Teaching Roman (21 page)

I raised an eyebrow. “I will?”

“For one thing, there’s no rule against being
married
to a student. And for another, immediate family of faculty receive a discount in the tuition department.”

“Too bad you aren’t faculty,” I said.

“I will be next year. They offered me a position as junior faculty.”

“And you didn’t tell me this?” I asked, sitting up in bed.

“With everything going on with Aba, I forgot.” He shrugged his shoulders, and my own face fell. He wasn’t excited about it.

“Do you need to stay here?” I asked.

“There’s no job here,” he said, “and no tuition reduction for my wife.”

“I don’t need your help with money.”

“You’re my wife,” he pointed out.

“If you think I can’t take care of myself—”

“Hold on, Jess. I never said that. The fact is that we’ll be living together and sharing expenses. I don’t expect to support you, but I do plan on helping. We’ve got to get you through medical school,” he said.

I set my jaw, staring up at him. “I can pay my own bills.”

“I know that,” he said. “You just don’t have to do it alone anymore. Compromise, remember? Besides, my junior faculty pay won’t go very far. You’ll still get the pleasure of taking out student loans.”

I scrambled to my feet and kissed him on the cheek. “How exciting.”

“Where are you going?” he caught my hand as I turned away from him.

“The bathroom,” I said. “So that I don’t have to leave that bed for another five hours.”

“Sounds promising and ambitious.” He paused and shifted on his feet. “Did you remember to...”

I reached for my purse and held it up. My diaphragm was tucked safely inside it. “Reason number 2 to go to the bathroom.”

Roman stretched out and caught me around the waist, laying a gentle hand on my stomach. “Someday. But let’s get you through med school first, ok?”

I gave him a small smile, grateful that he understood how I felt. In the bathroom, I took care of business and then rummaged in my purse for my lipgloss. My phone was blinking a new message and I slid the lock screen.

JILLIAN:
You aren’t going to believe what I have to tell you.

You aren’t going to believe me either,
I thought. If I texted her right now that I was married, she would think it was a practical joke until I got home with a ring on my finger. Strike that. I would probably have to show her the marriage license and produce the chaplain along with a Holy Bible for him to swear on. I thought I might feel nervous post-wedding, but instead my tummy did an excited flip, sending a rush dancing through my skin.

I tapped to read my next message.

CASSIE:
Keeping out of trouble?

It was her voice in my head as I read the text, complete with her coy, knowing tone. I glanced around the bathroom and thought about it. It couldn’t have been coincidence that Roman and I were back in the same villa we’d spent our first night together in. I didn’t know how she’d pulled it off or how she even knew we had gotten married, but I wasn’t surprised.

I sent them both back a message that I had a surprise for them, too.

I checked my hair and brushed my teeth and was surprised to discover that I was inexplicably nervous. It wasn’t like it was my first time, except it was my first time as a married woman. My reflection rolled her eyes. I glanced at my sundress and decided it wasn’t quite sexy enough for my waiting husband. Stripping it off left me too exposed in my bra and panties. I’d never really walked out to Roman in anything that could remotely pass for lingerie. Not that this could. I tugged off my bra and turned around in the mirror. Its removal seemed to improve things. After a minute, I stripped my panties, too.

I had definitely never walked out naked to Roman before. He’d undressed me or I’d kept my shirt on or we’d been treading water in the ocean, but I’d never gone to him like this—bare and vulnerable.

Our wedding night seemed like a pretty good place to start.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. Roman’s back was to me as he poured champagne into two flutes.

“Someone knows,” he said, without looking at me. “Look what was in the fridge.”

Turning then, his mouth fell open. He abandoned the champagne flutes and stepped closer to me. I couldn’t move, locked in his penetrating gaze.

“Mrs. Markson.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me roughly to him.

“You’re still dressed.” My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Care to remedy that?” he asked as our lips met. All my vulnerability melted away as his body pressed hard into mine. I pushed his shirt up, and he whipped it over his head so quickly I only had a second to register the absence of his kiss before our tongues tangled back together. Roman’s hands slid from my hips to cup my ass, lifting me up and around his waist. He held me there—steady and strong—while he explored my mouth. The ache in my chest built until I felt as though I was so full of him that could float away from wanting. His lips left mine, dropping kisses along my neck, as he worked his way up to my ear.

“I’m glad we got married in the morning,” he murmured. His breath was warm, and it tickled against my sensitive skin, sending ripples of anticipation through my body.

“Mmmmhmmmm” was all I could manage past the dizzying longing pulsing through me.

“Now I can make love to you all day.” He carried me to the bed, laying me down cautiously, as though I was made of glass—something fragile and precious. My eyes didn’t leave his face, even as I heard a zipper. Roman stepped out of his pants, our eyes trained on one another. With gentle hands he pushed me up toward the pillows at the head of the bed.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“I want to worship my wife. Get comfortable,” he told me, dropping to his hands and knees and pushing my legs open. “I’m going to be here a while.”

