it up and set it adjacent to hers so they were sitting on a diagonal, rather than directly across from each other. “Nice view.”
She turned to agree—and found him staring at her.
Allie wasn’t falsely modest. Life was too short to play games with body shaming and pretending she didn’t have access to a mirror. She was pretty—beautiful when she put some effort into it—but she’d given up being skinny or petite after the agony of high school, and she wasn’t athletically built like some of the women at her gym. Sure, she had muscle beneath her softness, and she could keep up with the best of them in her spin classes, but she loved food just as much as she loved to sweat, and her curves reflected that. Some guys had a problem with that, though she didn’t keep them around as soon as comments like “Should you really be eating that?” started.
This guy looked at her like he wanted to put her on the table and feast on her for dinner.
The desire stoked the flame inside her that had kindled the second she saw him. She leaned forward, checking his left hand. No ring. No tan lines, either. “What brings you to West Island?”
“It’s paradise, isn’t it? Who wouldn’t want to come here to get away from it all?”
That wasn’t quite an answer, but she was distracted by the intoxicating way his mouth moved when he spoke. Get ahold of yourself, Allie. You’re in danger of panting for him. She took a quick drink of water that did nothing to quell the heat rising with each minute she sat next to him.
Luckily, a waiter appeared to save her from saying something truly embarrassing. He outlined the menu for the night and took their drink orders, then disappeared as quickly as he’d come.
They were in the middle of one of the most beautiful places Allie had ever seen, and she couldn’t manage to tear her gaze away from this stranger. She licked her lips, every muscle in her body tensing when he followed the movement. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles.
The touch was innocent enough, but she felt that light movement in places that were most definitely not innocent. She didn’t have to look down to know her nipples now pressed against the thin fabric of her sundress.
His smile was slow and sinful and promised things she never would have had the gall to ask for. “This is going to sound unforgivably forward, but what do you say we get out of here and go back to my villa?”
It was crazy. More than crazy. She didn’t even know his name, and she sure as hell didn’t know anything more pertinent about him.
But there on the softly lit patio with the tropical scent of some flower she didn’t recognize and the soft shushing sound of the tide coming in, she didn’t feel like Allie, gym owner and mother hen, the responsible one who could never afford to do anything out of line or make a misstep because too many lives depended on her.
Here, she was just Allie, a woman. A woman who desperately wanted the man staring at her mouth as if he was doing everything in his power to keep from kissing her right then and there. She licked her lips again, secretly delighting in the way a muscle in his jaw jumped. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, let’s get out of here.”
ROMAN TOOK THE woman’s hand as they left the candlelit restaurant and made their way to the golf cart he’d driven there. He’d considered walking, but he was so goddamn glad now that he hadn’t.
She looked even better up close than she’d been on the beach. Her white floral dress displayed her large breasts to perfection, hugging her ribs and then flaring out to swish around her thighs as she walked next to him. Her long blond hair was a mass of waves tumbling just past her shoulders, and he could picture it all too easily tangling between his fingers as he thrust into her.
Slow down.
He took a careful breath, and then another, focusing on keeping his stride unhurried and his hand loose on hers. Roman was hardly a saint, but he’d never had a reaction to a woman on such an intrinsic level like he was having now. He wanted to kiss her pouty lips and run his hands over her body and...
Slow. Down.
Not happening.
Not when she looked at him from under thick lashes, her blue eyes devouring the sight of him. She wanted this.
But he had to be sure.
He pulled her into his arms when they stopped next to the golf cart. She stepped against him easily—eagerly—and he let himself off the leash enough to run his hands down her back and to cup her ass, bringing her flush against him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he had to bite back a groan at how good she felt. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
She didn’t give him the chance to follow through. She tilted her face up and captured his mouth. It was chaste as such things went, her lips soft against his, but it didn’t stay that way. Roman slid one hand up to cup the back of her head and deepened the kiss, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue and delving inside when she opened for him. Her hands fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him closer even as her hips rolled against his.
Roman tore his mouth from hers. “Golf cart. Now.” Or he was in danger of forgetting where they were and fucking her right here. Even ignoring the glaring lack of a condom, he wasn’t a beast incapable of anything resembling control, and this beautiful wanting woman deserved better than to be bent over a goddamn golf cart.
At least for the first time.
First time? You’re out of your damn mind.
He picked her up and set her on the golf cart, enjoying the way her lips parted in a surprised O. He was showing off and he didn’t give two fucks about it, especially not when he slid behind the wheel, fired up the cart and started down the path leading toward his villa. He almost asked about hers, but just because she was alone didn’t mean she was alone.
The thought brought him up short. He glanced at her. “Are you here with someone?”
“Just my friend.” She correctly interpreted his expression. “I’m single. No boyfriend. No husband.”
Thank fuck. “Same.” He pressed the accelerator again. There were little eco-friendly lights scattered along the edge of the path to keep them from driving into a tree, and he made it back to his villa in record time.
Roman shut off the engine and turned to face her. “I—”
“Wait.” She pressed a finger to his lips, and he instinctively nipped her lightly. Her eyes went wide. “Let’s just...enjoy this. It’s not like it’s real life. It’s the fantasy of this place.” She motioned with her free hand.
He couldn’t argue that, not with the low sound of some bird in the distance and the sky and sea fading from magnificent colors to true dark even as they sat there. He’d left on a scattering of lights in the villa, and he took her hand and led her inside. “Hot tub?”
“Maybe later.”
There was no mistaking the intent in the way she watched him, so he didn’t waste time. This was, after all, the fantasy. Roman embraced that and ignored the part of him that was curious about who this woman was and why she’d come to this place. About what her life was like wherever she spent her normal time. About a lot of things. He set it aside, because he craved another taste of her, and if he started talking about shit that didn’t matter, he would ruin this perfect feeling of breathless need between them.
He led her into the main bedroom. It played up the island fantasy just as much as the rest of this place did: big windows overlooking the water, a massive mattress framed by a driftwood headboard. The white comforter was ridiculously fluffy, but he wanted to see her stretched