Divided (Unguarded #2) (19 page)

Our labored breathing becomes the only sound in the dark room. Roamyn collapses on top of me and the moon shines down on him, lighting up the defined muscle tone in his back.

Roamyn’s weight adds pressure to my chest and I struggle to catch my breath after the mind-blowing sex. “Not that I want to move right now. Just for the record, I don’t. But you’re squishing me and I can’t exactly breathe.”

He chuckles into my neck. Breath tickling my skin and I squirm. Propping up on his hands, he hovers over me. With a twinkle in his eyes, he gleams down at me, sated and pleased with himself if the smirk teasing at his lips is anything to go by. I scoff.
Still cocky.

I trail my fingers lazily over the veins in his forearm and weave them around to his sweaty chest. His gaze following the swirls I’m making with my fingers.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

He sighs and angles his head toward me, a sad smile on his face. “I’m thinking that no matter how many times I dreamed about this happening, not one of those dreams compares to the real thing.”

I melt. I swoon. I hurt. All at once. I’ve pined over the guy since I was fifteen and finally I’ve got him. He’s got me. But it’s not our time. Not yet. I ignore the voices in my head and live in this moment for a little longer.

I smile at him. “Smooth talker, aren’t you?”

He winks. “Only for you, babe.”

My head tilts back and I laugh before shifting under him. “We better get cleaned up.”

He rolls over, biceps bulging as he rests his hands behind his head. “Yeah, gotta get ready for round two.”

I arch a brow. “Round two?”

He looks at me like I’ve asked the most ridiculous question. “Babe. Seven years.”

Enough said.

Sunlight pulls me from sleep. I open one eye and glance up. The sun is shining through, a reminder I never closed the blinds last night. The distraction behind not doing it hardens the semi I’m already sporting. I close my eyes again, lids heavy and roll over to the empty side of the bed. I haven’t had nearly enough sleep. Ali’s vanilla perfume wafts from the pillow and I breathe in the scent I’ve come to recognize as Ali. Everything vanilla makes me think of her. The clashing sounds of pots and pans comes from outside the room and I figure Ali must be making breakfast. I yawn and sit up on the side of the bed. Yanking up my boxers from the floor, I slip them on, pull my dick up to lean against the waistband because it’s still hard as fuck from thinking about Ali.

I wander into the kitchen. Music pumps from the stereo and there’s Ali’s little round ass, shaking in the air as she checks on something in the oven. She sings the lyrics to the song playing, completely out of tune and I lean my elbows on the counter, a hand coming up to cover the grin I can’t hide because fuck, she couldn’t get any cuter. Her long blonde hair swishes around and my head tilts to the side as I admire her ass, peeking out under my shirt. She spins around and stops mid-step.

“Roamyn.” Her cheeks blush.

“By all means. Please, continue what you’re doing,” I say, my smile now huge and completely unhidden.

“Actually, I think what you’re baking in there needs to be checked.” I stand up and point to the oven, hoping she’ll bend back over and show me some skin. “Is something burning?” I sniff the air, pretending to smell smoke.

Her eyes narrow and she smiles. “Did you really think I was going to fall for that?”

I laugh. “A man can dream, babe.”

I take her in from the messy bed hair hanging over her chest but not quite hiding her hard nipples against the fabric across her chest. To my shirt drowning her slight curves but sitting at the tops of her legs giving me a view that my dick believes, deserves a standing ovation.

She pulls at the bottom of the tee. “What is it?” she asks, her tone sweet and soft.

“Nothing. Just… watching you in my shirt. In my kitchen. Fucking ruining whatever the hell it is you’re trying to cook on the stove.” We both laugh as I gesture to the pan with what I’m assuming Ali had high hopes to be an omelet.

My voice becomes low. “It’s different.”

“You mean a woman’s never cooked you breakfast before?”

I shake my head and grab a glass of juice from the fridge. “Nope. I don’t usually partake in the sort of relationships that entail cooking breakfast the next day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Gee. Shocker.”

Ali moves past me but I grab her hip before she gets far and I move us back against my counter. I lean either side of her, not leaving an escape. Her breath hitches.

“Never wanted it. Not until you came along.”

Her lips part. She squirms, rubbing her thighs together. “I wouldn’t really say I came along into your life, Roam.”

I look past, Ali. My throat closes up with the hurt bound to come from me voicing out loud what I’m about to say. “No. You crashed in it. Consumed me. And now you’re everything.”

It’s the eyes.

Her steel-blue hues that if I looked at her right now, would be soft, full of love and regret all at the same time, because she loves me. That’s the most stupid most painful fucking part of this.

