Teaching Roman by Gennifer Albin Read Free Book Online Page B

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.

CHAPTER NINE
    R oman carried me through the patio doors, not breaking our kiss, and ran into very little furniture considering it was