His Juliet: An Age Gap Hurt Comfort Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 2)

Romeo was pressed against my body, and the desk behind me meant I couldn’t move away.

Not that I wanted to.

The heat in his eyes made me squirm. I wanted to wrap myself around him and make him stay forever.

My cheeks heated and I was glad Romeo couldn’t read my mind. If he knew I was already obsessed with him, he would run out of here so fast.

My breath caught as his hands trailed down my sides. He gripped my hips and lifted me onto the desk, and I let out a squeak at the movement, stunned that he lifted me so easily.

“A little warning next time,” I gasped.

His hands slowly ran up my thighs. “But I like you like this. Pink-cheeked”—his lips skated across my skin—“and heart pounding.” His fingers encircled my wrists, no doubt feeling my racing pulse.

A jolt of fear joined my arousal as I was reminded of how much stronger he was than me. How easy it would be for him to overpower me.

“Juliet?” Romeo’s voice brought me back to reality. “You okay?”

I blinked, stunned that he’d noticed the change. I drew in a deep breath and his scent surrounded me—leather and scotch and warmth—easing my anxiety.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

I flipped our hands so I was now holding his wrists, my fingers unable to fully wrap around them. His skin was so warm, his palms calloused, and the backs of his hands were littered with tiny white scars. The steady drum of his pulse grounded me, as if my past and all its darkness just faded away.

Romeo cupped my face. “Do you even know what an angel you are?”

I traced the edge of his jaw, his stubble rough against my fingertips. “I’m not an angel.” My words came out in a whispered confession.

“You are.” He pulled me closer, urging my legs to wrap around his waist. “And I’m the devil, so I would know.”

Our lips were a hairsbreadth apart, the very air around us electric. My heart pounded with excitement. He was going to kiss me, and I wanted him to.

And then Romeo’s phone went off.noveldrama

“Shit,” he muttered. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and something dark crossed his face as he read whatever was on his screen. He typed out a quick response and looked back at me. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

My heart sank, and I swallowed down my disappointment. He actually seemed sorry.

“That’s okay,” I said.

“It’s fucking not,” he muttered before holding out his phone to me. “Put in your number.”

I took the phone but didn’t type anything in. “Why?”

“Because I want to be able to get in touch.”

I huffed and gave his chest a little nudge, not that he moved. “But why?” I wanted to know what this was between us. Why had he come today? What did he want from me?

He gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do what you’re told.”

I scowled at his infuriatingly high-handed command, but for some reason, his words sent a burst of arousal through me.

I entered my phone number.

“Good girl.” He took his phone back. “How are you getting home?”

“I’m walking.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s dark outside.”

“I have walked at night before,” I teased. But Romeo’s expression darkened further.

“Get your jacket. I’m walking you home.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

“No arguing.”

His unwavering gaze met my scowl.

“I generally don’t let strangers know where I live.”

“That’s very smart. Good thing I’m not a stranger.” When I didn’t budge, he sighed. “Juliet, I could find your address in seconds if I wanted to. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you. But what I’m not about to do is let you walk home alone in a shitty part of the city in the dark.”

Wait, what? How could he find my address? Although, I guessed anyone with enough money could find things out online.

“This is not a shitty part of the city.” I crossed my arms. “Where do you live then?”

“Upper West Side.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you do. Fine, you can walk me home. But just know, when they make a true crime podcast about my murder, this is when all the listeners will be shouting that I’m an idiot.”

He snorted. “You’ve got an active imagination there, sweetheart.” Then his hands were on my hips again as he helped me down off the desk, sliding my body slowly against his. I stayed there for a moment, pressed against him and breathing in his scent, before reluctantly pulling back.

I couldn’t explain my behavior, my willingness to let Romeo into my life, except that I’d been around a lot of abusive men, and Romeo didn’t remind me of them. There was an edge of danger to him… maybe more than just an edge, if I was honest, but no cruelty that I could sense.

He helped me into my jacket, his hands running down my arms.

I raised an eyebrow. “Quite a gentleman.”

“Always.” He held the door open with a flourish.

The second I locked it, Romeo slung his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side as we started walking. I usually had to fortify myself before stepping out onto the street, but I felt instantly more relaxed with him beside me.

I had always been this way—anxious in public—even before the agoraphobia was as bad as it was now. I would only explore the city with my friends at my side, and they had never teased me for it. When we started community college classes, they made sure their schedules matched mine, so there was always at least one person who could walk with me to class and back home.

I’d forgotten how nice it was to not have to go it alone.

Romeo arranged me so he was closest to the street, holding me tighter anytime someone passed us. I’d often dreamed of finding an apartment even closer to the bookstore, but today, I wished there was a way to stretch out the seven blocks.