Teaching Roman (9 page)

“I’m suggesting you have fun and let what happens happen,” she said gently. “You know my mantra:
I am a badass. I deserve better. I will demand more.
And honey, Roman is the definition of
more.
I mean, honestly, how long have you wanted to bone him?”

“You did not just say
bone him
.”

“I’m fluent in adolescent male,” she said with a shrug. “Stop avoiding my question.”

“Since last year, I guess.” I didn’t add that I could probably give her an exact number of days, minutes, and hours. Of course, judging from her triumphant smirk, I didn’t have to.

“Since you
saw him
, and that was before he opened his mouth and turned out to be your intellectual equal. Let’s face it, Jess, you have a sweater vest fetish.”

“And the fact that he’s smokin’ hot—tall, dark, and handsome—
and
speaks Spanish doesn’t hurt.”

“I speak Spanish,” a deep, husky voice said behind us, “but you wouldn’t be talking about me, right?”

I sat up straight to find Roman hovering in the entry. He’d left his dark hair wild and it waved carelessly behind his ears. He’d shaved though, which would have been a disappointment, except that when a smile lit across his face as our eyes met, I caught a dimple. How was it possible that he could be even sexier? At least he was dressed down in a gray, fitted t-shirt and khaki shorts. It matched my own breezy, blue sun dress and flip flops.

“I told you that you were overdressed,” I said, turning on Cassie.

“Not for the clubs.” She continued to tug on a heel, but I grabbed her arm.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

She grinned sweetly, displaying her perfect teeth and the Disney princess smile that didn’t match up with her sailor mouth. “It’s tequila night.”

“Every night is tequila night here. This is a terrible idea,” I said. “Remember the last time you had tequila? You almost got arrested.”

“I actually don’t remember,” she said with a wink. “But I bet you two do. Isn’t that the magical night that brought you two together? If it wasn’t for me and tequila, you wouldn’t be playing pop quiz in the doorway.” Cassie sauntered out of the room, flashing a coy smirk to Roman as she passed. “I should get more credit for my matchmaking.”

“Trouble-maker,” I muttered under my breath as I followed her out.

“At least this time I’ll be around to chaperone.” Roman slung an arm over my shoulder and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “How much trouble could she get in?”

I didn’t answer him, because I was pretty sure he didn’t actually want to know.

––––––––

T
he tequila burned down my throat and I dropped the shot glass back on the bar. It landed with a plonk that reverberated through my already fuzzy brain as Cassie pushed another toward me. I held up my hand, waving off the offer. “No more.”

“C’mon,” she coaxed, handing me another lime. “One more for me, doll.”

“I think I’m dying,” I moaned. I’d lost count of the shots and the margaritas she had foisted on me. At this point, I was seriously considering retracting her best friend status.

“Maybe that’s enough,” Roman suggested lightly, but Cassie glared at him. Lesser men had withered under her gaze, but Roman only raised his eyebrows. He’d been a good sport so far, going along with the night of debauchery she’d inflicted on both of us. Probably since he knew, as I did, that we were doing penance for not being upfront with her regarding the shift in our relationship.

“Do you want to have a best friend tomorrow?” My words spluttered from me, and I wiped at the sweaty strands of hair that stuck to my forehead. It was too hot in here. I needed air, and I definitely need a reprieve from the tequila.

Cassie didn’t seem eager to grant me either. “One more and I’ll give you your fucking, get-out-of-jail-free card.”

I groaned as I raised the shot glass to my lips. My hands trembled, my throat already constricting at the thought of another drop of liquor, but I forced myself to shoot it. Roman scooped the glass from my hands, setting it down just in time to catch me as I attempted to stand up from my barstool. I swayed on unsteady feet, but his grip was steady and he held me closely to him. This was definitely not in our one week plan. Rescuing your drunk lover definitely fell into girlfriend/boyfriend territory, and we were neither.

“I don’t feel so good.” Clutching my stomach, I choked back the tequila threatening to exit out its point of entry.

“We should get her back.” There was a firmness to Roman’s proclamation that not even Cassie could question.

