Teaching Roman (6 page)

“It was work stuff. Apparently, I don’t know how to take time off from school.”

I raised my glass in a toast. “I hear that. I plan to spend most of my time here hiding my textbooks from Cassie so she doesn’t take them away.”

Roman laughed at this and shook his head. “But you're on vacation. I come here all the time. It isn't vacation when it's home.”

“It’s still your semester break. There’s no reason you need to be reading either!” My words rushed out in a jumble. I’d begun to tremble and it had nothing to do with the cool breeze wafting up from the ocean and everything to do with the insanely sexy man standing next to me.

He held a hand up in surrender. “I’m not judging. I just hope that you have a good time. I know you’ve been really stressed out the last few weeks. I know you were worried about Jillian.”

Of course, he wasn’t being judgmental. That wasn’t Roman’s style

“Sorry. I get a lot of shit for being so focused on med school and graduation.” It was hard enough to explain why I wanted to spend another five years in school let alone that I needed to be prepping for those years right now. Class for Cassie and Jess existed on a period by period and semester by semester schedule. Neither of them planned to go farther than getting their B.A. I couldn’t blame them for that, but I also couldn’t explain to them why I had to be looking so far ahead all the time.

But Roman only snorted at this. “With this job market, most of them will wind up in graduate school.”

“Speaking from experience?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t call Interpersonal Communication my calling.” He shrugged and took a sip of his wine, his lips lingering on the rim, long enough to make me jealous of the glass.

“What is?”

He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head.

“Come on,” I pleaded.

“Poetry,” he said finally.

“Really?” I couldn’t quite imagine buttoned-up Roman Markson as a poet.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“Watch your I-statements,” I reminded him, tapping his solid chest with my index finger. My body responded to the slight touch, aching for me to step closer to him, but I ignored the urge. “What kind of poetry?”

“Actually it’s song writing for the most part,” he said. “Hence why I’m in grad school.”

“Write a lyric.”

His eyebrow cocked up. “Right now?”

I nodded eagerly, and he set his wine down next to mine on the table. His gaze drifted out toward the ocean and back to me.

“Ojos de estrella y hilos de oro,” he said in an accent that was as deep as it was intoxicating.

“What does that mean?”

He paused before he spoke as though he was considering what to tell me. “Eyes of stars and strands of gold.”

There was something electric in the air, charged by his words and it took all my willpower to look unaffected by him. The problem was that he had always affected me, and here I didn’t feel the same self-restraint I did on campus.

“So Professor Markson is secretly a rockstar?” I asked.

“Rockstar? No,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not even a professor technically. I don’t have my PhD.”

“And what should students call you?” I asked, my voice dropping suggestively.

“Mr. Markson. Professor Markson. I don’t really care.” Even as he tried to stay on topic, his eyes flickered to my mouth. I felt them linger there and I licked my lips, imagining his mouth finding mine.

“So what should I call you?” I said.

“I’ve told you that before. You can call me Roman.”

“Is that appropriate?” I drew out the words until they sounded anything but appropriate.

“Jess.” My name was a warning on his lips. His perfect, kissable lips.

Maybe it was that I’d spent most of my life doing what I was supposed to do, listening when people told me that I was headed for trouble, or maybe the Jess that usually heeded such warnings was on vacation too, but nothing short of an act of god was going to keep me away from those lips. When I wrapped my hand around the back of Roman’s neck, he didn’t resist.

There was a moment of hesitation. One split second where the whole world faded into the background and there was nothing but the heat of his breath and the tingle of anticipation shivering through my body—and then our mouths crushed together. Roman’s hand cupped my chin as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past my lips. It massaged mine with deep, languid strokes, releasing a spasm of desire between my legs. My body reacted instinctively moving closer to him, my left leg wrapping slightly around his to ease some of the ache I felt.

Roman drew back, breaking the kiss but keeping our bodies entwined. We were both panting, and his eyes blazed greedily even as he tried to be rational. “We can’t do this.”

Suddenly I was channeling Cassie. “We’re in Mexico.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m an instructor at your university.” But his fingers trailed along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to rest on my collarbone.

“You’re only four years older than me,” I reminded him, “and we’re in Mexico.”

“I grew up in Mexico,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m afraid it’s less exotic to me.”

“Mexico is the new Vegas." My mouth curved into a smile, but I didn’t relax my grip on his neck.

“And that means?” His eyes were searching mine, clearly hoping I could rationalize us into what was a big mistake by both our standards.

“What happens in Mexico, stays in Mexico,” I promised him.

His chest heaved as though something dangerous was trapped inside of him and it was fighting to get out. “How long are you in Mexico?”

“One week,” I whispered.

“I..” He hesitated and I knew he was thinking of all the reasons we shouldn’t do this.

“One week—no rules,” I said, “and then we’ll go back to Washington and no one will ever know.”

“Except us,” he said, his words thick with meaning.

We would know, but we were adults. Adults had flings. Adults moved on. “Except us.”

“One week.” His words were an agreement, sealed by his lips as they closed over mine.

R
oman carried me through the patio doors, not breaking our kiss, and ran into very little furniture considering it was pitch black but for the moonlight. Meanwhile I explored the undiscovered territory under his shirt. My fingers traveled along his abs, pushing his shirt up until my hands landed on a set of cut pectorals, dusted with hair that I wanted to twist my fingers through. Before I realized what I was doing, I’d pulled away from his lips nipped into the rock hard flesh. Roman let out a surprised yelp, but when I dared to look him in the eye, his were blazing.

“You like that, Jessica?” he growled, and my hips bucked closer to him involuntarily.

“I guess I do,” I said, but it came out more like a purr. Not only did I like it, I wanted to do it again. Almost as much as I wanted him to throw me down on the bed or slam me into a wall.

Jess was a good girl in bed. She had two tried and true positions. She never bothered with lingerie or props. She came half of the time and faked the other half so she didn’t hurt Brett’s feelings. Jess thought sex was okay.

But Jessica, it seemed, had an entirely different outlook on sex. She didn’t have a list of approved positions or acceptable sexual acts. Jessica wanted to sink her teeth into Roman and go all night. I didn’t know this Jessica, but I immediately liked her.

I felt like someone else with Roman’s arms wrapped around my body and when he kissed me senseless, I responded with the frenzy of a pent-up animal. Digging my nails into his skin, I smashed my lips against his, running my tongue along the back of his teeth like I’d imagined. My hands tangled into his hair, and Roman moaned against my mouth, his hands tightening on my ass. His lips fell to my throat as he trailed kisses up my neck, stopping at my ear. His breath was heavy and hot as he asked, “Are you sure about this?”

Catching his chin in my hand, I brought his gaze to meet mine and then kissed him hard on the mouth. “Positive. Now take me to bed.”

He didn’t need further prodding. A second later, he released me onto the bed and I fell back against the pillow just as he swooped over me. He hovered close enough that his body skimmed mine, and I dropped my legs open, allowing him to settle against me. We were still fully clothed, but every inch of me burned for him, and the fire smoldered through my limbs, pooling in my core.

Roman’s mouth traced down my jaw and then he caught my earlobe between his teeth.

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 official 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 of 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, and 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.