Page 61 of Unstable

As if reading her mind, Roman nodded and smiled. “I just got off the phone with Zane, who’s keeping an eye on our guy back home. We’re good to go out now.”

A huge smile lit her face, and she bounced up onto the balls of her feet. “I’ll go get changed!”

She turned and bolted back down the hall toward the bedroom, quickly yanking on the first swimsuit she came to, which happened to be the red one Roman was so enamored of. Once she was ready, she headed back to the living room, where she found Roman sitting on the couch, an indulgent smile on his face.

She threw him a repentant smile and moved between the vee of his legs. “I forgot to say good morning.”

His hands moved to her hips and he pulled her close. “It is now.”

Synchronized, they leaned toward one another, their lips meeting in a hot kiss. His mouth moved over hers, slow and seductive. There was no rush, just the tantalizing prospect of fulfillment and desire as his tongue moved over hers. He released her with a soft groan. “We better get moving.”

As much as he tempted her, she wasn’t going to pass up her opportunity to spend a day at the beach, just being herself. For the first time since they arrived, she didn’t have to hide away in the house or conceal her identity. They could go out and enjoy the sights and each other.

She slid off his lap and grabbed his hand. “Can we have a picnic on the beach?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you want. We’ll leave the food here so it stays cold, then come back and get it at lunchtime.”

She moved toward the beach stuff and hoisted the umbrella over her shoulder. “Where did you find all this stuff?”

“In the shed on the side of the house.” He scooped up the two chairs, then flung the towels over his shoulder. “There was a note in the welcome package that said we could use anything available.”

She stretched up on her toes and kissed him once more. “Thank you for doing this.”

His hands were full, but he somehow invaded her space, making her feel like he was wrapped around every inch of her. “Anything for you, trouble.”

She smiled at the nickname. She was still worried about what would happen once they got home and back to their real lives, but she pushed the thoughts away as she moved toward the door and held it open for Roman. She locked up, then they headed down to the beach, scouting the perfect spot as they walked. They settled about halfway between the shore and the house so that the water wouldn’t disturb their things when high tide came in.

Once they’d put the chairs in place, Roman slipped the house key from her fingers and put it in a zippered pocket of his swim shorts, then held out a hand. “Come in with me?”

“Sure.” She tucked her fingers into his, and they headed down toward the ocean.

They waded into the cool, shallow water, and she sucked in a breath. Even in the bright sunlight, it didn’t feel any warmer than it had the day they’d arrived. Goosebumps rose over her skin as she shuffled her feet the way Roman instructed, venturing deeper into the ocean until she was in up to her waist. Roman wasted no time ducking beneath the waves. He came back up, water sluicing over his muscles, the refraction of the droplets in the sunlight making his tattoos stand out even more.

Tearing her eyes away from him, she pointed to a spot farther out where a handful of people stood and walked around. “What’s that?”

Roman followed her gaze. “A sandbar.”

“I didn’t realize they had those here.”

He eyed her. “You’ve seen one before?”

She nodded. “I used to play in the crick behind our house when I was little.”

“Crick?” A teasing smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and she dropped her eyes away, cheeks burning.

She hated when her backwoods upbringing reared its ugly head around Roman. He made her feel inadequate on the best of days, let alone when she slipped and said something supremely stupid like that. Roman was older, and he seemed infinitely more mature and worldly than she would ever be. He’d traveled in the military to other countries and immersed himself in the various peoples and cultures. Though she traveled, too, she was barely allowed to leave the hotel, let alone do anything touristy.

She cleared her throat. “Creek,” she corrected herself. “Gram always used to call it the crick, so it kind of just stuck.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “I’ve just never heard anyone else use that term before.”

She tipped her head. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “We grew up close to the Slippery Rock, and a lot of locals called it a crick, too.”

She smiled, her insecurities melting away. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”

“Nope.” He gestured with his chin to the sandbar. “Want to swim out there?”