Love Me (The Elites of Cheshire shore #2)

13. Florence

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

florence

I bring the last grocery bag inside and kick the door closed behind me. Even though Rome told me to add the things I needed to the shopping list and they would get delivered with the rest of his weekly grocery shop. There’s just something about putting my tampons on a list for someone else to get that doesn’t sit well with me. And of course, while at the store, I couldn’t help myself, and I picked up a few things I definitely didn’t need, but they somehow landed up in my cart, including the chocolate cookies that are Rome’s and my favorite. I place the shopping bags on the small island, I picked some ingredients for my lollipops as well, and I need to get my next batch going.

I can’t believe two weeks of Rome and I living together has already gone by. With both our busy schedules, we hardly see each other some days. My phone pings in my pocket.

Rome

Don’t eat dinner tonight

My eyebrows pull down as I read his message.

Flo

Is there a particular reason for my Rome-imposed hunger strike?

Rome

Yes

I stare at his reply, waiting for an additional message that has some sort of explanation. I set the phone on the countertop, peeking at the blank screen every few seconds while I set out my wheat sticks on the tray. What the heck is he playing at?

Flo

Perhaps I’ll be waiting at home, naked and covered in sushi

Rome

How very Samantha Jones of you…if you’re planning to cover yourself in food, a little originality wouldn’t go astray

Flo

You should be congratulating me

Rome

For subjecting me and my brothers to arguably one of the worst TV shows?

Flo

I am patting myself on the back for culturing you

Flo

I never heard you guys complain when the sex part of the show was on

Rome

You’ll never hear me complain about that *wink face*

Flo

…just so you know. You’re the only person who I would allow to boss me around without a valid reason

Okay and maybe Luca, too, but I would still give Luca never-ending shit over it. Rome, though, just makes me question what he has planned. I finish pouring out my honey ginger mix and set the tray aside to cool, when my phone flashes at me.

Rome

Good. Keep it that way

Flo

Yes, sire

I hit Send on the message, an excited smile curling along my lips, secretly loving that Rome really thinks he’s in charge here.

Rome

Not really loving the incest vibe here…

Huh?! I read his message twice . Incest? My mouth becomes slightly ajar. What the fuck, autocorrect changed my message to yes, sire? It was meant to say yes, sir .

A second message follows.

Rome

But if you refer to me as your lord, I can get around it

I slap my forehead with my palm. My stupid autocorrect has taken my sassy message and turned it into…I don’t even know what to call this.

Flo

I meant to write “yes sir,” but stupid autocorrect fucked it up. I will await your return, milord. *curtsey*

I send the message and pocket my phone, shaking my head. My textbooks are calling my name, so I grab the two thick books from my room, ready to set up a little study corner.

“Hey,” Rome calls as he opens the door.

“Hey.” I gaze up from the textbook I’m currently highlighting. Studying never stops, even when you’re in your residency, and the Cheshire Shore program is very different from other hospitals; we spend a lot of time doing rotations in other specialties. I tuck a highlighter in the messy bun on my head currently being held together by two other highlighters and a pen. “How was work?” I watch the tight bunch of Rome’s shoulders as he lets his work satchel fall from his shoulders, leaving his thick overcoat on the hanging rack by the door. He scrubs a tired hand down his worn-out face, almost like he is attempting to leave all his stresses at the door with a giant exhale.

“Shit,” he replies, padding across the entryway toward the fridge, where he grabs a bottle of water and cracks the lid. My eyes are glued to his thick throat working as he takes large pulls of water. I shake my head and return my gaze back to the graphic diagram of the cross section of an airway. Rome’s neck makes this diagram look wildly inaccurate. I take my pen and write that note next to the diagram.

“Would it be all right if we just did something low key tonight?”

“What?” I grab one of the now dry lollipops from the batch I made this afternoon from the piece of parchment and stick it in my mouth. Intentionally pretending to not know what he is referring to.

Rome lowers the half-empty bottle to the table, a small line creasing between his eyebrows. “Tonight. You know the whole ‘don’t eat dinner’ text message?” I smoother a giggle at the way he air quotes the three words.

“Lucky, because I specialize in low key.”

Some of the tension eases from Rome’s body, he finishes off the bottle of water. “I’m going to grab a shower.”

He crosses the room, dots a kiss on my cheek, and steals a lollipop. “I knew it,” I almost shout.

He pulls my favorite healthy treat out of his mouth. “You secretly love my lollipops.”

“I may be coming around to them. Or maybe I’m just in need of a snack.” His eyes heat, simmering when he says snack, he twirls the wheat straw stick between his fingers before popping the honey treat in his mouth and leaving me.

I don’t know how long I stay sitting there, staring at the spot in the air where Rome was. The slam of the bathroom door snaps me out of the trancelike state I’ve been put in. I close my textbook a little harder than necessary, my focus window has now well and truly shut, and it feels like everything I’ve learned today was just flushed down the toilet because I can’t recall any of it.

Rome emerges from the shower in a soft gray, long-sleeve shirt, that seems to have been painted onto his body, and a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips. Neither of us has mentioned the messages from earlier, and I don’t plan to be the one to break that particular bit of silence.

