I gripped her waist and slid her over my cock as she offered a tit into my mouth.
“You can’t. Be. Serious.” She bounced at the contact. I thrust again before falling backward, drawing her over me. I loved every position with Sophie, but watching her above me was a wild fantasy. The way she rode me made me come in massive waves every time. But we had a lot of pent-up frustration to release. I couldn’t leave her on top for long.
“Why not?” I toyed. The words had fallen out of my mouth, but I didn’t want to take them back. I’d always wanted to marry her. I’d asked once before.
She stopped moving. “Roman?” She swung her leg next to her opposite knee and stared at me.
I sat forward. “Please, please don’t stop the sex,” I begged.
Her hand moved to my face. “Was that a sex proposal or a real proposal?” She scanned my eyes.
I propped myself up on my elbows, catching her lips with a primal kiss. The taste of her pussy mingled with her tongue. She was everywhere. On every part of me. She consumed me. I nudged her backward on the bed and spread her legs.
“Roman?” Her breath was heavy.
I ran a finger to her clit and slid it inside her, making her buck off the bed.
“It was a real sex proposal, Soph.” I curled my finger inside her, watching her pant. “I swear I’ll do the romantic ring thing. But I want to marry you. I’ve always wanted to marry you.”
Her hands clutched at the sheets, and I brought my finger to my mouth and sucked her honey from my knuckle.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned, contorting beneath me.
“Come,” I whispered in her ear without touching her. Her body took off, writhing and pulsing under her release. “Now roll over,” I encouraged once she had ridden the wave.
She turned on her side before pushing up onto her knees.
I growled, taking my place behind her. I spread her cheeks, fingering her ass as she bucked wildly into the movement.
“Do you want to marry me, Soph?” I taunted.
Her head bobbed, but she was too busy trying to move my finger where she wanted it—inside her ass. I probed and breached the muscle, and she groaned, almost collapsing on the bed.
“That good?” I teased, loving that older Sophie was becoming an anal girl, even in small doses.
“Fuck me,” she pleaded. “I need you.”
“And I need an answer.”
I leaned down, licking her rosebud until she growled. I chuckled, loving how wild and confident she was with me. How I could touch her. Please her. Push her limits. How she could push mine. We belonged together. We always had.
I traced her rosebud a few times. She panted and swayed her hips. I sank a finger fully inside her, and she reared back.
“Oh, Soph,” I moaned. She was driving me wild. I nudged my swollen shaft to her heat. After all this time, she was still the one woman who could make me lose my damn mind every time we touched.
I knew she could handle another finger in her hole. I licked my middle finger next and eased it inside her with my index finger. She hissed. My cock didn’t move. I didn’t know how I had the willpower not to fuck her, but watching the ass play was erotic as hell, and she was a fucking rockstar for letting me try new things.
“God, yes, Roman.”
“Was that to marrying me?”
She shook her head. “No, it was to keep fucking me with your fingers,” she smarted.
I plunged them deeper in her backdoor, and she shrieked.
“Like that?” I taunted. Her knees went wider on the bed, and suddenly my fingers were in deeper. Oh, my sex kitten. She knew exactly what she was doing. I plunged them in and out. My dick was ready to explode. She clenched the tip with the strength of a fist. This was getting dangerous. I had other plans first.
“I know something you love, Soph.”
I began to fuck her pussy. Slowly at first. Deep. Long. Slow. Steady strokes.
My fingers moved with one rhythm and my cock with another. Both made her thrash under me.
“Roman.” She panted. “It’s never been this intense. I want to come.”
“And I want to marry you.”
Her palms slapped the pillows and she pushed backward, taking me to new depths. I gave her everything I had. Pleasure. Sensation. Fullness in every place I could fill her. My body covered hers, and I kissed her shoulder. She groaned for me to give her an orgasm. She begged for it. I had the magic word on the tip of my tongue. But so did she.
27
Sophie
I didn’t know if he was toying with my emotions, pulling strings to make me come and profess my lifetime of love at the same time, or he meant every single word, or he was binding us together with physical energy. Either way, I was in over my head. I couldn’t form thoughts or words. He was asking too much. He was asking me for everything.
The sensations blazed between my legs. His fingers singed my rosebud. And his cock... Oh, fuck, his cock was everything.
I rocked against his beautiful slow, thrust. He took his time searing us together. Everything burned and blistered. I licked my lips, breathing faster and harder for my release. But I knew it wasn’t a release he’d give me until I said the word.
He wanted to marry me. The first time Roman proposed, there had been roses, candles, and a cheap ring that he promised he’d replace someday when he was signed to a major team. It was the day after I graduated from college. The proposal that had all the romantic ingredients had led to broken promises and a string of lies. This one was different in every way. Spontaneous. Erotic. Intimate.
“Oh, I’m so fucking deep, Soph,” he growled. He didn’t have to tell me we had found a new cavern of bliss. I felt it. A spot that ached with agony for him to strum with the tip of his cock. Each time he reached it, I cried a little more. We grew a little closer. I became a little more desperate.
