“Maybe he’s already moved on,” Nixon added, nodding toward the bar where Baker was hitting on a tall redhead.
Whether he’d moved on or had simply decided to grow the fuck up didn’t matter to me. He knew I was with Teagan, and he seemed…okay with it.
Maybe shit wasn’t as complicated as my brain had made it out to be.
Maybe it was our turn—Teagan’s and mine—to have everything click into place.
* * *
I parked my car in the garage and hauled my bag inside, dropping it in the mudroom, ditching my suit coat, and kicking off my shoes. Walt rushed over, and I dropped down to give my favorite guy a little love before finding my favorite girl.
She hadn’t answered her text when I’d landed, which told me one of two things. Either she was pissed at me for something I didn’t know about, or she was lost in a painting. Given the fervor with which she’d thrown herself into her work, I was betting on option number two.
The classical music that filled the house grew louder as I climbed the stairs, which told me it was definitely option two. The music she listened to varied with her moods and pieces. Sometimes it was heavy rock, other times moody alternative, and days like today, it was Yo-Yo Ma.
There she was. My heart lurched, rising to a thunderous roar at the sight of her. A messy bun, teal shorts, and a white shirt splotched with paint was the best welcome home I’d ever had from an away game. I leaned on the doorframe and loosened my tie as I watched her work. The canvas wasn’t recognizable yet. It was all swirling blues, and streaks of purple with bursts of white that I knew she’d eventually blend and shape into something breathtaking. It never ceased to amaze me how she could take the ordinary and make it beautiful.
I slipped my cell from my back pocket and called her. The last thing I wanted to do was startle her, but if I didn’t get my arms around her in the next thirty seconds, I was going to die.
Her phone rang, and she paused, smiling softly when she looked at the caller ID. “Hey, you. Did you guys finally land?”
“About an hour ago,” I answered.
She spun around, her eyes wide as she spotted me. “Roman!” She rushed at me.
I swept her into my arms and held her close, breathing in the scent of wet paint and Teagan and home. “Hey, baby.”
She looked up at me with those eyes, and I was fucking lost.
Then our mouths collided in a searing kiss that had no preamble, no soft beginning. It was all tongues and teeth. Over and over, I took her mouth, groaning when she sucked on my tongue.
She undid my tie without breaking the kiss, then started on the buttons of my shirt. Clothes fell to the floor, and within the minute, we were naked and straining, both ravenous for the other. It wasn’t just hunger. I was starved for her, for the connection I felt when I was buried to the hilt inside of her.
“Roman,” she groaned, leaning back against the heavy oak table that held her paints as I sucked a nipple into my mouth. “God, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I managed before feasting on the other. “So damned much.”
She gripped my hair as I kissed my way down her body, reacquainting myself with every curve like I’d been gone years instead of days.
I hit my knees and spread her thighs with my hands, then licked into her pussy with deep, wet strokes from opening to clit. There was nothing slow or easy about it—I wanted to feel her come.
“God!” She cried, rocking against my face, riding my tongue as I devoured her.
“I fucking love the way you taste,” I said against her swollen, pink flesh. She was already wet and slick, more than ready for me.
“I need you,” she whimpered, her hands tight in my hair.
“You have me,” I promised, then flicked her clit. “You have all of me.”
“I need you inside me,” she clarified. “Please, Roman, please.”
It was the little break in her voice that forced me away from the heaven between her thighs, and the desperation in her eyes that mirrored the need raging through my body.
I stood, then kissed her hard and deep before spinning her to face the table.
She leaned over the expanse, offering me that delectably curved ass, and I nearly came right then. “Take me.”
“I keep promising you these slow, earth-shattering orgasms,” I muttered, lining up the head of my cock to her wet entrance. My hips jerked at the contact.
“You shatter my universe every time,” she said over her shoulder. “Now take me. I need you.” Her skin was flush with want, and damn if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing in the fucking world.
My hands locked on her hips, and I pushed in slowly, gritting my teeth against the mind-bending pleasure until I was seated in her so deep that I wasn’t sure where I stopped, and she began. Every time I took her was better than the last.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my muscles straining against the limits of my self-control.
“God, yes!” She pushed back against me.
That self-control I prized snapped, and I withdrew only to start a punishing, soul-bending rhythm that had us both gasping. She cried out with every thrust, pushing her ass back to meet me so I landed deeper and harder until we were both covered with the shine of sweat.
Fuck away games, I was never leaving her. I couldn’t go a day without her, without this all-consuming passion between us. She was the drug, and I was the addict.
Her cries grew louder and pitched higher as the music around us swelled, the piece driving toward its peak. That same peak was coiling within me, that tingle warning me that I was close. I reached around her hip and slid my fingers between her thighs, working her clit as I drove into her again and again.
“Roman…I’m…” She tensed beneath me, and I drove even deeper.
“You’re what?” I taunted, rubbing exactly the way she liked it. “You feel so fucking good around me, T. You fit like a damned glove.”
“I’m…” Her legs trembled, and I supported her hips so she wouldn’t fall.
“You coming for me, honey?” Another deep drive, another flick.
