Chapter 13

Thirteen

Sam

Sam tapped the button on the Ancient Greek slot machine she and Roman had been parked at for nearly thirty minutes. She was up a hundred and fifty. Exciting, but then again, it wasn't her money. Not to mention, the man standing just behind her, close enough she could smell his cologne, feel the heat of his body, was a hell of a lot more exciting than the money.

Sam was as middle class as a person could get. She wouldn't turn down a winning lottery ticket, but on the other hand, she rarely dropped the cash to buy one at all. She had the money to pay her rent, buy clothes, and keep her kitchen stocked. Money wasn't, and never had been, her top priority or desire. She didn't need name brands and expensive toys. Sure, she had a smartphone, but her laptop was battered and bruised and had more age than some of the wines Vivian served.

Talking with Roman earlier had opened her eyes. She had moved here to get away from the bad weather, from the disappointment she was feeling in her career, from the number of frogs—such a nice way to think of some of the self-centered men she'd met —she had kissed. But she hadn't moved to Love Beach to grow old too soon, and the last couple of days with Roman had made her realize that's exactly what she had been doing. She had let contentment turn into complacence, and in a sense, she had stopped living.

Everything Vivian had been telling her for the years they had been friends.

Tonight would be all about gambling, but the jackpot Sam wanted was standing behind her. Now and then he leaned in close to say something in her ear—the stupid ramblings one did while waiting to hit a jackpot, a snarky comment about someone who walked by or took the machine next to them. They'd had a couple of cocktails, and both the liquor and the constant musical sounds of the slot machines surrounding them had relaxed her.

She had forgotten what it was like to go out and have a good time.

"Mmm." Roman sounded pained. Sam peeked over her shoulder at him with a frown. "She's making her daddy proud."

Moving just her eyes, she noticed the young girl Roman was talking about. The kid was clad in denim with more holes than the rags her mom used to clean with when she was a kid, spiked heels that screamed fuck me —or would have if the girl could stand up in them—and a filmy white crop blouse that showed every bit of a garish tattoo down her sternum, flat pancake breasts, and tiny, little nipples.

"Jesus, she looks like she probably has to get up for school tomorrow," Sam mumbled. "Men who use young girls are creeps."

"Mm-hmm." He rested his hand on the small of her back. Sam leaned into his touch and tapped the button again, but she felt Roman's attention slide back to the girl. She was with two men in suits that probably cost a semester's worth of tuition. Sam had a feeling neither man was her father.

"You okay?" She looked back at Roman.

He cleared his throat and looked back at her. His nod didn't convince her.

"Want to wander around a bit?"

Her suggestion was more for his sake and the young girl's sake than her own. Sam had never been the jealous type. Not window-shopping anyway. She wasn't bothered by women who put their merchandise on display. But she didn't love looking at this young girl, and she suspected Roman was thinking about his daughter.

"Let's." He nodded.

"Of course."

Without thinking, she linked her fingers with his as they moved away from the row of slots. Roman gave her a slight squeeze and hung on. Both averted their gazes as they passed by the girl and the men, both of whom appeared old enough to be the girl's grandfathers.

"I like women as much as the next guy," Roman said quietly as they wandered through the casino. "I especially like naked women, and I have a real thing for fuck-me heels and sucking nipples." He heaved an angry sigh. "But I like my women of age. Preferably with the ink dry on their college diplomas. At least old enough to drink and know better if they're not the college type."

Sam flinched as he led her out of the casino to stand at the rail of the ship. Full night had fallen while they were inside. Knowing sometimes the best sort of answer, the best sort of support, was silence, she folded her arms on the rail and looked up at the stars.

"I'm sorry." Roman shook his head almost violently. "That was out of line, and I shouldn't have said it."

"Wasn't out of line," she said softly as she looked at him. She lifted her hand to smooth her fingers over the frown, the worry lines, in his forehead. "It was honest."

"I could have been honest without being crude."

