Teaching Roman (11 page)

“I’ve got you,” he promised in a low voice and a thrill ran through me.

Gentle waves lapped against our bare skin, and moonlight reflected in his eyes. The urge to kiss him was overwhelming, but so was the urge to touch him—and here we were stuck in the middle of the ocean.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That our heads are still above water,” I whispered and then my mouth was on his. He responded with the same hungry desperation, deepening the kiss and sucking my tongue into his mouth with enough force to make me dizzy. Roman’s hand slid under my ass, the other stayed around my waist, holding me steady. He lifted me out of the water and I circled my legs around his hips, feeling has hardness pressing into my stomach. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pushed up until I was hovering over him.

“Should we?” He let the question hang in the air.

Jess Stone would have a definite opinion on going bareback in the middle of the freaking Pacific Ocean, but Jess Stone was on vacation. And all out of restraint.

“As many times as possible,” I confirmed.

Roman didn’t argue with me. My teeth sank into my bottom lip and he slipped inside me. It took some adjustment considering we were in salt water, but a few moments later, I found myself rolling my hips into his. Our mouths collided in a frenzy until Roman dropped his attention to my jawline. His tongue trailed across my chin and down the delicate skin of my throat. When he reached my collarbone, he planted kisses up to my shoulder and sunk his teeth playfully into the curve of my neck. I gasped and my body arched against his as he teased and tortured me.

He pulled away and shook his head. “I need to see you. All of you.”

I didn’t protest as he carried me out of the water. Although I was seriously impressed that he did so without breaking
contact
. He only did so when he laid me on the beach. The tide rushed around us, but the water was warm and the sand was wet—and so was I. Roman knelt beside me, running his hand along my thigh. “Mi bella, you are so perfect.” His index finger traced along the curve of my hip, up my navel, and came to rest between my breasts. “I’m pretty sure that I’m living every adolescent fantasy I ever had as a teenager.”

I spread my legs wider and blew him a kiss. “Make Past-Roman proud.”

He grinned as he dropped his mouth to my belly button. His tongue started along the path his finger had recently drawn, but in reverse. And in that moment, I was certain there was a god and heaven, because as he pressed his lips between my legs, stroking tenderly but powerfully across me with his tongue, I’d gone there. There was nothing to grab hold of on the beach, so my hands found his hair. I caught it in my fingers and held on as he continued his oral onslaught. My hips bucked against his mouth as he plunged inside me. I hoped someday he wrote a song about this, because it was worthy of musical immortality.

My muscles tightened, pleasure pooling in my core, and then it burst into a million pieces that rolled through me. Tugging him up by his hair, I wove my body around his. Roman cradled me as the final tremors quivered through me. Our eyes met and without a word, he guided himself against me, pushing inside with one quick thrust. It was almost too much, too soon. But I didn’t stop him. Despite the toe-curling orgasm he’d just given me, I needed more. More contact. More connection.

Roman rocked into me. He took his time, encouraging my body with slow, deep strokes until I felt myself swelling in anticipation once more. My eyes clenched shut and I bit into my lip.

“Jessica.” His tone coaxed me to look up at him. “There’s something I need to say. Something I’ll regret.”

But I already knew. Hooking my arm about his neck, I pulled him swiftly to my lips, stopping him before he could say it. Our bodies pressed together, working in rhythm. Skin against skin. Mouth on mouth. Heart to heart. His arms tightened around me as the first ripples trembled through my body, and then there was only Roman. His taste on my mouth, his skin on my own–we were one, body and soul in a memory that could fill a lifetime.

And I hoped it would.

C
ompared to the villa, my apartment felt small, but cozy, upon my return. Cassie was occupying our couch until the dorms opened up, and she insisted on having a best friends Christmas even though a week had passed since the blessed event. Everything was in its proper place, even Jillian, who had just returned from Christmas at home with her parents and Liam. But even though life was full here, my heart hurt. If Roman had been right—if I’d been the missing piece in his life—now he was the missing piece in mine, and I had no hope of filling the void of his absence.

