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in his shoulders and chest flex—kind of like they had when he was hovering over her and thrusting...
Her face flamed, and she shook out her hair, doing her best to pretend it was just the external heat and not his effect on her. When Roman got close enough for her to see his face clearly, she went still. He wasn’t looking at Becka at all. His attention had focused on Allie like a laser beam, and he cut through the water, effortlessly back paddling to coast to a stop next to her paddleboard. “Allie.”
“I’m not sure of the exact laws in this place, but I’m pretty sure they frown on stalking.”
His lips quirked. “It’s a small island. We’re bound to run into each other.”
How could he sit there so calm and collected while she fought between the desire to tip his damn kayak and to jump him where he sat? She steadied her grip on her paddle and fought for control. It was easier—so much easier—to be angry than it was to deal with the conflicting emotions inside her. “Is that what you call your kayaking past our villa—again?”
His grin was quick and unrepentant. “The view isn’t as good this time.” She sputtered, but he didn’t give her a chance to reply, turning instead to look at Becka. “I know you.”
“Not really. But you know my sister—Lucy Baudin.”
He flinched—actually flinched—though he covered it up quickly enough that Allie wouldn’t have noticed it if she wasn’t watching him so closely. Becka had said her sister and Roman were friends, but it appeared to be more complicated than that. Allie filed that away, and irritation rose all over again. “We’re trying to have a relaxing time, and you’re ruining it.”
Roman turned the force of his attention onto her again. His wearing sunglasses should have diluted the effect, but she swore she could feel his gaze dragging over her, taking in her high-waisted vintage swimsuit. It was a flirty black with pink polka dots, and she knew she looked damn good in it. From the way his grip tightened on his paddle, he agreed.
A strange sense of power rolled through her. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She’d known that, of course, but the shock of his true identity had twisted everything up in her head. Roman might be considering trying to seduce her into submission, but... What if she turned the tables on him?
Or maybe you want any excuse to get into bed with him again.
She ignored the internal voice and leaned forward, giving him a good view of the excellent cleavage the underwire top created. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she reveled in the power for a breath before reason kicked back in. “Get lost, Roman. You don’t have anything to say to me that I want to hear.”
“We both know that’s not true.” His wicked grin widened, leaving no illusions to what he meant.
Her irritation flickered hotter. He was sitting there, the smug bastard, and thinking he had her number just because he’d made her come more times last night than she’d thought physically possible. Thinking he could railroad her into doing what he wanted.
Well, fuck that.
Allie lifted her chin. “I don’t know anything of the sort. It was a forgettable experience across the board.” She jerked her chin at Becka, who watched them with jaw dropped. “Let’s go. Something stinks out here.”
ROMAN SPENT THE rest of the day considering his game plan. Cornering Allie was all well and good, but from the look she’d given him before she paddled away early, if she thought he was trying to talk business, she’d cut him off at the knees. Misplayed the hell out of this.
There was no use bitching about it. The ideal situation was long gone, so he had to work with what he had.
What he had was smoking-hot chemistry with Allie Landers. Seeing her in that cocktease of a swimsuit with her hair in beach waves around her shoulders hadn’t done a damn thing to help remind him why he couldn’t have her.
He decided to give her until tomorrow—or, rather, to give himself until tomorrow—to figure it out. Rushing this wasn’t going to accomplish the end he wanted.
He checked his email, more to distract himself than because he thought there’d be any information yet. There wasn’t even a single fire for him to put out. Roman ran his hand through his hair. Paradise was all well and good in theory, but it was fucking boring here by himself.
On a whim, he made his way to the patio where sunset yoga would be held—and stopped short at the sight of Allie in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top that seemed to have too many straps but showed off her body to perfection. As he watched, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and unrolled a mat.
The instructor—a tiny woman with dark eyes, curly hair and a wide smile—caught sight of him. “The mats are against the wall. Pick a place that feels best for you, but we do prefer to have classes in a single line when there’s a small number of people.”
Allie turned and her eyebrows shot up, then lowered just as fast. “What are you doing here?”
“Yoga.” There was no backing out now, even if he wasn’t going to get the relaxation he’d craved. He’d wanted to get time with Allie to talk, but this wasn’t what Roman had in mind. He grabbed one of the mats and flung it out with a snap a decent distance from hers. On her other side, Becka looked between them as if she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react.
The instructor was all smiles and gentle hands as she picked up his mat and scooted it until it was only a few inches from Allie’s. “Yoga is meant to be experienced as a group. We like to keep it intimate here—which we can’t do if someone is creating distance.” Once she was satisfied he’d obey, she moved to the front of their line and started her intro.
Roman tried to do yoga a few times a week. He spent too much time sitting behind a desk, and he preferred boxing as his outlet—both activities wreaked havoc on his joints. Yoga helped, and it settled his racing mind like little else, he found.
Today, there was no settling to be had.
He had too much awareness of Allie next to him, her body flowing through the positions effortlessly, her breathing deep and even. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered to have him so close. It aggravated him in a way it shouldn’t have, but he wanted to force her to acknowledge that he was right there.
“Roman, you seem distracted.” The instructor—he couldn’t remember her name, but it was something like Tiffany or Tracy—stopped next to him, using a light touch to adjust his Warrior I stance. “Focus on your breathing. Inhale deeply.” She demonstrated, exhaling slowly through her nose in an audible sound. He followed suit, and she nodded. “Exhale your thoughts. Let your breath center you. You gave yourself this time today. Don’t waste it.”
He tried. Fuck, he tried. But each inhale brought a faint strain of Allie’s lavender scent, and when she turned to face the side of the patio, he found himself captivated by the faint sheen of sweat on her golden skin.
It was too much.
With his being so goddamn in tune with his body, there was no fighting the threatening cockstand. Roman turned on his heel and stalked away, into the main building. He needed distance from that woman, but fuck if it helped. Her scent was in his system, her body a siren call he had no business hearing. She didn’t want him—not now that she knew who he was.
He shouldn’t want her, either.
But he did.
Roman considered heading straight back to his villa, but the thought of being alone right now only increased his agitation. This was a mistake. Which part was the biggest mistake was up for grabs, but he was considering chalking the entire situation up as a loss.
With nothing left to do, he walked into the bar. It was a small space—no