“Oh, Jesus,” I sputtered when he began to stretch and spin his fingers. I’d never been more bare. More his for the taking.
“Wrong word,” he growled. “Try again.”
My tits grazed the pillows. Every nerve was alive. Every surface of my skin was slick with sweat and had been kissed by Roman. I was his.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Yes, Roman.”
“Fuck. Soph.” He sheathed himself fully, and we both moaned at the intensity of the moment.
“I said yes,” I pleaded. “I’ll marry you. Now say it,” I begged. “You promised you’d say it.”
I felt his breath on my ear. His teeth against my neck. “Come.”
My eyes closed, and the world spun out of focus. There wasn’t one orgasm but an avalanche that seemed to coat my body in cascades of ice and snow. I shivered enough to know it was ice. He pounded and slammed into me, driving with such force we both lost our breath and beats of our hearts.
I twisted to kiss his mouth. Our tongues twined as we panted. He grunted.
“You’re always going to be mine,” he promised through labored breaths.
I nodded as the final stroke took us over the cliff. Our bodies shook with pleasure. He erupted, filling me like he never had. Our bodies stilled for a slow second, realizing this was forever.
He helped lower me to the bed, tucking his arms around my waist and kissing along my back. The slickness ran between my thighs.
“Did you mean it?” I whispered. “If you want to take back the sex proposal, I think you have a thirty-second window. I won’t be angry. I swear.”
He shook his head. “Last time I asked you to marry me, I didn’t have enough money to buy you a ring. I was living out of motels and sharing rides with roommates.” His lips pressed to my skin. “This time I’m going to buy a rock so big I can see it from the goal when I look at you in the wives’ box. I’m not taking back anything I said. You’re mine now.”
I laughed. “You think I’m sitting with the wives?”
He rolled me under him. “Yes.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Soph, there’s something I need to say.”
I touched
the sides of his temples, pushing back the wave of hair. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t understand. “For what?”
“I never told you I was sorry for walking out on you. I haven’t said it once. Not in any of the talks we had. Not on our date. I should have been saying it a hundred times a day. I’m sorry. So damn sorry.”
I brushed his cheekbones. I couldn’t believe this was the face I was going to see the rest of my life. Brilliant blue eyes and a perfect mouth.
“I know, Roman.”
“But I didn’t say it.”
I smiled. “That’s not always how you tell me things.” I sighed. “I knew when I saw you on the sidewalk. And you’ve shown me every day this summer.”
He laced his fingers through mine. “I don’t know how you’ve put up with my moody ass.”
I giggled. “I think it’s just for the orgasms.”
His eyes widened. “Using me for sex? Wow.”
“And apparently I’m getting a really big diamond.”
I laughed as his mouth descended on mine.
* * *
We had sex again. We swore we needed to expel as much sexual energy as possible because I refused to have sex in Ruby’s guestroom. I thought we were more addicted to each other than we had ever been. I didn’t want to stop tasting him, kissing him, stroking him.
Roman zipped up our bags as I buttoned my shirt. It was close to eleven, and we needed to check out. We stared at each other.
“We’re really doing this?” I asked.
“Yeah. We are.”
“I want to call Lee. Is that crazy?” Telling someone would make it feel more real.
“I think we should tell my mom first.”
I nodded. “I agree. Will she be happy for us?”
“She has loved you like a daughter for eight years. She’s going to be ecstatic.”
“Don’t ask about my dad,” I warned. “He’s going to be trickier. And he extended his stay in Germany longer. I have no idea when he’s coming home now.”
“I think I knew he would be a tough sell after our last engagement.”
I didn’t want to walk out of the suite. “I don’t know what we do next. We have a lot of messy problems. I have the shop and the apartment. You have training camp and pre-season game travel in a few weeks.” I sank into a chair. “We don’t have enough time to figure any of it out.”
“Are you talking yourself out of it?”
I shook my head. “No. But what’s the way through? Where do we live? What if you get traded?” There were remnants of panic surfacing. “Do I sell the Golden Page? Should I just lease it?”
He knelt in front of me. “Hey. We’ve got this. If I get traded, the answer is simple. We go where the team is. Together.”
My eyes lowered to the cheap carpet. “I don’t want to move from city to city. I can’t live like that. It’s why I’m in Penny Hill. You know how I feel about moving around. I hated it. I never had friends, Roman.”
“I’m not leaving the Dires anytime soon. You can move to Richmond and we can buy a house. Have babies.” My stomach flipped. “They want me to stay. I know it.”
“How can you be so sure? Players get traded every day.”
He gripped my hands. “They’ve made an investment in me, and I’m with them. Trust me.”
“You want to have babies?” I was eager to hit replay on that statement.
He nodded. “I do.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “It’s going too fast now. I think I’m freaking out. We have nowhere to live.”
He smiled. “I guess you’re allowed to freak out once in a while.”
“How many?”
“Two or four?” He answered without skipping a beat. His lips brushed over my mouth. “How many do you want? We should have an even number. I like the number four, though.”
My heart started to race. “You’re an only child. I’m an only child. Not just one?”