Jillian flew into my bedroom so quickly that I could almost picture her bags still in the doorway to the apartment.

“Merry Christmas! I know how you love books,” she said with a wink. “I bet you didn’t do anything but read.”

I shook my head, trying to bite back a smile and failing as I read the title:
How to Survive After Being Robbed.

“Where on earth did you find this?” I asked, thumbing through the pages.

Jills plopped onto my bed. “Online. You can find a book on anything thanks to the digital revolution.”

“Thanks.” I added the book to my bedside stack. “I’ll be sure to read it if I show symptoms of PTSD.”

“It’s not fun when you go all Doctor Jess on me,” she said.

“Speaking of, how are you?” I asked, sitting beside her. “Meds? Liam? Tara?”

“Promising. More promising. And hopeless.”

“Two out of three aint’ bad.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“How was Mexico?” Somehow she managed to ask this innocently, but I knew better. Cassie and Jills has spent the whole trip texting every minute detail of what was happening between Roman and I.

“It was fun,” I said, adding, “while it lasted.”

Jills wrinkled her nose and swung a pillow at my head. “It doesn’t have to end. Unless...”

“Unless?” I prompted.

“You’re going to make up with Brett,” she said.

“You know, he isn’t a disease. You and Cassie could have mentioned that you hated him before.”

“It’s not that we hate him. We nothing him,” she explained. “It’s impossible to feel anything toward Brett, because he’s so
boring
.”

I sighed, and flashed her the five missed calls on my phone.

“Does he know that you broke up?” she asked, grabbing it and hitting my voicemail button. Normally I would have stopped her from listening to my messages, but I couldn’t bring myself to listen to what Brett had to say.

Jills erased each of them and screwed up her face. “He definitely doesn’t know.”

“He’s in denial,” I said. “I was very clear with him. I did not lead him on. Things were over-”

“Chill,” Jills stopped me. “No judgment from me, although it sounds like you feel guilty about
something
.”

“And boom goes the dynamite,” I said, falling back on my bed. She’d given me five minutes of peace before nosing around for the dirt on Roman and me.

“Come on!” She popped onto her knees and shook her folded hands.

“You don’t see me asking about your sex life.”

“One, that’s not true. You were on my ass as soon as Liam and I started dating. Two, you still owe me for not kicking him out when I asked—”

“Hold up,” I stopped her. “I think that worked out for the best.”

“Whatever. Chicks before dicks!” she said. “And three, you can hear my sex life. You know it’s fantastic. But if you want the dirt, I unwrapped my present early under the Christmas tree. Three times.”

“Merry Christmas to you,” I said.

“And a Happy New Year!”

“I suppose this means you two will be celebrating here next week,” I said.

Jillian wagged a finger at me. “No way, Jess. You aren’t going to get away with changing the subject. I want the details.”

“Fine!” I threw my hands in the air. “We had a fling and it’s over now. No big deal.” But even as I said it, a few more pieces of my heart shattered.

“You aren’t fooling me,” she said, taking my hand and holding it tightly.

Cassie sauntered into the room, carrying several bags of ornaments.

“Tree’s in the car. It is fake, so its beauty will never fade, like me, and all ornaments were 75% off. Target for the win.” She stopped when she saw Jills and I. “Who died?”

“No one,” I said, pasting a smile on my face. “We were just catching up. Did you know Jills and Liam did it under the Christmas tree?”

“I did,” Cassie informed me. “I had more time to text on our trip that you did. That story is why I bought a fake tree.”

I planted my hands on my hips and gave Jills my best
what-the-fuck
look.

“Pine needles are sharp, especially when you’re naked and getting slammed against them.”

“Ick!” I stuck my tongue out. “Are you okay?”

“I’m spectacular,” Jills said. “Believe me, I have no complaints.”

I thought of Roman and the jalapenos.

“What’s that smile?” Jills asked. “I have to know, Jess.”

“An inside joke.” But even though I tried, I couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off my face.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. But answer this. Does he use I-statements in bed?”

My cheeks reddened. I wasn’t the type to spill details about what happened behind closed doors, especially considering that they both knew Roman as somewhat of an authority figure.