"You're upset." She lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "She made you think of Luca."

"She slept with one of the doctors at my clinic." He turned sideways to face her. "A colleague. Not a friend. I was lucky enough to hear about it through the grapevine. Even got to see pictures on the guy's phone."

"Damn." Sam hissed. "I'm sorry."

"He claimed he didn't realize she was my daughter."

"How old was she then?"

"Eighteen."

Sam hedged a bit closer to him.

"Can I tell you something?"

Roman's laugh was humorless. "After what I just said to you? You have to ask?"

"I like men who like women." She lifted her hand again and rested it on his chest. "Naked women."

She felt a wave of heat roll through her, Roman's intense stare like a laser setting her on fire.

"I'm not wearing fuck-me heels," she whispered. "But what I am wearing might be better."

At her last words, Roman dipped his eyes to her lips and then let his gaze roam lower, over her shoulders to her breasts and her hips. When he lifted his head again, he parted his lips, gasped for a breath, and nodded ever so slightly.

Caught in the moment, the anticipation of his touch, Sam held her breath. Nipples painfully hard under the red lacy bra, she licked her lips. Would he kiss her here? Roman lifted his hand and took hers, pulling it from his chest.

Had she gone too far? Read the moment wrong? He was interested in her; she knew that. She wasn't so out of touch that she couldn't read his attraction to her. But maybe her timing was off. Maybe it was wrong to stand here with him now, turned on, body ready to be plucked like a string instrument by his long, elegant fingers, after seeing the young girl inside. Maybe Roman was still thinking about?—

She gasped softly when he turned her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. His breath was warm on her skin. Wanting more, wanting his lips on her neck, her collarbone, on her mouth, Sam stared at him, anxiously, waiting.

He flicked his tongue over the center of her hand, igniting yet another deep, raging fire inside her. To hell with his lips on her neck and her collarbone. She wanted his tongue sliding over her lips. Her hips. At her core, that clenched now in desperation.

A soft, mournful whimper slipped from her lips, and then he was there. His hand released hers on his chest again. She dug her fingers in, the scrape of his linen shirt on her palm electrifying. Dark eyes locked with hers, his warm breath fanned over her parted lips. Sensing that he was waiting for her to stop him, she only nodded and nuzzled his nose with hers.

The music from inside the ship faded away. In the darkness, under the stars, there was only the two of them. Fingers of one hand splayed out over her hip, barely touching her butt, Roman cupped her chin in his free hand and rubbed his mouth over hers.

Afraid, when he drew back, that he was done, that he had changed his mind, Sam twisted her fingers tighter in his shirt and followed him. Eyes narrowed, he watched her, let her kiss him. But once she touched her lips to his, Roman took control. Thumb pressing into her chin and those long fingers holding her face still, he opened his lips over hers and took.

The slide of his tongue inside her mouth chased shivers over her arms, up her back. Holding her in place, he swept his tongue over hers, the kiss part finesse but also raw, as if desire, lust, were at war with the gentleman inside him.

Sam wanted both. She wanted the gentleman who might touch her breasts with tenderness and the raw, needy, man inside him who would spread her legs and drive into her with heat and passion.

She wanted to kiss him, but the way he held her, she could only receive his kiss, moving only her tongue and her lips to kiss him back, her head firm in his grasp. Would he touch her that way? Spread her legs and pin them open to lick her center, the part of her throbbing with flame and need?

The scrap of lace between her legs soaked, she pictured herself straddling him. Putting her mouth on his neck. His arms. Sliding down his body, palms flat on his belly, as she took his cock in her mouth.

"How long does this cruise last?" he mumbled, finally easing his grip on her face. "I need you under me. I need to be inside you, Sam."

"Mmm." Free of his grasp, she moved to press her breasts to his chest and slid her arms around him. She felt him shiver as she trailed kisses down his neck and played with the top button of his shirt. "This is how to gamble." She tipped her head back to look him in the eyes again.