“Yes!”
“Then come.” I bit down lightly on the flesh between her shoulder and neck at the same time that I pressed on her clit, driving into her so hard I nearly saw stars.
She came in a shudder, bucking her hips and calling my name.
I loved the way she came undone for me. Loved the trust she handed me with her body. Loved the way she laughed and smiled. Loved the fierceness of her heart and the purity of her soul. I just fucking loved her.
I pulled out of her as she came down from her high, then turned her to face me and lifted her to the table all in the same motion.
Her eyes were glazed and her cheeks bright with color as I gripped the back of her neck with one hand and pulled her ass to the edge of the table.
“I love you,” I said as I slid back inside her.
Her eyes flared, and she locked her ankles around my waist and her arms around my neck.
“I don’t just love you, Teagan. I’m in love with you. I have been for years, and I’m done hiding it.” I stroked hard and deep, earning a moan from those sweet lips. “I don’t care if it’s too soon, or if this is insanity. I’ve always loved you.” I punctuated my sentences with deep thrusts, holding back my orgasm by sheer force of will. “I will always love you.”
“Roman,” she cried.
“Only you, Teagan.”
Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I love you, too.”
Relief and joy slammed into me simultaneously, and for the first time in my life, I felt totally and completely whole.
I slowed my pace but kept my thrusts deep—just the way she liked it—making love to her with everything I had to offer. It was all hers, anyway. Only after she came again, gasping my name against my lips, did I let go and fall over that sweet abyss, coming so hard I saw the lights flash behind my eyes.
Our breathing slowed as the cello played on through the speaker, our gaz
es locked as we clung to each other.
“I know it’s not fair,” I blurted as the guilt kicked in. How the hell could I dump that on her, knowing I’d never be able to give her what she wanted.
“What?” She pulled back just far enough to scan my features as she caressed my cheek with her thumb.
“It’s not fair to start this with you—to tell you that I’m wildly, recklessly in love with you. Not when I know we can’t work in the long term.” The words sliced through my soul like a rusty knife, dicing my one moment of happiness.
“Why wouldn’t we work?” She shook her head. “Roman. I love you. This isn’t some fling for me. You’re…you’re it.” She tensed.
Damn it, was this already over before we’d even gotten a chance to explore it?
My stomach twisted. “I can’t give you that dream you’ve always wanted. I can’t give you kids. You know that, and I’m not willing to be something you sacrifice for.”
Her face slackened for a heartbeat before a gorgeous smile replaced the tension. “Is that it? Kids are your concern?”
I nodded.
She squeezed her thighs and drew me closer with her heels at the small of my back. “Do you want kids?”
Had it been anyone else asking, I would have lost my shit. “Yeah,” I said as gently as I could without snapping. “I would love a house full of kids, but you know damned well—”
She silenced me with a kiss. “Then give me kids. We’ll adopt. We’ll foster. We’ll find another way. I don’t have to carry a child to raise one, Roman.”
I blinked. “Really?”
She grinned. “Really. When we’re ready, we’ll figure it out.” Her hands were gentle as she cupped my face. “The roadblock you’ve got in your head doesn’t exist. Not between us. We can have it all.”
I laughed, then kissed her deep, because we already did.
12
Teagan
I sat on the edge of my seat—the same cushioned chair I always sat in at home games. The boys took turns buying out a private suite each home game, and luckily for me, I’d always gotten an invite. Only now, it was different.
Because I wasn’t hanging on every move Rick made. I wasn’t silently praying for him to make some big plays so he’d be in a better mood post-game.
Never again.
Now, I cheered for Roman, which I always had done naturally anyway, but this time…it was different. This time, I knew what he felt like between my thighs, knew the taste of his kiss could empty my head of all sound and logic. Knew that there was nothing better than waking up to him in the morning, and seeing him right before I went to bed at night.
“Damn,” Savannah said from my right. “Detroit has upped their defensive strategy this year.” There was an edge to her tone as she looked down at the field with concern.
“It’s not over,” Liberty chided as if we would’ve ever dared say that.
“We know that,” I said, resisting the urge to bite my nails. We were in the fourth quarter, and we were down seventeen to twenty-one. “Roman’s had one-hundred and forty-four rushing yards this game. How did we get behind?” I groaned.
The Raptors only had two-hundred and twenty-eight total rushing yards this game, which meant Roman was busting that sexy little ass up and down the field. He deserved a win—the entire team did with the way we’d fought Detroit tooth and nail the whole damn game.
“Here we go,” Savannah said as the offense took formation.
I reached for both their hands, each of us holding our breath as Nixon took the snap and handed the ball off to Roman. We launched from our seated positions as Roman ran, those massive thighs propelling him down the field at breakneck speed.
“Go!” I screamed as he juked left, breaking a tackle and barreling past two defensive linemen.
“Holy shit, run, Padilla! Run!” Savannah hollered next to me.
Roman bounced off a defender and sailed past a cornerback nipping at his heels.
“Omigod!” Liberty squealed as he flew into the end zone.
