Does his “extended family” include a wife or significant other? Is the “old friend” he stayed to hook up with actually a woman he’s planning to bang? I’m dying to know some more details but way too shy to ask, so I take an indirect approach. “Is there anybody back home, or maybe on their way here, who’s going to be upset with you for letting some random woman hang out in your bungalow for a little while?”
“Not a soul.” He shoots me a sexy, lopsided grin. “What aboutyou? Is there somebody back home who’d be pissed to find out you’re hanging out with a strange man in what was supposed to be your bungalow?”
Is he flirting with me?Increasingly, it’s starting to feel like it.
“Nope, there’s nobody. I’m single, the same as you.” If my assumption about his relationship status is incorrect, he’d better correct me now. Barring that, I’ve just made the firm decision to venture outside of my comfort zone and do my damnedest to seduce him. Admittedly, I don’t know how to do that, but there’s a first time for everything, and this man is too hot not to at least try.
Mr. Beautiful extends his large palm. “I’m Roman, by the way.”
“Iris.” I shake his offered hand, and a jolt passes through me at the point of contact. “It’s nice to meet you, Roman. Sorry it had to happen like this.”
“I’m not complaining.” He flashes me a million-dollar smile that sends an electric current coursing through me. Okay, that smile definitely feels flirty.
“I’m not normally this frazzled,” I say. “On top of being sleep deprived from stressing about my friend cancelling on me, I’m also hungover from partying with my friends last night.”
“Yeah? Well, in that case ...” Roman grabs one of the drinks from the coffee table and hands it to me with a wink. “Sounds like you could use some hair of the dog.”
“Definitely. Thank you.” I watch him take a long sip of his own matching cocktail, but I don’t follow suit. “Sorry to ask,” I say, after he lowers his glass. “But will you swap drinks with me? I promised my father when I went off to college I’d never accept a drink from a stranger, unless I’d watched it being made from start to finish, and I’ve never once broken that promise.”
Roman doesn’t seem fazed. “Your dad’s a smart man. There are a lot of creeps out there.”
Yeah, I almost married one yesterday.
We swap drinks, and Roman takes a long, greedy sip of the cocktail that used to be mine—and, holy crap, the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing is extremely sexy to me for some reason.
I follow his lead and guzzle my new drink, and fruity, spicy deliciousness awakens my taste buds. “This hits the spot. Thank you. It’s delicious.”
“Isn’t it? I made this same cocktail for my whole family all week, and we were all obsessed.” He drags his perfect teeth seductively over his lower lip. “How long ago did you make that promise to your father, by the way?” When I look at him blankly, he adds, “You said you promised your dad you wouldn’t take drinks from strangers when you went off to college. How long ago was that, exactly?”
I return his wicked grin. I still get carded all the time, so I know for a fact I look much younger than my age. Could it be this sexy man is making sure I’m a full-blown adult because he’s having the same kinds of naughty thoughts I’m having about me spending the night here with him?
“Is that your way of asking my age, Roman?”
“It sure is, Iris.” He chuckles.
“I’m twenty-six. You?”
“Thirty-two.”
Excellent.Kaylee once told me men in their thirties and forties generally have more confidence and skill in the bedroom than men in their twenties. She would know. Unlike me, our vivacious, carefree Kaylee’s had lots of partners, of all ages, which is why I’ve always lived vicariously through her. Brandon’s the only guy I’ve ever been with, and unfortunately, sex with him was never what I’d call exciting.
I’ve always wondered if me not being able to have an orgasm with Brandon—I can only do it when I’m alone and using my vibrator—is a “me” problem, a “Brandon” problem, or an “us” problem. And now, out of nowhere, it seems I mightunexpectedly have found the perfect man to help me figure that out.
Roman’s dark eyes flash. “Are you in a rush to get out of here, Iris?”
“Not at all.”
“What do you think about us taking our drinks onto the deck with a plate of cheese and crackers before I start making our sandwiches?”
“That sounds great. Other than figuring out where I’m going to sleep tonight, I’ve got absolutely nothing to do.”
“You could crash here tonight, if you’re comfortable with that. There’s a bed and a couch, so we’d make it work.”
Well, that escalated quickly. Is he simply being polite, or is he thinking what I’m thinking? “Thank you so much. That takes the pressure off.”
“Good. No stress allowed. You’re on vacation.”
At Roman’s urging, I head onto the deck with my drink while he makes a snack plate for us, and a moment later, he joins me on a cushioned outdoor couch.
