the prospect of his special brand of attention, but I’m in an odd mood this morning. A good mood, and I’m not ready for another prematurely aborted lesson to kill my buzz.
    He steps away from the doorjamb, gesturing me inside. “This won’t take long.”
    “That’s the problem,” I mutter under my breath as I slip past him.
    The door clicks closed, no latch locking.
    I scoot across the room, nowhere near the fireplace.
    “You weren’t in your room this morning,” he says, his measured stride slowly bringing him closer. “Your bed hadn’t been slept in.”
    “It’s not what you think,” I sigh. “I fell asleep on Liam’s bed, but nothing happened.”
    “That’s a matter of opinion, Keegan.” The scowl eases from his brow, but his eyes and voice still judge me for bad, bad behaviour.
    The accusation irks me.
    Roman doesn’t own me.
    He hasn’t even kissed me.
    My chin nudges high on irritation. “I’m sure it breaks ground rule one-hundred and something—”
    “There’s only one rule you have to remember,” he cuts in with a low growl. “If you want me to fuck you, you stay out of other men’s beds.”
    The breath whooshes from my lungs.
    Did he just say—?
    He leans in, his gaze heating into me. “I have no problem with your friendship, Keegan, but that’s a firm line for me. I don’t give a damn how platonic or innocent it is, I won’t tolerate you in his bed.”
    My eyes dip to his sternly drawn mouth. His kisses won’t be tender. He’ll crush my lips, plunge his tongue inside me, ravish my mouth while his hands go all over me. Oh, God. My bones turn leaden with desire.
    “Think about that while we’re at breakfast.” He straightens, the heat blanking from his gaze. “Come.”
    What?
    The smallest, grimmest smile hooks the corner of his mouth as he turns from me and walks out.
    I can’t believe he’s done it again.
    He’s gotten me hot and bothered and all he’s offering is breakfast.
    I’m not the least bit hungry anymore, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how he’s worked me up so I follow out into the hallway and around the corner leading to the cosy breakfast room.
    Roman pauses on the bend, falling into step with me just before we reach the door.
    “If you want this,” he says quietly, “then go directly up to my bedroom after breakfast. Turn right at the top of the stairs, it’s the room at the very end. I want you naked, stripped and perched on the edge of my bed like an unwrapped gift, waiting for me. Do you understand?”
    My stomach clenches.
    Hard.
    I don’t know if it’s desire, disbelief or anger.
    Roman pulls ahead, murmuring a greeting to whoever’s already there.
    My feet are frozen.
    I have no intention of entering, but then Roman calls out, “Keegan? Coffee?”
    Damn the man.
    I pop my head in and see both Connor and Bold seated at the table. “Morning.”
    Bold inclines his head at me.
    “Morning, Keegan,” Connor beams a smile at me.