ALLIE FORGOT ALL the reasons she wanted nothing to do with Roman under the slow slide of his tongue. He tasted her pussy as if he’d been years without it and wanted to imprint every last detail on his memory. She bit back a cry and covered her mouth with one hand even as her other laced through his hair and pressed his face closer to her.
His dark chuckle vibrated over her clit, nearly sending her to outer space. What was he doing to her? She didn’t act like this. She didn’t screw strangers, and she definitely didn’t let a man she was pretty sure she didn’t like give her oral while in clear view of anyone who happened by.
He pushed two fingers into her and zeroed in on her clit, sucking and then flicking it with his tongue in a rhythm she couldn’t have fought even if she wanted to. His fingers deep inside her circled that sensitive spot and he mirrored the movement with his tongue, driving her ruthlessly over the edge. Her hand muffled her cry, but only barely. Allie slumped against the tree and watched him press his forehead to her stomach as if trying to get control of himself.
As if fighting not to rise and drive that glorious cock into her right then.
Finally, he helped her get her foot back into her yoga pants and stepped back while she righted her clothing. Roman didn’t speak, didn’t look at her, and she couldn’t help the dip of disappointment deep in her stomach.
Allie took a fortifying breath and turned for the bar. She needed a drink and to get the hell out of there. She could smell him on her skin, and between that and the orgasm, she was having a hard time remembering why Roman was off-limits.
So off-limits that I just had his mouth all over me.
She managed one step before a hand closed around her arm. Allie looked back, waiting to see what he’d do. Roman finally cursed and released her. “We need to talk, Allie. Actually talk.”
Disappointment warred with righteous anger. “Wrong. As I’ve said half a dozen times already—I am on vacation.” Her orgasm-induced high brought more words. “On the other hand, if you want this.” She motioned to herself. “Then that’s something we can negotiate.” At the look on Roman’s face, Allie almost took the offer back.
He stepped closer. “You want to separate business and pleasure.”
“Business and pleasure should always be separate.” She lifted her chin, half-amazed at how brazen she was being, but it wasn’t as if she had anything to lose. Roman wasn’t going to give up—the limited interactions she’d had with him up to this point reinforced that belief—and she also wasn’t going to back down. They could either blow off some steam here on the island before they got back to her dodging his calls and his trying to buy her business out from under her, or they could go their separate ways now.
There was no happy medium. Not for them.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I can’t promise that. The timeline is too tight and—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut in. “If you can’t promise you won’t talk about business, then don’t talk at all.”
That delicious muscle in his jaw ticked. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is. It’s exactly that simple.”
Roman stared at her long enough that she had to fight not to squirm. He smiled, the expression doing nothing to quell the urge. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What?”
“I don’t have to make any deals with you, Allie.”
Again, disappointment tried to take over. She fought it back down, but she was less successful this time. She had to make a conscious effort not to let her shoulders dip or her spine bend. “And why’s that?”
“Because you want me as much as I want you.” He traced a single finger down her throat and over her sternum. “You want me so badly, if I crooked my finger, you’d be back at my villa, naked and coming on my cock. You say you’ll draw the line in the sand, and that’s fine, but you’ll be fighting yourself more than you’ll be fighting me to keep from crossing it.”
Her growing anger was almost a welcome relief. Allie knew how to be angry. She didn’t let it control her, but most of her successes in life could be chalked up to doing things out of spite. A trailer trash girl from upstate New York couldn’t go to college? Like hell she couldn’t—and she’d get the majority of it paid for while she was in the process with volleyball scholarships. Having a forward-thinking women’s-only gym that paired with a women’s shelter was unconventional? Sure, it was. But that wasn’t going to stop her from going for it full throttle.
Roman thought he could sit back, kick up his heels and let the lure of his cock draw her in after she’d laid out her terms?
Not fucking likely.
She pushed his hand away from her. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
She wanted to smack that smug look off his face, but that wasn’t how she operated. She stepped back and then stepped back again. “The terms are what they are. If you can’t respect that, stay the hell away from me.”
He blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her response. “Allie—”
“No, you will not ‘Allie’ me as if I’m being irrational. I want you. We both know it. What you don’t seem to be able to wrap your brain around is that while you might be ruled by your cock, I am more than capable of making decisions that aren’t based in sex.” She forced herself to turn around and walk away from him. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she picked up her pace and made her way back into the lantern light now illuminating the bar area. Becka turned away from the handsome bartender and raised her eyebrows. “You look like you’ve been up to no good.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She took the bar stool next to her friend and downed the tequila shot waiting for her without hesitation.
“That was mine,” Becka said mildly.
“I’ll get you the next one.” She shook her head. “What am I saying? They’re included.” She’d lost her damn mind. There was no other explanation for how she was acting—like a horny teenager who didn’t care what was at stake as long as she got hers. Allie was better than that. She had to be.
The bartender poured them each another shot and set a fresh margarita in front of Allie. “Ring the bell if you need me.”
“Sure thing, sweetie.” Becka barely waited for him to walk out of eyesight before she swung around to face Allie. “Explain yourself. I didn’t think you needed assistance, but I can’t tell if you’ve been in a fistfight or fucking against a tree.”
Allie’s face flamed. “We didn’t have sex.”
“But you did something against a tree.” She shook her head. “For a woman who says you despise that man, you are having a hell of a time keeping your hands off him.”
She started to protest, but what was the point? Allie could chalk up the night before to her not knowing who he was, but she didn’t have that excuse this time. She knew who Roman was and why he was here, and she’d still stuck her hand down his pants. “I get around him and my rational brain shuts off. It’s like I have a lady Neanderthal in there, and she’s decided she really likes the look of Roman and wants to bang his brains out and to hell with the consequences.”
