Teaching Roman Page 6

Emissaries of pleasure shot through my skin and burst in a single pang between my legs. Two seconds later, I had his shirt off and my teeth in him. His hand shot up and caught my wrist pinning it over my head.

  “Slow down,” he warned me. “We have all night.”

  “We have one week,” I said. His lips closed over mine and I arched into him, hooking my fingers into the back of his jeans. We made out until my lips were swollen and hot and neither of us could catch our breath. But his hands never travelled past my neck or the small of my back as though he was sticking to established safe zones.

  Roman rolled off of me, and I immediately missed the pressure of his body.

  “We’re not thinking this through,” he said between pants.

  “Is that why you won’t touch me?” I asked him. “Because I think it’s safe to say I’ve given you an all clear.”

  He shifted on to his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “That doesn’t mean I should cross the line.”

  “That’s exactly what it means,” I said.

  “Jess—” he started but I sat up and whipped off my sundress before he could finish his sentence.

  “Yes?” I prompted as my fingers unclasped my bra and let it slide off me.

  “I forgot what I was saying.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Little less conversation?”

  Roman hooked an arm around my waist and I crashed into him. Our mouths collided again, tongues tangling fiercely, as his hands ran along my bare back. I pushed him against the bed and slung my left leg over to straddle him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, staring up at me. Jess would have blushed, but Jessica grabbed his hands and placed them over her breasts.

  “Line’s crossed, governor,” I said in a British accent.

  Roman's face split into a grin. “And the ice is officially broken.”

  “I’d say the next step is that you lose those pants,” I suggested.

  He wavered for a second before he reached down to shove them off. I helped him and a moment later, only two flimsy layers of underwear separated us. My fingers found the band of his boxers, leaving only my thin panties.

  “Getting warmer,” he said.

  My hips gyrated against him, ready to lose the last boundary we had between us, but instead of rushing to pull them off, Roman urged me down to him. This time when we kissed, his hands swept lightly over my breasts, catching my nipples and rolling them between his fingertips. A whimper escaped me and he bit my lip, sending a surge of desire pulsing through my clit.

  “I want you,” I said, reaching down and grabbing him firmly, stroking and coaxing him with my fingers.

  Roman flipped me onto my back, and drew my underwear slowly off, kissing along my thighs as he returned to settle between my legs. For a split second I was Jess, who was totally self-conscious about letting a guy do that, and then his tongue flicked across my clit, wiping the thought from my mind.

  A tremble rose through me and my hands fisted the sheets as he continued to suck and kiss me until I came violently, my knees snapping against his head to bar his relentless mouth from continuing its onslaught on the now tender area. He grabbed my leg and pushed it back, kissing the soft spot on my inner thigh before his body covered mine. There was nothing between us now and I felt him—heavy and thick—between my legs. I nudged myself against him.

  “You can’t be ready for more?” he said in a low voice that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

  “Try me,” I said, reaching to the nightstand and tossing him a condom. I silently thanked Cassie for insisting on leaving some there. Thank god she was more prepared than the Girl Scouts.

  His mouth clamped over my nipple and he drew it into his mouth, sucking gently and then roughly. His teeth grazed its furl and my head collapsed onto the pillow. It felt so amazing that my legs began to rub against his thigh, trying to find a little bit of pressure.

  “More,” I cried and he bit down harder, twisting it in his mouth while I squirmed against him, my body ready for round two. My hips bucked up, trying to force him closer, but his hand snaked around and lightly smacked my ass.

  “Did you just spank me?” I asked as a strange mix of self-awareness and horniness took over.

  Roman drew back, his eyes widening. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” My fingers clutched his shoulder and jerked him back to me. “And do it again.”

  Roman’s hand lightly tapped my rear.

  “Not like that,” I breathed. He responded with a playful slap across my ass cheek that stung just enough to make me whimper.

  “If you don’t get your butt in gear and screw me, I’m going to go crazy,” I said with a frantic giggle.

