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.

His lips twitch as if he's fighting a cocky smile. "It's not the sexiest award, but..."

"Bummer," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'll make sure you're nominated for the sexiest man of the year next time. Who got that award this year anyway? That Ken Doll actor?"

"Yeah."

I wave him off. "Overrated."

Roman gives me the side eye. "He has six packs."

"Believe me, muscles mean nothing. I edited a few—I edited his abs actually... That razor ad?"

"Breeze for men?"

"Yeah!" I grin, crossing my arms over the bar. "Whoever picked him as the sexiest man doesn't know what they're talking about."

Roman knocks against the counter and shakes his head in a serious manner. "It's our editor in chief. Should I fire him?"

I laugh, then give him a little shrug. "Make sure to put me in the team next year. Imagine the headlines..." I glide my hand through the air. "Roman Rhode. The Sexiest Caveman Alive."

"What did you call me?"

"Nothing!" Fuck... My cheeks are on fire!

Roman's lips start quivering.

There it is! That dimpled smile I've been waiting for! Roman's grin widens as he lowers his head and lets out a deep chuckle.

Leaning forward, I touch his arm. "But seriously... The universe has been rewarding you. You're all over the news!"

"It's not the universe. Just smart marketing," he remarks.

"Sure, it's hard work... But this kind of success takes more than pure strategy," I object. "It takes—"

"Luck? Please don't tell me you believe in luck."

Of course I do! Who doesn't?

Roman's smile turns into a smirk. "What else do you believe in? Astrology? Fate? The mysterious ways of the universe?"

My jaw drops. "I do, actually. And my gut tells me that you believe in all of it too."

I don't know where my courage comes from or how words spill so easily. But something tells me Roman is a different man beyond that cocky facade. His constant frown slowly crumbles when our eyes meet.

"I believe in attraction," he confesses, tapping a finger on the counter. "We attract what we lack in our lives. But when you have everything, like me, what matters is making it truly yours. With your heart, body and soul."

It takes a while for me to grasp his words. "You mean the magazine... You want all the glory."

Roman nods with a shy smile. "I don't know what I did right, but I'm glad I attracted you, Abigail."

His words release hundreds of butterflies inside of me. I sip some water to calm my racing heart.

Does Roman feel the same way?

Our eyes meet and a fiery, amber glow flashes through his caramel irises. Roman clears his throat and grabs the menu with a ghost of a smile.

"Do you like Scotch?" he asks.

I scrunch my nose and chuckle as I shake my head. "Too strong."

"I'd like you to try some." His deep voice tingles with excitement. "You don't have to finish it if you don't like it."

When I nod, Roman relaxes his shoulders and turns to the bartender to place our order.

I never liked hard liquor. In fact, I hate everything about it—the strong smell and the way it burns my throat... But this feels like a test, and I don't want to fail it!

Once our drinks arrive, I lift my glass and catch Roman's smoldering gaze. My skin flares, and my lips itch as the amber liquid slides past them, coating my tongue in a smooth, oily layer. I usually start coughing at this point; but this time, I manage to swallow—slowly—enjoying every bitter drop. Then I set my glass back on the counter.

The air between us charges as if I just drank liquid electricity. Roman licks his lips and shifts in his place. Can he taste the sparks too?

Without warning, he reaches between my legs...

My eyes open wide. My core pulses. Is he going to touch me? Here? In the middle of the bar?

Roman's fingers brush my thighs as he grabs the edge of my chair and pulls me closer. I can't even gasp. He leans in. Like a lion. Ready to pounce on his pray.

His breath fans my wet lips. He is grinning, ever so slightly. I'm burning from head to toe with the slightest movement of his thumb against my inner thigh. With his other hand, Roman gently pinches my chin, and pulls it down.

I can't hold back anymore. Neither can Roman. Our lips collide in need. I clasp onto his wrist while Roman secures my face in his palm. His other hand lands on the small of my back and brings me to the edge of my seat. His tongue slips into our kiss—silky, cold and sweet. It's exploring every inch of my mouth, claiming me for his own.

