The Virgin’s Guide to Misbehaving (Bluebonnet #4)(43)
Author: Jessica Clare

She’d never assumed that he’d just stop calling entirely.

It had been three days since she’d heard from him. She’d been hurt when she’d gone out to the paintball course to take action shots and he’d been deep in the woods. But that was his job, so she hadn’t dwelled on it too much. Then she’d stopped by the Daughtry Ranch the next day to show the photos to her brother, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rome, but he never came through the lodge.

Her phone was utterly silent and the weekend was coming up. She knew Rome would have those days off. Did he not want to spend them with her? She’d . . . just assumed he would.

Was she an idiot for thinking he might want to? She didn’t know what to do. Brenna had sworn up and down that she wouldn’t tell Grant, and she believed her. Knowing Grant and his protective streak, he’d have gone nuts about the entire thing, but he’d been chipper and open the last few days, his mood great. He certainly didn’t seem like something was wrong.

No, she had to conclude that Brenna hadn’t said anything to Grant, and the fact that Rome was avoiding her was of his own doing.

And that hurt, a lot.

Was it her? Had he not enjoyed their time together? She thought he had. She had the box of condoms at the ready, and she’d decided that the next time she saw Rome, she’d have sex. Real, honest to goodness, sweaty, delicious sex.

Except she wasn’t exactly sure there would be a next time.

So she moped around the Peppermint House and tried to keep busy. Emily had offered her one of the guest bathrooms to set up as a darkroom, but she hadn’t bothered yet. The only pictures she had to develop were of Rome, and she didn’t feel like looking at those at the moment.

She was at a loss.

Elise stared at her phone again, wondering. Should she just call? Ask what was wrong? Was he upset over something?

After a moment’s indecision, she sent a tentative Hi to his phone.

No answer.

She waited an hour, then two. After five hours, she was pretty sure he was ignoring her text. Rome checked his phone more often than that.

She felt sick to her stomach.

TEN

Rome put the lock on the paintball shed and rubbed his lower back. It had been a long, hellish day. They were in full swing trying to get the paintball course ready to go for the big launch, which meant ordering extra supplies, testing out everything, and clearing any sort of debris that might trip someone up on the field. Grant wanted to make sure there were no “liabilities waiting to happen,” so Rome and Pop had gone over the course repeatedly. Hell, Rome had spent an hour just jumping on the damn constructed castle to make sure it wouldn’t fall apart due to a little roughhousing.

That had been hard work, of course, but that hadn’t been the hellish part.

It was having to ignore his girl.

He’d stared at her text all day. Hi. He’d hoped that she’d send more. That she’d take the initiative and send him something even though he was ignoring her. He craved contact with her. His nights were filled with thoughts of her, and when he woke up and she wasn’t beside him in his bed, it felt wrong. She haunted him, her sweet innocence and the spark of fire that showed when she was pushed too far. Over and over, he kept thinking of their session in the salon, when he’d parted her knees and licked her pu**y until she’d come. She’d been blown away. Hell, he’d been blown away, too. She’d reached for him first. She’d wanted to touch him. He couldn’t stop thinking about that.

He jerked off to it in the shower, daily, just thinking about her hands on him. She’d wanted him. Even now, his c**k hardened at the thought of her. They’d never gone as far with each consecutive date, skirting around sex and just making out for what seemed like hours on end instead. That was good, too, but he was craving more of her with every waking moment.

Rome headed into his cabin. Pop was heading over to the main lodge to grab a few beers, but Rome needed time away from the others to cool off and unwind, to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was sit around and try to act like everything was cool when he was all f**ked-up inside.

Elise had to think this was her fault. Had to. And that was tearing him up. But all he needed was one wrong word said to her brother, and he’d be out on his ass, homeless. He was f**king stuck.

Frustrated, Rome opened the door to his cabin.

Elise sat there on the edge of his bed, her hands clasped on her lap. She stood up as he entered, her eyes widening. “Rome, there you are.”

He glanced around to make sure no one had seen her when he opened the door, and then slid inside. “Elise, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I-I-I-I just thought . . . You weren’t answering my texts . . .” She blinked rapidly, as if fighting tears, and her gaze dropped. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Rome groaned. God, he was the biggest ass**le in the world. He knew he should explain himself, kick her out so her brother didn’t see her, but he found himself moving forward instead and wrapping his arms around her. “Shhh, please don’t cry, Elise.”

Her hand dashed over her face. “I’m n-n-not crying,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I just don’t understand.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did I do something wrong?”

Oh damn. “Stop, Elise. Shh. Please don’t cry.” He kissed her brow a dozen times, pressing his mouth to every inch of her face he could touch. His hand went to her long, silky hair and he touched it, dragging his fingers through the delicious length. God, it felt so good to touch her again. He knew he should resist, but seeing her here . . . “It’s not you, okay? It’s me. I’m all f**ked-up.”

She gave him a skeptical, tear-filled look that told him she clearly didn’t believe him.

“It’s true,” he repeated. “It was nothing you did. God, you’ve been nothing but great.” He held her closer, enjoying the feel of her body against his. “Don’t you know I jerk off to the thought of you every night? If you were here in my bed, I’d f**k the hell out of you constantly, just so you’d know how hot I find you.”

“But . . . then why won’t you talk to me? Or answer my texts?” Her voice was small, wounded. Afraid of what she’d find out.

“It’s just . . . complicated.” He stroked a hand down her hair. “Trust me.”

“You won’t tell me why?” She pushed away from him, suddenly frustrated. “I’m just supposed to accept that everything’s fine and it’s nothing I did and, oh yes, by the way, you refuse to talk to me anymore? What am I supposed to think, Rome?”