Page 43 of The Agreement

Roman was starting to get the feeling that if he asked her too many questions she would shut up, cut him off, even.

The closer she came to him, the more clearly he could assess her. Admire her, really. Honesty was the best policy, after all. She had the quality of a wildflower on the top of a hill being thrashed around by a strong wind.

Yeah.

Like a good gust might blow her right the fuck over. The very sight of her actually had his chest tightening with a protective urge he couldn’t explain. No woman had struck him damn near speechless and simultaneously confused all at the same time without doing much at all.

Drops of water clung to her skin like beads. Her dark hair was slick and wet, pasted to the sides of her face. All that exercise had caused her cheeks to turn a deep pink, the tip of her nose, too. There was no denying the fact that this woman was extraordinarily beautiful.

So much so, she deserved a second look. And maybe the kind of husband who would kill a man for daring to take a third.

He realized she was watching him too when she spoke, snapping him out of his dazed admiration of her body. He couldn’t find it in himself to be ashamed at being caught, but frankly, she was studying him just as closely.

Roman even considered asking if she liked what she could see.

“Is this about the planner?” she asked, arching one dark brow high. “Is she waiting to see us?”

Roman’s own furrowed in confusion, his body responding to the fact that she was even closer to him, now. Close enough that he’d be able to touch her if she wanted. Because Lord knew he wanted to. He had a terrible habit of admiring beautiful things. And she certainly was that.

The woman continued to speak regardless of whether she got a response from him. Really, he just didn’t know what she wanted him to say when she was still talking in riddles that he couldn’t understand.

“What does it matter anyway? It’s not like I’ll actually be able to choose anything or make decisions. They’ll do it all for me. God. They’ll even pick my dress.”

He opened his mouth to speak, feeling the irresistible urge to ask for an explanation. Or maybe just to keep her talking. There really was a musical quality to the way she spoke, and how her words streamed together in her rambling.

Who is planning what?

A dress for what?

Before he could say anything, though, her gaze shifted to something behind his shoulder. Without warning, she hauled herself quickly out of the pool.

Water splashed everywhere as she straightened up right beside him. She was a punch to his gut. In panties and a matching bra that did nothing to hide the definition of what was underneath, fully soaked through so he could see the stiffness of her nipples underneath the bra’s fabric, she didn’t think twice about her state. Her cleavage was deep, the bra had shifted in its soaking weight to the extent that another inch down and her full breasts would be on display. The slenderness of her body, from the milkiness of her legs and their length to the soft curves of her calves, and even how tiny her waist was, he couldn’t look away from it all.

A part of him wanted to.

He should.

Not that she seemed to care.

Roman did his best to ignore the growing length in his slacks, and he cleared his throat in an effort to ... fuck, who would know? It was a strange war to fight within himself—equally torn between the parts of himself that very much liked what he saw, and another that wanted to wrap her up in a towel and hide her from the rest of the world.

He didn’t want to stop looking at her. At least, he managed to put his attention on her face. Dignity, and all.

Everybody deserved a little.

Right?

She rubbed her hand over her face in an attempt to wipe off what remained of the water dripping down from her hair. Giving him one last look, she stepped past him without another word exchanging between them.

He didn’t know what made her get out of the water or why she was running away. Her departure would be just as unexplained as her appearance in the pool, it seemed

Roman still had questions.

Who wouldn’t?

Most importantly—if she left now, would he see her again?

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