My soul leaves my body. It must floating somewhere above us, right next to Roman's, watching us flicker and burn.

Roman slowly opens his eyes as if waking up from a dream. "Is it just me?" he whispers.

I shake my head. I feel it too. My heart is about to burst and my panties are beyond wet. I'm falling for him, and judging by the way his breath hitches, Roman has already fallen and crushed somewhere around my feet.

Roman clears his throat, quickly glancing at the lonely wolves over his shoulder. "I don't usually do this," he explains.

"What?" I smile, teasingly. "Kiss?"

Roman lets out something between a grunt and a chuckle.

"Why?" I ask, sitting back more comfortably.

Roman's fingertips trace my knuckles. "To maintain an image."

How cheesy. I roll my eyes.

Roman grabs his drink in a serious manner. "Image is everything. Partners vote for stability. The best entrepreneurs are the ones that have a clean slate. Power comes from—"

"Come on!" I burst. "Aren't you allowed to have some fun? We are talking about kissing at a bar!" I present him the cave. "We are human!"

His gaze lingers on the nearly empty glass in front of him. "I can't afford any setbacks. Not now."

"Excuse me? Am I a setback?" I chuckle. This is too funny to be true. "New headlines," I announce, all serious. "Roman Rhode, the Sexiest Kisser. Shamelessly kissed the soul out of a young woman at a bar. It sounds better than The Businessperson Of The Year, if you ask me."

But Roman isn't listening. His phone's been buzzing for a while. He fishes it out of his pants.

"Fuck." The airiness in his voice is gone, just like that.

My eyes glide to the caller's name on the screen. Tiffany Carter.

"I need to take this," Roman says dryly.

"Of course."

Roman's brows pull together in concern. "You sure?" When I give him an assuring smile, he straightens up and answers the call. "What is it?"

His frown deepens as he listens to the voice in his ear. Then letting out a sigh, he takes out his wallet and throws some cash on the counter.

"This is getting out of hand, Tiffany. You told me the distributors were ready to sign—I know!" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't you take a God-damn lawyer with you?"

This sounds important. Roman's face is ice-cold, and the lady at the other end keeps cutting him off.

"This investment—" he tries to explain. "I know, but I'm not in Tokyo! Shit... Why now?"

Roman stands up and gestures me to follow him. I tail after as we head to the door, staying a few steps behind.

"What am I supposed to do?" he yells, then lowers his voice. "It's your father's connections. Call him. Ask him to find middle ground," he hisses, exiting the bar.

The last rays of sunshine shoot directly onto our faces once we're out on the street.

Roman stops at the edge of the sidewalk. "I can't do this now, Tiffany. Call your father. If he can't handle it, let me know, and I'll jump on the next plane."

Letting out a wild grunt, Roman hangs up and lowers his phone, squeezing the life out of it. Then he throws his head back, gasping for air.

My heart aches for him—I know the feeling. He's drowning. His eyes are shut, lips pressed into a tight line.

I gently slip my hand into his. Roman clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. Then another. And another...until he finally loosens his shoulders and glances into my eyes.

"Forget you ever saw me like this," he mutters.

"How?"

"Weak." Roman puts a hand on his waist, turning away to glare at the traffic jam on Third Avenue.

"You're not weak." I step closer to him, but he's not looking at me. "Roman?" I rub his arm. His caramel eyes are now ice cold. His lips are pulling down.

"Lunch. Tomorrow," he says suddenly, straightening up.

"Okay..." I cup his cheek and offer him a sweet smile. "But I'm picking the place this time."

"Has to be close to my office."

"Done. One o'clock. Sharp," I say, imitating his firm voice.

Roman finally smiles into his chest. Then licking his lips, he looks into my eyes, and starts chuckling.

Happiness suits him. He's a different man when he loosens up. Somehow, he becomes sexier—I don't know how... Must be a caveman thing.

After all, he's Roman Rhode. The Sexiest Caveman Alive.