She led the way, pushing through the crowds of coeds enjoying the overcrowded tourist bar. Cassie’d matched me shot for shot, but even with my head swimming and my eyes seeing double, I saw no sign that she was suffering the same ill effects of four hours of hard drinking. When we reached the street I expected to feel relief, but the fresh air made my stomach roll over and twist.

“Just a couple of blocks.” Roman tried to sound soothing, but right now the only thing that could comfort me was the thought of unconsciousness.

“And then I can die?” I slurred.

“You’re not dying,” Cassie said.

I think I said I seriously doubted that, but I couldn’t really tell what words were actually making it out of my mouth anymore. Fighting the urge to collapse on the pavement, I made it back to the villa. At the door Roman lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bathroom.

I was wrong. Being in his arms was very
comforting
.

Unfortunately I was about to upchuck all over him.

“Go away.” I shooed him toward the door, but the movement sent me over the edge and I lunged for the toilet.

“Like hell.” A soft hand swept the hair off my neck and held it back.

Here I was, praying to the porcelain god in front of Roman Markson—poet, professor, exceptional lover. If tonight didn’t kill me, my embarrassment tomorrow probably would. Right now, though, I could only focus on one thing. When I sat back on my heels a few minutes later, tears swam in my eyes.

“Do you want to go into the bed?” he asked gently.

I shook my head. I was pretty sure there was a repeat performance of my recent stomach evacuation coming.

Roman laughed and dropped down beside me, leaning over to plant a kiss on the top of my head. Lines blurred around me, and not just the tile on the wall. This was not happening. Except I couldn’t really understand what was happening. Even in my booze saturated brain I knew the fundamentals—who, what, when, where. The
why
was what eluded me. Roman with his sinfully good looks could be out with any woman tonight or, at least, be enjoying an uneventful night back home.

I rested my head on the cabinet next to me. The wood felt cool and welcome on my feverish skin. “Since I’m dying I can tell you that I have liked you forever.”

That had most certainly come out of my mouth, but Roman only grinned.

“Would it jeopardize your view of my professionalism if I said the same?”

I nodded. “I was your student.”

Why the hell had I said that? Damn Cassie and her tequila. It was like she’d force fed me truth serum. I couldn’t keep all the stupid thoughts in my head from tumbling out.

“You were,” he said, “but I’m just a student, too, remember?”

There were those blurred lines again. He was a student, but he was a PhD student. I hadn’t memorized the student code of conduct, but I was pretty sure we’d broken a few of the university’s rules already. Jess would have cared about that, but
Jessica
Stone was drunk. She was in Mexico, and...

She was definitely about to throw up again.

When Roman finally carried me to bed, the world around me was spinning. But even as I squeezed my eyes shut and willed it to stop, one thing was clear. Roman wasn’t going anywhere. Thankfully I was too drunk for that fact to seep in as he climbed into bed beside me.

Tomorrow I wouldn’t be drunk, but I had a feeling that I’d still be confused.

D
espite being forced to hold back my hair all night, I found a note from Roman on the pillow when I finally rose from the dead late the next morning. Lunch at his place.

That might be a problem.

I swung my legs slowly out of bed, testing my feet as if I was at sea. To my surprise I didn’t feel terrible. Thirsty? Yes. In need of a shower? Definitely. But I wasn’t dead, and although my recollection of the previous evening was questionable, that seemed like rather good news.

After a shower I felt downright human again. Of course if there was one thing I’d learned being best friends with Jillian and Cassie for years, it was that a night spent over the toilet meant less pain in the morning. I tried to push the fact that Roman had been there to witness my one woman vomitorium out of my head.

Cassie was snoring in her bed, so I left her a threatening note and headed out. I could only hope that her own bad choices would be biting her in the ass when she finally rolled out of bed.

Roman’s grandmother lived a few blocks away in a tiny house that sat overlooking the beach. The front door was unlocked, so I let myself in per Roman’s instructions. I found him the kitchen, surrounded by tomatoes and peppers.

“Are you cooking for me?” I asked, popping a slice of tomato in my mouth.