“How’s the studying going?” he finally asks. I stare up at him and glance quickly around the room then down at my sweats. Yep, I’m fairly content with a night in .

“Slow. But I’m nearly finished this section finally.” I need to be on my game, Dr. Dick is really drilling us on our knowledge before surgeries.

“Great. I know I told you to not eat anything, but I wanted to have a relaxing night of just us.”

“What kind of humble subject would I be if I were not easily amenable?” I give him a weak smile.

Rome groans, but I watch as his body seems to relax even more. I guess his day at work must have been more stressful than he let on, maybe it has something to do with the dinner guest who didn’t show?

I continue to write in my cue card while Rome busily grabs pots and pans from the various drawers. After he finished pouting, he declared it was sliders on the menu for tonight. I quickly whipped up a nice little charcuterie board, while Rome opened a bottle of red wine. We settle on the couch, nibbling at the food. With my textbook slung open across my lap and my feet resting on Rome as he slowly rubs circles on my aching toes, his focus is set clearly on the football game playing in the background.

“Do you want me to turn the TV off?” he asks, disturbing me from the line I’m highlighting. I lift my eyes from the page to find him concentrating hard on me.

“No, I’m good, I’m almost a pro at blocking out outside noise.” In high-stress situations you kind of need to learn that skill. My tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip, suddenly dry under the intensity of Rome’s gaze. With his eyes still on me, he reaches across, grabs the remote, and lowers the volume of the TV. I start writing out the notes on the cue cards I plan to test myself with later.

“Still, I don’t want you to be distracted when you need to be focusing on more important things.”

Too fucking late for that. I give a soft nod and tuck the highlighter back into my bun. I try to test myself on the cue cards I’d spent the afternoon writing, but everything is going through my mind like it’s a giant holed sieve.

“Do you want some help?” He gestures at the small stack of cue cards. “I’m probably shit at pronouncing the terminology, but I could help test you.”

I clear my throat. The last time I asked Luca to help me, it went down like a lead balloon and ended in him not talking to me for two days until I brought him an I’m sorry for calling you an idiot coffee. I really don’t want that to happen with Rome. “Umm, yeah, actually it would be a huge help.”

I hand him my cue cards, trying to hide my shaky hand, hoping this goes better or else I’m going to see if maybe Archer wants to grab a drink and go over some of this terminology with me. Rome grabs his reading glasses from the coffee table, does a quick flip through my cards, and reshuffles the order while I discretely wring my hands together in my lap, not-so-patiently waiting for the first question.

“Name two competing factors when anesthetizing a patient, and Dr. Liu-Savino, there are multiple answers. I expect them all in ascending order.”

My eyes boggle out of my skull. Holy shit . I did not expect that to come from his mouth at all. He didn’t even do the weird sounding-out thing Luca did to pronounce each word.

“Tick-tock, lollipop. You’ve got a patient waiting.” I shake the dumbfounded expression off my face and answer his question. Rome doesn’t let me bask in my glory too long, asking me a follow-up question. Rome is dangerous; it could be entirely too easy to get used to this.

“Wait, that wasn’t even on my cue card,” I argue when Rome corrects me.

“Yeah, it wasn’t, but I was reading the passage you were highlighting, and you didn’t note it down.”

He was reading my textbook while I was? I thought he was watching the football game, but he’s been studying with me the whole time.

A wicked smile showcasing his teeth lights his face. “I hope you know what that means, Dr. Liu-Savino.”

The way he says my name causes electricity to lick across my skin. “Yeah.” I lick my lips. “I definitely can’t leave my diary around the place.”

Something lightly brushes against my cheek, and my eyes fly open. My hand grips the textbook I was holding as I try to slowly gain my bearings. When did my textbook become so hard? I tighten my grip on it; I don’t want it to fall on the floor and have the pages rip out of the middle, or worse, crinkle the edges—my book-loving heart cannot take that. Plus, these things cost a fortune, and I’ve already had to replace them after the fire. A male groaning sounds from underneath me as my hand tightens its grip.

Huh?

I swing my gaze to the right. It’s still dark outside. Shit, we must’ve fallen asleep after all that studying Rome helped me with.

“Lollipop.” Rome’s gritty voice startles me. “Unless you plan to start moving your hand up and down, I suggest you release the grip you have on my cock.”

OH. FUCK. I know Rome and Luca are brothers, but are they seriously only ever focused on their dicks. “Jeez, Rome, it’s a sad day when you compare your dick to the thickness of my textbook.”

“There is no comparison, my dick is clearly bigger. You should know from the way you’re currently death-gripping it.”

My eyes slowly track down to his chin and the generous stubble darkening his jaw to his broad chest, to find my hand resting on top of his pant-clad dick. I give it one more squeeze, and Rome rolls his lips together as a strangled gasp escapes his throat. I swallow, hard, and lift my hand up, my cheeks hot as a blush creeps up my neck.

“Sorry, I-I-I thought that was my textbook, I didn’t want to lose it.”

“Too bad.” Rome scrubs a hand down his face. “I was almost hoping you were going to choose the other option.”

Part of me was, too, but I’m not sure if we’re ready to add friends with benefits into our relationship. Yet.