Chapter 31
After they returned to the house, Ava showered and washed her hair, then slipped into a white cotton dress. The dress had
a halter top with a deep vee and skinny straps, an embroidered waist, and a floaty skirt that fell to her knees. She could
get away with not wearing a bra, but when she opened the drawer where she’d put her underwear, she hesitated.
What if she forwent the panties, too?
No panties meant she expected something to happen tonight. That she wanted something to happen.
She thought about what she and Roman had done in the shower that morning. What they’d done at the beach before their epic
wipeout.
It was time to face facts. Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t keep her hands off him.
Damaris was right. Ava deserved to make the most of this romantic island getaway with Roman. Instead of denying herself what
she wanted, she’d go after it. She still had her boundaries—two more days in Puerto Rico, two more days to revel in pleasure—and
then she’d go back to real life. Back to Old Ava.
She shut the drawer with a decisive snap, leaving the panties neatly folded inside.
In front of the bathroom mirror, Ava worked product into her hair in silence. She usually listened to music or audiobooks
while she did her hair, but her phone was still on the coffee table in the living room next to Roman’s, where they’d left
them before heading to the beach.
At first, the thought of having her phone off all day had rocketed up her anxiety levels. But in hindsight, it was nice to
have long stretches of uninterrupted time to think.
Lord knew she had a lot to think about. Visiting the distillery and seeing how much it meant to him touched something in her.
She was still mulling over everything he’d shared about himself and his family.
Their connection was deepening, which scared her. But maybe... that was okay?
“Stop overthinking it.” She scolded herself in the mirror as she finger-curled a few locks of hair around her face. “You’ll
be home in two days. Worry about it then.”
It was almost time for dinner, so she decided to let her hair air dry, something she almost never did. If she went swimming
again tonight or tomorrow, she’d regret spending the time to dry it with a diffuser. Next, she glanced at her makeup bag,
but as she had with the blow dryer, she hesitated.
Roman had seen her first thing in the morning. He’d cared for her while she was sick. If he didn’t like her face the way it
was, too bad for him. She swiped on some tinted lip balm and called it a day.
New Ava isn’t afraid to be seen without makeup , she thought. It had taken years before she’d let Hector see—
No . No more thinking about Hector. No more comparing who she was then and now. That part of her life was over, and it was time
to embrace who she was at this very moment and move on.
With Roman? a little voice in the back of her mind asked.
With myself , she replied fiercely.
After slipping on her chancletas, she went out to the patio, where Roman had told her to meet him for dinner.
Dusk was falling, and with it came the song of the coquí, the little tree frogs that were native to Puerto Rico. The temperature
had dropped marginally, and the patio’s ceiling fan worked overtime to cool the space. Soft yellow light came from sconces
on the walls, and the pool water lapped lazily in the languid breeze.
In the middle of it all, Roman sat in one of the armchairs, reading a magazine. He wore a short-sleeved chambray shirt and
tan shorts. With his reading glasses and his wet hair springing into loose curls, he was unbelievably adorable. And all hers,
at least for the next two days.
As she approached, she saw their “dinner” and gave a surprised gasp. “What’s all this?”
The low outdoor table was positively groaning under the weight of dishes. It was like their first night together, when Roman
had ordered a little of everything, and it had amounted to a lot.
Smiling, he set his glasses and the magazine aside and rose to his feet.
“I felt bad that you missed the tasting yesterday,” he explained, bringing her a glass of sparkling rosé. “I arranged for
a few of the items to be served tonight, so you can give your opinion.”
“A few?” Ava gaped at the table. “This must be everything!”
He shrugged. “Most of it.”
Ava shook her head, unable to take it all in. “This is too much. It was my fault I missed the tasting. You were right, I’m
too available to my family.”
“That may be. But you’re right that you know Jasmine better than I do, and you’re here to have a hand in these decisions.
Shall we sit?”
Ava let him lead her over to the round daybed and sat while he retrieved his own drink—amber liquid with a large cube of ice
and an orange peel.