“Yes,” he said, planting a swift kiss on my lips before returning to his work. The kiss lingered there, growing warmer and spreading down my neck and arms, coming to rest in my belly. “If you’re feeling up to it.”

My stomach rumbled loudly enough to answer for me, and he laughed.

“Where’s Aba?” I asked.

“Siesta.” He tilted his head down the hall. “Don’t worry she sleeps like the dead.”

So, like me last night.

I pushed myself up onto the counter to watch him. He flipped a pepper onto a cutting board and expertly sliced it up, removing all the seeds. Even the slight chopping movements were enough to tense the long, sinuous muscles in his arms. He kept his chocolate brown eyes on the food, but I knew they’d be looking at me later, stripping me down and watching me writhe beneath him.

I blew out and tried to get my mind off of getting him into bed. I’d achieved horniness levels better suited to a teenage boy.

It was the time limit, I was sure of it. We had so little time together before it was back to normal life.

One more day. The thought sat like a lump in my stomach and try as I might I couldn’t pretend it didn’t leave an ache in my chest.

I ignored it, and wagged a finger at Roman.

“We’ll never eat if you distract me,” he said, but even as he did, he turned toward me. Pushing my thighs apart he leaned against the counter and grabbed my hips, pulling my ass to the edge so that my crotch was pressed against the buckle of his pants.

“Appetizer?” I breathed. I needed to feel his hands on me. It was the only way to erase the panic I felt about leaving us behind in Mexico.

“You’re a bad girl,” he said, his lip curving mischievously as his hands slid up my bare legs and under my sundress.

“So bad,” I murmured as my mouth found his. His stubble scratched along my chin as he forced open my mouth, his tongue plunging inside and withdrawing immediately. I moaned as he bit down on my lower lip and sucked it gently between his teeth. My legs widened and his erection pressed against my panties, my hips circling against him in encouragement. His hand crept further up my dress, settling between my thighs and pushing aside the thin fabric covering me. His thumb found my clit and he pressed against it, causing my back to arch. I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to get too loud in the kitchen.

“It’s like a fun button,” he whispered, his lips dropping kisses along my neck.

“That’s exactly what it is.” Removing my legs from his waist, I propped my feet on the counter and raised an eyebrow. “Let’s see what happens if you keep pressing it.”

Roman dropped down and ran his tongue along my thigh, while his fingers massaged me. My desire ignited into a frenzy, building slowly as he worked my clit with slow, deep strokes before he slid a finger inside me. My body was in flames, desperate for him.

“I want you,” I groaned, barely able to produce words.

He pulled away from me and unzipped his jeans. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him roughly to me and crushing my mouth to his. He grabbed my hips and angled my ass to meet his thrusts as our lips stayed greedily pressed together.

He stroked in and out as my body burned for him.

I was on fire for him.

And he realized the same thing about the same time. We were both on fire. Literally.

“Holy shit!” I screamed as he threw me over his shoulder and bounded down the hall to the bathroom.

“What...the...”  My words came out in pants as he started the shower.

“Peppers,” he said through gritted teeth.

This is what I got for interrupting him while he was cooking. We jumped in even though the water was cold and Roman grabbed for the soap, washing his hands and then running it over my backside and between my legs.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded as my teeth chattered and my vag burned. It was the single most embarrassing moment of my life, which seemed to be the theme of this vacation, but unlike being walked in on by Cassie—twice—right now I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. It spilled out of me and infected Roman. We washed each other, cracking up, and making bad puns under the cold shower.

“That was some hot sex,” he said.

“I was burning for you,” I added with a laugh.

By the time the fire down below started to quell, our fingers and toes were shriveled. Shutting off the water, Roman peeked past the shower curtain.

“Hold on,” he said, jumping out.

I clutched the curtain and watched him disappear into the hall, dripping wet and stark naked. Reappearing he held out a towel.

“Here.” He opened it and wrapped it around my shoulders as I stepped out. He dried me off before he wrapped his own arms around my waist and buried his face in my hair.

In that moment it didn’t matter that half my body was raw from capsaicin burns. Time slowed down as I caught sight of the mirror, reflecting two people who had somehow moved from fuck buddies to being in love. I froze as the realization shook through me.