“Roam,” she whispers and it kills me. Fucking ruins me.

I don’t give her the chance to continue. I can’t take it. Not after the night we’ve just had.

“I know you’re not ready, Ali. I get it. You’re still healing.”

She lifts her hand to my chest. “You love me no matter what I do. You love all sides to me. Even the ones you should never have had to see.” A tear rolls down her cheek and she peers up at me. “Let me become the best version of me. So that I can love you no matter what, too.”

My heart? That thing that used to beat and keep me alive? Ripped-the-motherfucking-out.

I sniff, holding back the emotion I want to let loose. I want to scream for the injustice of it all. Don’t we deserve to be happy after everything the two of us have been through, together and apart?

I drop my arms and step back, letting her go. I love her. I understand her. But we both need time alone.

She disappears into the bedroom and comes back out still dressed in my shirt, but with cut-offs underneath and her black combat boots on her feet.

She walks to the door and as she pulls it open, she stops and glances back at me. “I’ll see you soon, Detective Roamyn Tate.”

I clench my jaw. “Yeah. You will.”

She walks away and I call out before it shuts. “And Ali?”

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice lighter.

“Be safe.”

A small smile lights up her angelic face. “I’ll always be safe, Roamyn. I’ve got you watching over me.”

The door clicks shut. Along with my heart.

Sad, sappy, shitty music does nothing for nursing a broken heart. But the bottle of whiskey I’ve nearly downed since Ali left this morning, has at least eased the ache in my chest to a dull throb every now and again.

“Roamyn. Open up.”

My ears perk up.

“Ali?” I slur and stumble to the door of my apartment. I get closer and the knocking becomes louder. I yank open the door, the bottle still in my other hand.

My brows knot together. “Sarah?”

Sarah, my old
friends with benefits,
stands at the door in her pajamas with her hands on her hips and her hair in a knot on the top of her head. “Roam, sweetie, you gotta turn down the music. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow followed by court. I need sleep and I can’t get any with that play—”

She must notice the near-empty bottle in my hand or the fact I look like shit. She screws her nose up. “You smell like a liquor store.”

“Yep. Probably ‘cause I’m drinking it.” I take another swig.

Sarah folds her arms across herself. “This is about her isn’t it?”

My shoulders hang loose and I scoff. “What do you mean, her? Nothing is about a
her.
I’m just enjoying a quiet drink.”

Sarah peers behind me. “Mmm… yeah. Sure sounds like it. This drinking can’t possibly be because the girl you’re madly in love with broke your heart?”

Pain twists in my stomach.

I salute her with my drink. “She didn’t break my heart, Sarah. She fucking demolished it.”

I gulp down whiskey and let it burn my throat.
Better that than my heart.

Her expression slackens. “Oh, Roamyn. Come on, let’s go inside.” She grabs my hand and pulls me in.

“What about your early meeting tomorrow?” I ask as she shuffles around my kitchen.

She passes me a glass of water. “Don’t worry about it. Just drink this, you’ll need it judging by the length of time your depressing music has been playing and that nearly empty bottle of Jack you got there.”

I take a sip and wipe a hand over my mouth. “Thanks.”

Sarah glances around, tapping her hand on the counter.

“Got something to say, Sarah, just say it.”

Her face contorts. “Roamyn. We’ve been seeing each other for years and—”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it seeing,” I butt in and take another sip of the water. It sobers me up and I feel less woozy.

“Okay. Screwing. Friends with benefits—call it what you want. But in the entire time of our friendship you’ve been hung up on this woman, who from what I can see, only brings you pain. Why do it to yourself, Roam? Why hold on if after all of these years you still can’t make it work with her?”

I asked myself the same question once. Then I saw her again and remembered why.

I scowl. “You of all people should understand why.”

She stares down at her empty hands. “No. This is totally different.”

“How? You were using me to get over your ex. So how’s it different?”

“My fiancé didn’t break up with me, Roam. He died.” Her voice becomes weak. Tearful.

I rub my hands over my face. “Ah shit. I’m sorry, Sarah.”

She winces. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“You wanna know why I hold on?” I reply, my gaze unfocused as Ali’s smiling face replays in my mind.

She nods. “If you wanna share.”

Despite not wanting it, my heart blazes with the warmth only love is capable of. “Ali’s the part of me I never knew was missing. I love her. I love her more than anything in this world. I love her more than my own happiness which is why I hold on. I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting for her if I have to because she’s it for me. There is no one else.”