My head fell back as his tongue dipped between my legs. He worshipped me with his mouth, kissing and sucking until I was on the edge. But he didn’t let me fall over it. The result left my body humming with a pleasure so intense that it vibrated through my skin. Every nerve was on alert, desperate for release and desperate for him to continue the beautiful torture.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, his mouth vanished and my eyes flew open to find him kneeling on the edge of the bed, a smug smile on his face.

“The wedding vows said “to have,” I said with a groan. “I looked it up.”

His grin widened. “Is that a hint?”

“I’m just following the rules.”

“In that case.” Roman gripped my thighs and lifted me to meet him, entering me with a smooth, powerful thrust. I gasped, overwhelmed by the moment. My husband was touching me. My husband was inside me. Nothing about that scared me, it exhilarated me. I circled against him as the pressure in my body built.

“I love you, Jessica Stone Markson,” he said in a soft voice, sending a surge quivering through me. He pushed against me, harder, responding to the clenching need of my body and I felt another ripple.

“I love you,” I said breathlessly, “as long as I live.”

Roman groaned, the declaration sending him over the edge. He drove deeper, releasing me in waves of pleasure that coursed through my limbs, turning my bones to jelly until I was little more than a puddle under him. Collapsing down, he gathered me in his arms and held me against his chest while the dizzying bliss dissolved. Our skin was slick with sweat and our breath came in heavy pants. I became aware of his heart, pounding against my cheek. The haze in my head cleared and I stroked a finger down his chest.

“If that’s what it means to be an honest woman...”

Roman’s eyebrow cocked up. “An honest woman, eh?”

“What would you call me?”

“A beautiful, kind, strong woman.” He nuzzled into my hair. “Although I’d be happy to make an honest woman out of you again.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, my tone ripe with challenge.

Roman’s face split into a grin as he rolled on top of me. “Oh yeah.”

I lost track of time, the day sweeping into twilight before we stumbled out of bed to replenish our bodies.

“There’s not much in here,” he said. “Want to go out? We can pop by the hospital.”

I nodded, tossing him a bag of mixed nuts from the gift basket the resort had left on the counter.

“I thought these were more your speed,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

I groaned as I pushed up on the counter. “Very mature, Mr. Markson.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Markson.”

The name felt warm and comfortable, and I pretended to study my chocolate covered strawberry as I blinked tears out of my eyes. But Roman wasn’t so easily fooled.

“Hey,” he said, tipping my chin up with his finger. “I won’t call you Mrs. Markson if it upsets you.”

I smacked his shoulder and laughed as the tears spilled out. “Happy tears.”

“Oh,” he said, but it was clear he was confused.

“I’m still keeping my name,” I told him, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t like being reminded that I’m your wife.”

“You’re my wife,” he said with emphasis and I cried a little harder until I tossed the strawberry on the counter and wrapped both my arms around my neck. Our lips brushed softly together as we held one another, marveling in the power of small words.

The ring of Roman’s phone broke us apart and he crossed the kitchen. As soon as he saw the screen, his face paled and I was on my feet, at his side. Our hands threaded together and I whispered, “I’m here.”

His fingers tightened their grip on mine as he answered, and in that moment, I understood what I had really promised him. Saying I do wasn’t a means to a happily ever after. It didn’t mean there were no more challenges facing us. It meant we would face them together. I’d been scared of marriage until Roman, but know I knew that it was more than empty promises. It was a partnership between best friends. It was the start of our family, and as I watched Roman’s face go slack with grief, I felt his pain as acutely as if it were my own. When he laid the phone down, he opened his mouth to speak, but I dropped a finger to his lips and shook my head. My hand stayed firmly in his, because we both knew we were stronger together. We always would be.

T
hanks for reading TEACHING ROMAN: A Good Girls Don’t novel. If you have a moment to leave an honest review of this book, please do. If you enjoyed Jess’s story and want to spend more time with Jillian, Jess, and Cassie, check out CATCHING LIAM, and be sure to sign up for my newsletter at
www.genniferalbin.com
to keep up-to-date with my latest releases.

I always appreciate hearing from my readers, so please drop me a line on twitter (@GenniferAlbin) or on Facebook (
facebook.com/GenniferAlbinBooks
).

This book wouldn’t have been possible without my girls: Tamara Mataya, Laurelin Paige, Melanie Harlow, Kayti McGee, and Bethany Hagen. Thanks for not only being good girls, but for being the best girls!

And a special thanks to my Kilt Checkers. I’ve loved getting to meet so many of you this year. Ursula, Ashley, and Jessirae— I love you girls. Hope to see you soon.

And yes, Cassie will be getting her own story. She’s already babbling away in my head. Look for REACHING GAVIN soon!

G
ennifer Albin holds a Masters degree in English Literature from the University of Missouri. A recovering academic, she turned to writing her own books.  In her free time she sits on the National Novel Writing Month Advisory Board, laughs (and cries) with her mom writers group, obsesses over book boyfriends, and constantly searches for the perfect shade of red lipstick.

Catching Liam

Unwrapping Liam

Crewel

Altered

Unraveled

Fifty First Times: A New Adult Anthology