“This is a new thing for you.” Becka downed her shot and set the glass on the bar with a faint clink. “It’s disconcerting, huh? To have rational Allie who follows all the rules overrun by the hindbrain.”
That was exactly it. She kept saying she didn’t do things like this, but only because it was the truth. Back in New York, Allie never would have laid down the offer she’d just given Roman. She wouldn’t have gone home with him in the first place. She glared at her tequila shot. “I think they pump something into the air on this island to make people act irrational.”
“Or maybe...just maybe—” Becka nudged the shot into her hand “—it might possibly be that you’ve been wound so tightly for a seriously long time that the first situation that arose where no one was depending on you, you let yourself live a little. You don’t have to play whipping girl about this, Allie. It’s okay to want him.”
But it wasn’t okay.
She didn’t know how to reconcile the person she was back home and the woman she was acting like here. “I’m not supposed to want him. Anyone but him.”
“Ah.” Becka nodded and took a long drink of the pink thing in front of her. “I don’t have an easy answer for that. You going to his place tonight?”
“No.” She might want him more than she had a right to, but that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want to talk business with him—or, rather, fight about business. If he couldn’t agree to that bare minimum, then the pleasure wasn’t worth the pain.
She just had to keep reminding herself of that.
* * *
Roman didn’t sleep well. Every noise brought him fully awake, sure that Allie had changed her mind. He knew she wouldn’t. She had drawn that line in the sand and she was stubborn enough not to cross it. He might have bullshit her yesterday, but he knew the truth.
The ball was in his court.
He woke early and attended the sunrise yoga class. There were a few people there he didn’t recognize, but neither Allie nor Becka showed up. It was a relief to turn off his mind for a bit, but the feeling lasted until he walked into the tiny business center and went through the irritating process of checking his email.
Aaron had come through for him.
Roman stared at the document for a long time before he printed it. Even if he decided to take Allie up on her offer, he still had his eye on the prize for when they got back to New York. That meant he needed the deeper research so he could figure out how to play this. They were down to the wire.
It wasn’t completely his fault, but that didn’t change the bottom line.
He gathered the papers, double-checked to make sure the document hadn’t downloaded on the computer and logged off. There was plenty of time to get his reading done and then figure out how he’d plan the rest of the day. Accidentally running into Allie might be entertaining as fuck, but it wasn’t accomplishing anything. He had to figure out a better way to go about this.
I could take her up on the offer.
Roman hesitated in front of his cart. It seemed simple enough—leave business out of things. It meant passing up valuable opportunities to talk to her, but...it wasn’t like Allie was talking to him at this point. She wasn’t going to, either. She’d made that more than clear.
There was no goddamn reason not to say yes.
He turned around and headed back into the main building. The hostess smiled when she saw him coming. “Mr. Bassani, are you enjoying your stay?”
“Very much so.” He was about to enjoy it a whole hell of a lot more. He stopped next to the desk she stood behind. “I was hoping you could help me with something.”
“Of course.” She smiled brightly, her brown eyes lighting up with the rest of her face. “Let me know what you need and I’ll take care of it.”
“I’d like to send a message to one of the other villas—villa six.”
Her face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry. We do our best to create an isolated and relaxing atmosphere here. If guests choose to come into the lodge, that’s one thing, but we don’t seek them out unless they need something.” And she clearly thought that whatever he wanted to send wouldn’t be relaxing.
Roman put on his most charming smile. “It’s just a little note. If they order dinner tonight, there would already be someone going out there. You can just include the message with the food.”
Still she hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“If it makes you feel better, you can read the note. Just to ensure it’s all on the up-and-up.”
Another hesitation, shorter this time. “I suppose...” She passed over a thick piece of island stationery. Roman accepted the pen and scrawled a quick note. The hostess frowned. “That’s it?”
“She’ll know what I mean.”
She smiled, obviously put at ease by the fact he hadn’t written anything inappropriate. Roman could have corrected her assumption, but he needed Allie to get that note. Passing notes. That’s what I’ve been reduced to.
It would be hours yet before he knew what her answer was—possibly longer if she decided to make him wait. The entire thing was beyond his control, and it irritated the fuck out of him. What was he supposed to do with this? Roman was used to seeing what he wanted and going for it—and heaven help anyone who thought they could stand in the way.
He wanted his client happy, and the only way that would happen was acquiring the gym.
He wanted Allie, too.
Therein lay the issue—he couldn’t have both. There might not be any sort of future with Allie, but there sure as fuck wasn’t one if he kept pushing her. She’d made that more than clear.
If he stopped pushing her, they could relax into the insanely hot sex, but he’d have to let his plan for Transcend go. It might not be the end of the world, but Roman’s career was built on the faith that he could provide exactly what he promised. He’d never met an obstacle he couldn’t account for and overcome.
Until now.
He turned and strode out of the main building and to his cart, gripping the stack of papers. All the information he could come up with for Allie and her gym—something Roman should have done a long time ago. Oh, he’d done the basic background check and pulled the available financial statements he could get ahold of, but he hadn’t dug deeper than that, even when she’d refused to meet him.
Stupid of him.
He didn’t need to navel gaze for the rest of his goddamn life to know why he hadn’t pushed as hard as he normally did. The shelter. He admired the hell out of what she was doing there, and he knew it was pretty damn likely that she had some kind of history that drove her to create a safe space like she had. Having a man try to bulldoze her might trigger shit that he’d have to be a monster to pull up.
He’d played softball with her.
Now that he’d met Allie, he was forced to reevaluate. She wasn’t anything like he’d expected. She wasn’t a wilting flower that would crumble at a sharp word. The woman had thorns, and she had no problem using them. Roman gripped the papers. The gloves were coming off. Now.