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The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Roman had told you that he would be home late, something about getting caught up with the guys, helping one of them move or some shit. It didn’t matter, you were too busy focusing on work to properly listen anyway.
That was the perfect summary for the past 2 weeks. Everything Roman wanted to do, from sex to just plain old cuddling in bed was shut down by you. But it wasn’t your fault. He understood that you had a deadline, and he had agreed to wait patiently for you to get finished with whatever you had going on with work.
Deep down though, it was taking a toll on him.
He was pent up. Bad. Chronic touch deprivation and attachment issues mixed with your recent dismissiveness of him made him sexually frustrated. Luckily for Roman, but not so much for you, today was February 14th, Valentine’s Day. No way he would let you snake your way out of this one.
As you followed the trail of rose petals from the front door to the bedroom, Roman waited behind the bedroom door. He leaned against the wall silently, watching as you inspected the bouquet of flowers, heart-shaped box of chocolates, and the thin white box with the name of a french company written in gold, cursive font on the front.
Roman came out from behind you, his arms encircling your waist. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling that scent he had missed so damn much.
“Welcome home, baby.” He murmured, voice low and husky, “I’ve been waiting for you all damn day…”
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