Soulmates & Twin Flames

8 - Caveman

Roman is a caveman.

Not in a primitive, unhinged way. Though, I'm sure he has a wild side. That kiss in the elevator was pure fire. The thought of his body pressing against mine still shakes me to the core on Monday as I step into the bar we're meeting.

Which is basically a cave.

I can't help but imagine Roman throwing me over his shoulder in this setting and having his way with me against the bare, stone walls. Just like a caveman.

Roman would be a great caveman.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting as I take a seat by the counter. The tall whiskey shelves behind the bartender glisten like liquid gold. I immediately understand why Roman likes it here. Subtle jazz tunes and his favorite liquor in a raw, primal setting seems perfect for him.

A couple of lone wolves glance my way across the bar. I try not to make eye contact and fix my tight, white skirt. Yeah, I'm a skirt person now. I finally went shopping on Sunday and bought a couple of sexy outfits. This gray blouse with a deep v-neck is brand new too. My second date in ages deserved a wardrobe change.

I look up at the the slightly hunched bartender when he leaves a drinks menu in front of me. He reminds me of my dad—red bowtie, thick glasses and a long, thoughtful face with age lines around his lips. I bet the old guy here knows all the whiskeys on the menu by heart, just like my Dad would know everything about Alzeihmer's and Dementia.

Fuck, look at those prices. Sixty-five dollars for a glass of Scotch?

I shut my gaping mouth, order a bottle of sparkling water for fifteen bucks, and sip it quietly as I wait for Roman.

He walks in a few minutes later, looking sharp in dark suit pants and a dress shirt with top buttons open. He tugs at his sleeve to check his watch, then squints to find me in the shadows.

My stomach drops, then leaps back up when our gazes lock.

It's just a stare. We didn't even touch. But my heart is already fluttering.

Calm down, Abby.

Taking a deep breath, I smile at Roman as he approaches. When he's finally near, we press our cheeks together for a friendly kiss. I'm dying to taste his lips, and the way his eyes flare tells me that he feels the same. But we are civilized people after all, not sex-crazed cave folk.

"Hi." Roman's deep voice fills my ear.

"Hey." I sound huskier than I intended.

A sexy smile pulls the corner of Roman's thin lips as he takes a seat.

"How was your weekend?" I ask, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

"Busy," Roman exhales, turning to the bar. "We're in the middle of a global launch. Our partners are handling it, but..." He pauses, grazing his teeth against his bottom lip. He seems lost in thought. "Fuck. Tiffany is an idiot," he mutters. "Don't know why I trusted her in the first place. Everything's wrong. We're about to lose millions... And with the debts we're under... If we fuck it up—" Roman suddenly glances at me, as if remembering I'm here. "Sorry. I don't mean to bore you with work."

I reach over and grab his hand. "You're under a lot of pressure."

"I am," he agrees, flicking the menu's edge. I hate to see him worry.

"I finally googled you," I say playfully to lighten the mood.

"And?"

"Congratulations on making it to the cover of Financial Times." Roman's headshot was featured among twenty other successful businesspeople a couple of months ago.