“Another Romy Negroni?” she asked.
“Of course. Every time I have one, it makes me think of you, and how glad I am that you ordered that horrendous lemon drink—which,
by the way, has been removed from the menu.” He sat beside her. Not across, but next to. Like he wanted to be close to her.
This absolutely charming man. How the hell was she supposed to guard her heart against him?
She couldn’t. It was as simple as that.
Two more days , she told herself. She had two days to enjoy this, enjoy him .
So she cuddled against his side as he launched into an explanation of all the dishes, as knowledgeable as any head waiter.
When Ava made to get up, saying she needed her planner to take notes, he put a hand over hers and shook his head.
“I’ll remember for you,” he said, and it was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.
Dinner was a slow, sensuous affair. Roman fed her bits from each dish, watching her reaction carefully and asking for her thoughts. Such close scrutiny from anyone else would have made her nervous that she was being a nuisance, but with Roman, she understood the gift of his undivided attention. Under his gaze, she felt sexier, and more present, than she probably ever had in her whole life. Besides, if he wanted to be elsewhere, he would be. He’d gone out of his way to take this trip with her—to spend time with her, he’d said. She knew it wasn’t only for Ashton. They were friends, but Roman wouldn’t miss entire days of work, with his phone off, for just anyone.
And yet he’d done it for her.
What did it mean?
Don’t worry about that , she told herself. Just enjoy . Savor this moment .
So she did.
Around them, the humidity in the air finally reached saturation point, and it began to rain. Softly at first, a gentle smattering
against the roof of the patio, then harder, with a force and velocity specific only to a tropical rainstorm. The noise cocooned
them, making their outdoor oasis feel even more secluded, and the temperature cooled to something bordering on pleasant.
By the time they reached the cupcake tray, Ava was in flavor overload. She’d never thought so much about the food she’d put
in her mouth.
Then Roman dipped his index finger into the smear of lemon icing and held it out to her. “Ready to taste?”
She fought back a shiver. This man was going to incinerate her.
Leaning forward, she closed her lips around the end of his finger and sucked. The icing was sweet and tart, creamy with a slight sugary crunch, and underneath, the taste of his skin. Keeping her eyes on his, she swiped the pad of his finger with her tongue before easing back. Because she was watching, she caught the movement of his throat as he swallowed hard. His brown eyes filled with banked fire, and Ava was real freaking glad she hadn’t bothered with panties.
“Ava,” he whispered huskily.
For once, her mind, body, and heart were in agreement, all three screaming, Yes, yes, take me now .
His lips parted.
She leaned in, eager for his kiss...
“I love you.”
Every single one of her cells froze .
Seconds ticked by as she stared at his face, uncomprehending. Finally, her tongue thawed enough to utter, “You—what?”
Roman took her hand and bent toward her, his gaze intense. “I know this is against your rules...”
Rules? What rules? She couldn’t think straight. What the fuck was happening?
“...but it’s not in me to hide something like this.”
Her heart pounded in her throat, making speech difficult. “What?” she choked out.
The center of his dark brows creased. “I love you.”
So that was what he’d said.
“I wanted to give you time to process...” he went on, while Ava struggled to remember how to breathe.
Process. Yes, she needed to process this. But he was holding her hand, and he was right next to her, warm and good-smelling,
and all she could see was the open and earnest expression on his face, and those dreamy eyes...
“Roman.” Oh good, she could still say something other than “what.”
He stopped talking. She hadn’t the faintest idea what he’d been saying. She cleared her throat.
“I don’t... I don’t know what to say.” The words came more easily now that the initial shock had worn off.
“You don’t have to say or do anything,” he said calmly. “I just want you to know where I stand.”
“Oh.” That sounded reasonable. “Thanks?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re welcome.”
And then her skin tingled and her heart started pounding like a snare drum as her brain reminded her what the fuck he’d just said .
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
And then she bolted.