  His hand massaged circles around the stinging spot. “I thought you wanted me to spank you.”

  “Maybe one more time,” I whispered.

  “Your ass is caliente, Jessica. It’s driving me crazy,” he said in a low voice as he continued to rub it. “I want to worship it. I want to write poetry about it.”

  Both of us were gasping for breath at this point. He was drawing out my pleasure, making me crazy for his touch, and I was waiting for him to release me while hoping he wouldn’t let me go.

  His fingers twitched and my breath caught, but they came to rest softly, trailing a pattern across my bare belly. I wrapped my leg around him, pressing against his hard length, urging him on. But he kissed me softly, one hand holding me steady against him, the other teasing me.

  Our eyes met and I saw myself reflected there, wild and free. I returned his kiss with force and longing. His hand thwacked my ass and I fell away from him, opening myself to him. He settled between my legs and slid inside of me. I didn’t even have time to think anything but finally before the first shudders rippled through my body.

  “Roman!” His name leapt from my lips as he held me to him, still rocking me toward a final swell of anticipation that shattered through me.

  And as we fell back against the bed, sweaty and satisfied, I realized I was totally at his mercy and completely out of control—and I never wanted it to stop.

  Chapter Ten

  We laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, neither of us speaking. Exactly what were you supposed to say when you’ve just had the most mind-blowing sex of your life with the one person you should not be screwing? Especially when it involved spanking and biting and a lot of things you’d only read about in Cosmo?

  Thank you?

  That hardly seemed appropriate, but it was certainly the most fitting thing to say.

  Roman tucked an arm under me. “So about that…”

  His words trailed off, waiting for me to respond, but I was as rattled as he was. Not only was he technically a professor, but I was technically on the rebound.

  “I don’t normally do that,” I said, but it came out in a muddled rush. My mouth was working faster than my brain. “I mean, sleep with professors or people I’m not dating or let professors or people I’m not dating bite me and spank me—and oh my god, I’m going to shut up now.”

  He popped up, resting his head on his hand and raised an eyebrow before he started to laugh. “Do you think I sleep with former students?”

  “You better not,” I said, adding a smack to his shoulder to make me sound less jealous.

  “I never have.” His voice was low and husky, and I pressed closer to him, already wanting more. “I’ve never looked at a student like that. But you—you would come to class and you always had something to say. You weren’t just skating by, trying to get an easy comm requirement out of the way. And there I was, seeing a beautiful woman three times a week—a woman who was everything I’d ever wanted— and knowing that I couldn’t even ask her out. But you got under my skin, Jessica Stone.”

  And into his pants. What was I thinking? My options were pretty limited. Could we just put this behind us and pretend it never happened? What if I didn’t want to do that? Because I’d wanted Markson since the first time I’d seen him. Now that I could hav
e him, would a week really be enough? “This really isn’t like me,” I repeated. “I never”—

  “Stop,” he said. “I don’t go for one night stands. I know you aren’t the type, which is one of the reasons that I couldn’t stop myself when you kissed me.”

  “What if I kissed you now?” I asked, biting my lip. Apparently I wasn’t going with the put-this-behind-us route. Nope, I definitely wanted to head down the do-it-again path.

  “If we’re going another round, I’m going to have to eat something first and possibly stretch.” Roman brushed his lips over mine and vaulted out of bed. I couldn’t help but watch his tight, perfect ass as he bent to pick up his pants. He didn’t look like he needed to stretch to me.

  “Don’t,” I said as he began to pull them on.

  “I’m not sure Cassie wants to see me in my birthday suit.”

  He was selling himself short. All women the world over wanted to see him naked.

  His mouth quirked up into a crooked grin, and I felt the familiar tick of my clit. I was ready to go again and it took all my willpower to clamp my thighs shut and let him walk out of the room.

  Tumbling out of bed, I discovered my legs had turned to jelly—all wobbly and shaking and glorious. I fished through the clothes Cassie had given me until I found a long tank top that mostly covered my ass and headed out to find him rummaging in the fridge.