“Sixty-one yards!” I screamed as we bounced up and down, the entire suite roaring with shouts and cheers and cries of victory.
Nixon and Hendrix caught up with him in the end zone, the three doing their signature celebration—a hilariously quick dance with lots of hip-swinging and hustling feet. My eyes were only for Roman as he swished those hips left and right, his natural rhythm made even more evident by the tights clinging to his muscles.
The girls and I hugged, my head buzzing from the rush of the win. Of the comeback. Of the way Roman had played his ass off.
Pride rippled through. I’d always been proud of him, of my best friend whenever he had a game making play, but there was something about claiming him as mine that made that pride deepen.
“Padilla was on fire today!” Savannah said as the suite settled into an excited chatter.
“I wonder why that is?” Liberty asked, waggling her eyebrows at me.
I waved her off, unable to stop the laugh from my lips. “He’s always on fire,” I said.
“Oh, no doubt,” Savannah agreed, reclaiming her seat. It would be at least an hour before we’d meet the boys outside the locker room. Well, Liberty and I would meet the boys, and Savannah would have a post-game sesh with her dad. Her ambitions for sports management were well-nourished with unlimited access to one of the top NFL coaches in the league. “But,” she continued. “He’s been playing with a new spark, lately.” She smirked at me. “As if someone struck a match beneath his feet.”
I gaped at the pair of them, but my heart was so damn full.
I wasn’t looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone was listening to my conversations. Wondering if I’d say the wrong thing at the wrong time, or make a face that was less than flattering just as the press snapped a photo.
I was free.
Free to finally enjoy the game and watch it with two friends who appreciated me and accepted me for who I was. They didn’t try to shape me into someone else. They supported me, built me up, and had my back.
“You two are the best,” I said. “You know that?”
Savannah scoffed as she narrowed her gaze. “Don’t get all girly on me now,” she teased.
I rolled my eyes. “I mean it.”
Savannah visibly swallowed, then begrudgingly accepted my hug. Liberty was all too ready to hug me back, her smile wide and eyes all-knowing.
“I love seeing you this way,” Liberty said.
“What way?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Free.”
Damn her and her psychoanalytic voodoo. She had a superpower when it came to reading people. And she used it for the greater good, which made her a double superhero. She’d sensed the toxicity of my relationship with Rick even before I’d fully awoken to the magnitude of just how not-normal our relationship was.
I swallowed hard, trying like hell to ward off the sticky shame that often clung to my chest when reality hit me over the head about how blind I’d been. How buried I’d been in the life—the one Rick had expertly molded which left me feeling obligated to him, indebted to him, dependent on him.
He’d isolated me on purpose—not for my benefit like he’d always claimed. He’d given me excuses of not wanting me to be influenced by bad people. My friends.
“Hey,” Liberty said, squeezing my hand. “I didn’t mean—”
“You’re good,” I cut her off, hating the pity in her eyes. “You know sometimes I can’t stop the thoughts from shoving me down the rabbit hole.”
“Totally understandable,” she said. “Honestly, it will take time. And there may never be a time where you’re fully capable of stopping the memories.”
I nodded, allowing the truth in her words sink into me. “But I can sure as hell try,” I said, smiling. For once, the grin was not forced after a game—the moment I always waited anxiously in the hopes Rick would exit the locker room with happiness in his eyes instead of disappointment.
Now, I didn’t hav
e to wonder.
I knew Roman would be happy to see me. Not because of his incredible game, but because it was him and it was me and it was us. And there was something so beautifully true and raw to that knowledge that my breath caught in my lungs.
And an idea slammed home in my mind, my heart, my soul.
“What is it?” Liberty asked, tracking the emotions behind my eyes.
“I’m just so damn proud of him,” I admitted that small truth, keeping the bigger revelation to myself.
“We all are,” Savannah said, the three of us filing out of the private suite and heading toward the locker room. “That was a hell of a game. His thighs will be aching tonight, Teagan,” she said with a suggestive tone. “You should probably rub them down,” she said. “For the good of the team and all.”
An elderly gentleman—a previous owner, I believe—coughed from ahead of us, and I playfully pinched Savannah’s arm.
She snorted, throwing the man a smile that danced so close to the line of sinful that the poor guy blushed and promptly upped his pace to get away from us.
“Savannah!” Liberty chided.
“What?” She shrugged. “I just smiled. He was the one eavesdropping.”
“Kind of hard to consider it eavesdropping when you’re loud enough for the entire defensive line to hear you,” I joked.
“Semantics,” she said as she held the door open for us.
We fell into an easy back and forth as we made our way toward the locker room, showing the line of security our passes.
“Nixon’s parents loving the visit?” I asked Liberty as we leaned against the wall just outside the locker room.
“Yes,” she said. “His mother is a godsend. I love bringing Nicole to games, but it’s wonderful to enjoy watching Nix play while not trying to wrestle a seven-month-old.”
“I can’t imagine,” I said, my heart pinching just a bit. The image of an infant manifested behind my eyes—a chubby-cheeked boy with my eyes and Roman’s hair.
Roman: A Raleigh Raptor Novel Page 13