My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(7)

“What made you come to the rose garden? The snacks or the proposition?”

“A bit of both.” I licked my fingers. “And the fact that I bet Madison doesn’t stay fai—” I stopped myself.

I shouldn’t talk badly about my fiancé, even if he did do me dirty. We weren’t officially together. We hadn’t even kissed.

It wasn’t like I was jealous. I couldn’t give the first dang about whom he hung out with before we truly became a couple.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I amended.

“Your cat will survive. Though I’m tempted to leave it in less-than-pristine condition.”

My cat? Did he mean my pu…

Oh. My. Lord.

My body, which didn’t get the memo that we were both supposed to dislike conceited jerks, got tingly in places I normally forgot existed.

“You’re terrible,” I informed him cheerfully. “You’re going to be my favorite mistake.”

He stopped on a rolling green hill at the back of the opera house. It seemed secluded enough, with a dark wall to our right.

Romeo passed me the champagne bottle. “Drink.”

Pressing it to my lips, I drained a fifth. “You’re not a master of seduction, are you?”

He leaned against the wall, hands tucked inside his front pockets. “Seduction is an art I rarely have to perform.”

The fizzy liquid ran down my throat, cold and fresh.

I coughed a little, forking over the bottle. “So humble.”

He took a generous swig, the gum still in his mouth. “Are you a virgin?”

“Yes.” I glanced around, suddenly wondering if it was worth it. He was hot. But also, kind of a pig. “Are you?”

“Close enough.”

The question had been a joke, so it took me a while to register his answer.

Tipping my head back, I laughed. “What do you know? There is a sense of humor under all this ice.”

“Have you considered how far you want to take this?” He passed the bottle back to me, two-thirds empty.

“Can I just tell you when to stop?”

“From my brief history with you, my guess is you won’t stop until you’ve not only lost your virginity, but have lost the virginity of every other well-bred girl in this zip code, too. Let’s agree to keep your hymen intact.”

Someone needed to work on their dirty talk.

“Sounds good. Are you from New York?”

“No.”

“Then wher—”

“Let’s not talk.”

Oh. Kay.

The man wasn’t going down in my history book for the nicest hookup, but he was the hottest one by a thousand miles, so I let it slide.

We shuttled the champagne back and forth until it emptied. My body felt like a live wire, humming with anticipation.

Finally—finally—he set the bottle on the ground, pushed off the wall, and pinched my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting my head up.

My heart somersaulted, diving to the pit of my stomach, where it liquidized into sludge.

For the first time, his eyes glittered with warm approval. “I’ve met IRS agents more likable than you. I’ll give you one thing, though. You’re quite delicious, Miss Townsend.”

My mouth fell open. “How would you kno—”

But I never finished the sentence because he spat his gum on the grass and shut me up with a searing kiss.

His mouth was warm and smelled of bonfire, expensive perfume, and spearmint. It sucked all logic out of me, rendering me dizzy.

His body felt strong, hard, and foreign. I molded into him, wrapping around him like an octopus.

He darted the tip of his tongue out, parting my lips. When I opened them eagerly, his satisfaction reverberated in my stomach.

He cupped the back of my neck to deepen the kiss. His tongue was fully in my mouth now, exploring the grounds like it was conquering every inch.

The bite of freshness from his gum filled me. He tasted delicious, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Just like that, his harsh words and stony exterior melted into passion, fire, and a depraved promise for things I didn’t know if I could handle.

The place between my legs throbbed.

I tried to remember if anything I’d ever done before felt like this. The answer, depressingly, was no.

This was completely new territory. Unchartered waters I wanted to dive right into.

I whimpered into his mouth, yanking the lapels of his jacket, my tongue chasing his. I didn’t care what he thought of me. I’d never see him again.

My hands roamed his sleeves, clutching the expensive material and sinewy muscles beneath it. He was athletic and built without looking bulky.

Lord, he was beautiful.

Cold, smooth, and imperial as marble.

As if somebody had breathed just enough soul into a Roman statue to make it move—but not enough to make it feel.

As we devoured each other, I wondered if I could feel each individual ridge of his six-pack. I patted down his abs. I could.

Wait until Frankie heard about this. She was going to cry horny tears.

Romeo pushed me against the wall, wrapping my dark tresses around his fist two times over like reins of a horse. He tugged, slanting my head up and deepening our kiss.

His massive erection dug into my thigh, pulsating with heat and need. A thrill shot up my spine.