  “This is a really nice place,” Roman said as I came into view. The fridge light framed his muscular silhouette, accenting the hard, but graceful curves of his abs and biceps. “You don’t have much food though.”

  He was right. We’d picked up a dozen or so bottles of wine and one good bottle of tequila when we were out and nothing else.

  “Cassie says we’re on the liquid break-up diet. This place is courtesy of Cassie’s ex-boyfriend,” I admitted. I lounged back against the counter, unable to close the gap between Roman and I.

  Roman swung the fridge door shut and turned to me, hooking an arm around my waist and drawing me to him. “Her ex seems….charitable.”

  “We’ll see if that’s true when he gets the bill.”

  “It sounds like there’s a story there,” he said.

  I tried to focus on our conversation, but with him this close I was having a hard time concentrating. “There is.”

  “Will Cassie be okay if you leave her?” he asked me.

  “Probably. I think she's suffering more from a broken heart than alcohol.” But even as I said it, I remembered I needed to check on her.

  “Sounds like she's trying to drink it off,” he said.

  “Yeah. He royally fucked up.” Guilt started to filter through my post-orgasmic haze. Poor Cassie was in the next room, trying to heal her wounded heart and I was nailing Roman. In the last five years I’d had one bad break-up. It was years ago, but even thinking about it turned my stomach over. I wasn’t going to be winning any friend of the year awards.

  Roman’s head tilted and he regarded me in a thoughtful way. “I’m starving. Your best friend is drunk. I have no choice but to go out and procure food.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ve totally got this,” I said quickly, embarrassed that he felt the need to take care of me. I could see where he’d gotten the idea that I needed help. So far I’d been robbed at the airport and been blackmailed into paying off a street vendor. I really could take care of myself and Cassie. I just hadn’t had the chance to yet.

  He raised an eyebrow, a smile dancing in his eyes. “I know you’re a strong, independent woman. Which is why I’m offering to go to the market and get right back to being barefoot in the kitchen.”

  “Where you belong?” My lips twitched at the idea of Roman cooking for me.

  “Mi bella—” Roman leaned forward and trailed a finger along my jaw—“I cook better than I screw.”

  Oh. Holy. Fuck.

  “Y-y-yeah,” I stammered. “Groceries would be great.”

  A smug grin took up residence on Roman’s face as he pulled his shirt on and buttoned it. It was like the exact opposite of Christmas morning, as if he was rewrapping my presents and taking them away, and it left me feeling flustered and anxious and disappointed. But after he slipped on his sandals he caught my hand and drew me to him. Roman pressed his lips to mine, lingering long enough that my mouth parted in welcome to him. His tongue flicked across the bow of my upper lip, but then he pulled back, leaving me breathless.

  “Una semana,” he whispered before he disappeared out the patio door.

  I didn’t need a translation. It wasn’t simply a reminder though, it was a promise. A promise that we didn’t have to rush. That we didn’t have to hold back. That there was more to come. At least, for one week.

  Chapter Eleven

  The beach behind our villa was fairly deserted the next afternoon, which meant it was quiet enough for me to read. If I could get lost in a textbook maybe I could forget what had happened with Roman last night. A few hours of sleep had cleared my head, reminding me that starting something with him was a terrible idea. First, he was a teacher. Second, I had just broken up with Brett. Third, he was a teacher!

  I told myself to chill, but while that command usually worked on Jillian and Cassie, I couldn’t swallow it myself. We were both consenting adults. We’d gone to bed together. We weren’t hurting anyone.

  Yet.

  This whole thing had heartbreak written all over it, which is why it would be better if una semana turned into una noche. We’d had one spectacular night together, why ruin it by dragging things out for a week?

  “Why are you smiling?” Cassie asked, a note of suspicion in her voice. She’d slept until late morning, and Roman had been long gone before she got up. Keeping last night to myself was not only the smart move, but it would prevent her teasing me all day long.