He shook his head. “Not one. I want to get you pregnant a few times.”
My core twinged with a hormonal burst of sensation. I swore if Roman wanted to get me pregnant from kissing me, he could.
“Later, right?” I squeaked. “After we’re settled and we figure everything out? After we’re married?”
He chuckled. “When you’re ready.” He cupped my cheeks. “You tell me when. I want to start a family, but not until you do.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
He kissed my forehead. “I love you, too. Come on, we have to figure out the rest of our lives now. Caf-Cup? Seems like the place to do it.”
I nodded, suddenly craving caffeine, and we walked out of the suite.
28
Roman
“Something seems different today.” The light hit the waxy leaves of the plants lining the room. The noise machine had been changed to a different setting. I thought it was ocean waves.
I rotated from the tall bookcase toward Dr. Falcon. “Does it?”
“You’re not scowling at me. That’s a first.”
I chuckled. “Come on, doc. I’m not that bad, am I?”
She peered at me. “You’re not the textbook definition of a model patient, that’s for sure.”
I shrugged. “I might have some news.”
“Oh? And you’re going to tell me? We’ve hit a breakthrough.” I saw the way her lips slanted. I got it. I deserved the sarcasm.
“I’m getting married,” I announced, grinning like a damn fool.
“Congratulations, Roman. That’s big news. A huge step.” Her words were measured, not as ecstatic as how other people reacted when they heard Sophie and I were engaged. The first question that followed was always about the ring.
“What?” I tried to read her blank expression. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ behind your congratulations?”
“Is it Sophie?” she asked.
“Of course. Who else would it be?”
“No one. I want to make sure I have everything correct. You don’t share a lot about women close to you.” She eyed, me and I knew she was right. I had cruised through months of sessions with the bare minimum contributions. “How did you two make the decision to get married?”
Eventually there would be a story we could tell people in social situations. There would be a ring. Platinum, a knuckle-full of diamonds Sophie could flash to the world. The method I had used to propose to Sophie was too intimate. Too fucking personal to share with anyone. Though it seemed spontaneous, I’d known making her my wife was the only thing I’d ever wanted. I couldn’t relive the night in the suite with Dr. Falcon even if she was bound to confidentiality. That night belonged to Sophie alone.
“We were going to get married a long time ago. This time I know we can get it right.”
“You were engaged to Sophie before?”
I exhaled. “Yeah, but I don’t want to dwell on that engagement. This is the one that matters.”
She was studying me. The way she always did. Steady gazes. Quiet questions. Long silences she waited for me to break. I’d managed to stay consistent all summer—so had she.
“Why did the last engagement end?”
I groaned. “Really, doc?”
Her shiny black strands of hair shimmered when she nodded. “Really, Roman.” She pressed her lips together.
I rounded the chair and plunked down. “I hurt her. I broke it off. I set fire to every good thing she did and walked out. It was my fault. Okay? It ended because of me.”
“That’s not always an easy thing to admit.”
“It’s the truth.”
I’d hated myself for it for four years. I'd hated that I wasn’t strong enough to stand up against Feliks. Hated that I'd been powerless to stop him. Hated that I'd lied. Hated that it had haunted me. Hated that I had caused her pain. Not ripping-off-a-Band-Aid pain, but real carving-out-her-heart pain. The worst part was that I had used a dull blade to do it. The scars were still there.
�
��But you two have come to an understanding about your previous engagement? Forgiven each other for the past?”
“There was nothing for me to forgive.” I stared at Dr. Falcon. “Sophie is the one with the strength to take me back. She is the bigger person, no doubt.”
Dr. Falcon observed me. “You don’t think you had to make room to forgive yourself?”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth felt dry. There was a small glass pitcher with water on the table in front of me, but I didn’t think I deserved it. Not a single drop of cool comfort.
“Who says I’ve forgiven myself?” I lifted my head. My voice was low, barely audible, but I knew she heard me. The lump in my throat hadn’t moved. I’d never said anything like that out loud before.
“Why don’t we work on that in your next session?” she suggested. “It’s a good place to start next time. Do you think you could agree to that?”
I nodded, paralyzed with the admission I had voiced.
Dr. Falcon folded her legs, indicating our time for the day was up. I needed to sit a little while longer. It was too soon to rush out like I regularly did.
“It’s okay if you need to take your time, Roman.” Her voice was soft.
I haven't forgiven myself. I’d tried to put everything back together for Sophie. Made amends. Thrown myself at her feet. Promised. Sworn. Wooed her. Loved her. Made love to her.
I haven't forgiven myself.
* * *
“What is this?” I balked at the bolts of fabric blocking my entrance to the dining room.
“Don’t look!” Sophie shrieked, rushing from the table to close the doors. They thudded together two inches from my face. I didn’t bother to peer through the gap.
“Does this mean we have to talk through the door?” I asked.
One door whipped open, and my mother closed it behind her as she slipped into the foyer. “We’re going over patterns and fabrics.” She smiled. “Sophie wants everything to be a surprise. You can’t go in there. Strictly off-limits.”
“You’re looking at dresses?” My eyes bulged.
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