“He spanks her,” Cassie said.

My eyes found the floor as my blush deepened. I was fairly certain it would never go away again.

“No freakin’ way.” Jills clapped her hands, bouncing up and down.

“Or she spanks him. All I know is that somebody’s ass is getting smacked.”

“I would
never
spill on what I heard coming from your bedrooms.” The words trembled out of my mouth.

Cassie and Jills froze, only daring one quick glance at each other.

Jills stretched toward me and grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard not to want the details. I mean–
you slept with Markson
.”

“He isn’t Markson to me, and it wasn’t some conquest,” I said, looking to Cassie. “And I thought you knew that.”

“Let’s decorate the tree,” Jills suggested.

“No thanks. I’m not feeling very festive.” I darted toward the washing machine before either of them could stop me.

But Jills wasn’t so easy to lose. She followed me in and took up residence on the dryer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s to talk about?” I asked, shoving freshly folded laundry into a basket. “It was a fling—a week of boy-catching. That’s all.”

“A week, huh?” Her lips twisted into a grim smile. “That’s more than enough time to get caught.”

“I’m not caught!” What was meant to be a stern proclamation came out a little too hysterical to be believable. What the hell was happening to me? Oh yeah, I was in love with someone who was absolutely off-limits now. Whoever said it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all was either a masochist or had a heart of steel.

“You care about him,” she said softly. Pushing her wavy hair back, she stood and walked to me. “These things have a way of working themselves out.”

My jaw clenched as I held back tears and the urge to say something hurtful to my best friend. Things had worked out for her and Liam, but that was a totally different set of circumstances. I wasn’t sure why she couldn’t see that.

“I just want to be alone,” I told her.

Jills didn’t fight me on it, but she stopped and looked at me thoughtfully. “That’s the problem. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be with him.”

E
ight weeks, 3 days, and about 3 hours and twenty minutes later, I’d made an art out of avoidance. It wasn’t like pre-med was a cakewalk. I’d had plenty to keep me distracted—study groups, MCAT guides, and to-do lists. But all the careful scheduling and planning couldn’t account for the one thing I couldn’t control: geography.

Particularly my friends’ geography. I couldn’t control where Jillian and Cassie went in Olympic Falls or on campus.

Still, when Cassie arrived in my apartment and announced she’d run into Roman, it felt like a punch in the stomach. It sucked the air from me, but I tried to hide it. I failed.

Cassie’s eyebrow arched up as she took in my shock. Tossing her purse on my couch, she asked, “Do you want to know what he said?”

I nodded. Then shook my head. Then nodded again.

“You look like a fucking bobble head,” she told me, dropping onto a barstool.

I nodded once more.

“You have chosen...wisely,” she said, playing with a crocheted potholder. “He asked how you were.”

I waited, but she didn’t continue. “And?”

“And what?” she asked. “He asked about you.”

“That’s hardly noteworthy.” I fought against a surge if disappointment. What had I expected him to ask her? In my fantasies I imagine running into him myself. I imagined a lot of things when it came to Roman.

“Well, that’s all he
said
. How he looked was a different story.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. Getting the whole story out of Cassie was about as easy as catching a greased pig. “Are you enjoying this?”

“I am. Thank you for asking.” She shot me a coy smile.

“Spill.”

“He looked hopeful and sad, and then he started to say something else, but he
hesitated
.”

“That’s it?”

“I know what he was going to say,” she said with a shrug.

“Oh, you’re psychic now. We’ll have to set up a hotline. How’s your Jamaican accent?” I crossed my arms over my chest. Then uncrossed them and dug a to-do list out of a stack on the coffee table.

“Chill, ‘mon,” she said in the worst fake accent of all time. “You’re deflecting.”

“Did you learn that in freshman psych?”

“I am a psych minor,” she reminded me. “He misses you. He was going to say he missed you.”

“Okay.” I pretended to study the list, but I couldn’t quite ignore the way my heart leapt when she said those words. Suddenly Olympic Falls didn’t seem so big or safe or far from the one thing I had to stay away from.