  I shrugged. “I do remember some high school Spanish.”

  Despite our lack of beach chairs, the sand was soft, hot, and welcoming beneath me as I settled down with Cell Biology and Genetics. Cassie stripped off her sundress, revealing a tiny bandeau bikini top and something that barely qualified as bottoms.

  “Aren’t you going to put sunscreen on?” I asked her.

  She raised an eyebrow over the rim of her sunglasses. “No, Dr. Stone, I’m not. I wanted to get some sun, remember?”

  I could hear the challenge in her words. She suspected I wanted to give her a lecture on skin cancer, but I knew she was trying to pick a fight. Cassie had some rage building up inside her, and I suspected I knew why.

  “Have you talked to Trevor?” I asked, switching topics to what I knew was on her mind.

  “Absolutely not. I’m not even sure I can get service down here.” She shrugged like she didn’t care and rolled onto her stomach on the beach towel.

  I knew she was lying. We’d both texted Jillian earlier to touch base with her, and we were probably going to get smacked with some serious roaming charges, too. But we definitely got service down here, which meant Trevor hadn’t called or texted. Because Trevor was an ass. Reminding her of that wouldn’t put her in a better mood though.

  “When did you talk to him last?”

  Her voice was muffled by the sound of rolling waves. “Let’s see, when I was throwing his shoes at him.”

  She’d left that part out of her story before. Of course, her initial version was a barely coherent string of curses punctuated by sobs. “You threw his shoes at him?”

  “And his pants and his shirt and a lamp.”

  “A lamp?” I couldn’t help but be impressed. Apparently Cassie had a little bark behind her bite.

  “He’s a piece of shit,” Cassie said. “I would have kept throwing things at him but I decided I was above it. Right now, I’d rather just enjoy the fucking sun and not think about the son of a bitch.”

  “Fair enough.” I flipped my textbook back open and uncapped my highlighter.

  “You are in the middle of fucking paradise and you’ve got your nose stuck in a book.” She hadn’t even r
olled over to confirm this, she just knew me that well.

  “I can’t get behind.”

  “The semester hasn’t even started yet. You just aced your finals. Take a break.”

  “Think of it this way. I have to get ahead,” I explained.

  “How’s the view from up there?” she asked. “You’re soooo far ahead of me! Is it sunny?”

  “Looking good.” I smiled to myself as I found the spot I’d bookmarked.

  “Too bad you’re missing the view from right now.”

  “That’s deep,” I told her absently. “You should write a book. I bet you could give Deepak Chopra a run for his money.”

  Cassie giggled as she laid her head on her arms, which were already kissed with sun. No doubt she’d look like a beach goddess by the time we headed back to Washington. I pulled my beach hat further down to keep my nose from burning. I wasn’t born to tan. I was born to freckle and roast.

  “So what happened last night? How did I get back?” Cassie asked in a soft voice. I heard the reservation in it as if she didn’t really want to know.

  “Don’t remember, huh?” I tossed my textbook on my towel, abandoning it for a minute to have a much needed heart-to-heart with my best friend. Even with the cushion of sand, it thumped ominously.

  “Uh-oh. Jess put down her book. This can’t be good.” She rolled to her side to look at me. Her gaze tentatively probed my face for confirmation.

  “You gave Jillian some competition in the drama department,” I told her.

  “That bad?”

  “You ripped apart about twenty magazines at a bodega.”

  “Why would I do that?” she asked in a confused tone.

  “They were bridal magazines mostly.”

  Cassie’s face disappeared in her towel as she wrapped her arms around her head. I suppose I had to wait on my lecture until she resurfaced. After a few minutes, she sat up, facing me. “Go ahead.”

  “Go ahead and what?”

  “Lecture me,” she said. “I deserve it.”

  “I’m not going to lecture you,” I lied. It wasn’t as satisfying when she called me out on my intentions in advance.