I swallowed hard.
“What would I do, Teagan?”
He’d told me a hundred times before. Every time I’d ever contemplated leaving.
“Come on, baby,” he said, nuzzling his chin over my shoulder. “I want to hear you say it,” he cooed as if he were asking me to sing him a song.
“I don’t need to say it,” I whispered into the dark.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not leaving you.” Not when he’d threatened the people I loved most. Not when I knew what the kind of money and power he had could do.
“That’s right,” he said and smoothed his hand over my tummy. “I feel like tonight was the night.”
I nodded despite knowing that it wasn’t. I’d gone to extreme lengths to ensure that.
“You know I’ve always wanted a son. I can’t wait until you give me that.”
“It’s normal,” Drew said, his deep yet understanding tenor drawing me out of myself.
I swiped at the tears on my cheeks.
“To have breakthroughs like this.” He handed me a water bottle.
“Thank you,” I said as Savannah came up beside me, her hand supportively on my back. “I can’t tell you how good that felt,” I laughed.
“I can tell you how much it hurt,” he teased, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry!”
“Don’t be,” he chided me. “Never fucking be sorry for defending yourself. For owning your body and your space. That’s what our lessons are all about.”
I nodded, sucking in a breath that felt like it finally reached the entirety of my lungs.
Slowly, I was coming back to myself.
With the help of my friends, with taking steps to forgive myself for the mistakes I’d made, the blind spots I’d had...
I was healing.
“Same time next week?” He asked as Savannah and I gathered our things.
“Absolutely,” I said. “And thanks again,” I called as we exited the studio.
After a quick stop home for a shower and a change, Savannah and I met up with Liberty to shop for our Halloween costumes. The Raptors were having their annual boo-bash in a few days, and I finally felt ready to face an event again.
Not as Rick’s girlfriend.
Not as Roman’s best friend.
But as me.
The thought of Roman shot a white-hot heat through my blood. Images flashed behind my eyes—his lips on mine, the taste of him in my mouth, his strong body pinning me against the wall outside his home while the warm night air whirled around us.
God, I’d nearly came just from a kiss. Just from him touching my body in a way I’d never experienced—passionate and primal and consuming.
He’d had me pinned against that wall, his muscled body caging mine, and I hadn’t felt trapped. I’d felt safe, wild, but safe. And I wanted more.
That’s what had terrified me. That’s what had stopped me from crawling into his bed and begging him to touch me again.
Because he was my best friend, and if we crossed that line for real? Would we ever be able to go back to normal when it inevitably ended? Because it would end…I had too much baggage, and he was perfect. He deserved a woman who didn’t have flashbacks that brought on panic attacks. Deserved a woman who didn’t come with an ex-boyfriend who’d threatened to hurt him more than once, just for being my friend.
I knew all this…and it didn’t stop me from replaying that kiss over and over in my head. Didn’t stop me from craving his touch, his taste, all hours of the day and night.
“You should’ve seen it, Lib,” Savannah said, snapping me back to the present as we sashayed through the costume shop. “Teagan laid Drew’s ass out.”
I chuckled, heat rising to my cheeks.
“You’re kidding? Drew looks like Jason freaking Momoa’s brother!” Liberty said. “That’s badass.”
“Oh, yeah,” I teased. “Totally badass. Right up to the point where I started bawling.”
Liberty stopped in the middle of the aisle, her big green eyes scanning me. “Sometimes,” she said. “Physical therapy can be just as cathartic as mental.”
She would know, holding a doctorate in psychology. The woman worked part-time in the offseason overseas in countries that desperately needed mental healthcare, and during the season she saw clients in the city.
Part of me had entertained the idea of having an off-record conversation with her about some of the darker details of my relationship with Rick, but I was always too afraid in the end. What if she called me an idiot for staying as long as I did? For believing his threats against my family, myself? For always hoping for him to turn back into the man who’d made me fall for him?
“It is,” Savannah answered when I couldn’t. “Seriously, my first week I was a mess. It’s an intense class. There’s something about working your body for survival and defense that bring down other mental barriers. And Drew is super patient and totally understanding, which helps.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I can’t argue with that.” I fingered through some costumes before turning to Liberty. “How is Nicole?”
“She’s a mess,” Liberty said, a smile on her lips. “A total daddy’s girl. I swear Nix is the only one she’ll sleep through the night for. At nearly seven months, you’d think she would give mama a break.” She laughed, shaking her head.
“I’m so happy for you,” I said. “I’ve always wanted a huge family,” I said without really thinking. I cleared my throat. “When, you know, the time is right.”
“I get that,” she said, pausing on a sexy Alice in Wonderland costume. “But you know, the time is never really right.” She winked at me. “I can attest to that.”
True. She had accidentally gotten pregnant on a trip to Vegas with Nixon, but it had all worked out for the best in the end. Almost like that had been planned by the fates to happen.
An image strung itself together in my mind—Roman holding a newborn, one with my eyes and his dark hair.
I shook off the involuntary image. That would never happen for him, and my heart broke at the thought. There I’d been trying to prevent having children with Rick, and Roman didn’t even have a choice. And his only serious girlfriend in college had left him for it. My soul twisted on his behalf every time I thought about it.
“Nu huh,” Savannah said, snapping her fingers at Liberty. “None of that talk. Not everyone gets to have a whirlwind Vegas adventure and find the love of their life.”
“I wasn’t saying that!” Liberty laughed, poking Savannah in the side.
Savannah dodged another attempt. “Some of us are quite content living up the single life.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Teagan?”
I snorted. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely living it up.”
Lounging around like a sloth in Roman’s house—hiding was more like it. Though I had enjoyed the few games I’d attended. Cheering for Roman was effortless, and there was such a freedom in the games now that I knew there weren’t going to be punishment nights if they lost. Those nights were the longest, where Rick unleashed all of his frustrations on me, whether verbal or physical.
A cold chill raked down my spine, and I shook off the memories.
“Well,” Savannah said as we continued to look through the costumes. “The party will be a blast.”
I raised my brows at her. “Are you going to dress up this time?”
She held up a sexy nurse costume before putting it back on the rack. “What’s the point?” She sighed. “They always spot me for who I am, anyway.”
“As Coach Goodman’s daughter?” I teased.
“Yes,” she said. “I love my dad more than anything, but it’s exhausting being his daughter sometimes. I mean, God, it’s like I have sixty-three older brothers.”
I shuddered at the thought.
“They are a bit protective of you,” Liberty said.
“A bit?” Savannah challenged.
“Better than having no protection
at all,” I said before I could stop myself, then cringed. I shook off their concerned looks and hurried to another rack of costumes on the next aisle.
Thankfully, they let the comment slide. Amazing friends that they were, they knew not to push. And I wasn’t ready to tell them everything. Hell, I’d barely told Roman everything, and I’d known him my entire life.
I paused at a pair of costumes, a smile overtaking the emotional battle raging inside me. I gazed at the costume, picturing just how damn incredible Roman would look in it. His smooth, dark skin, the miles of muscle rippling beneath, his eyes lined in black, and that mouth—
“Oh, Roman’s letting you pick out his costume?” Savannah said from right over my shoulder, and I jumped. She flashed me an apologetic look, but I waved her off.
“He didn’t exactly say I could—”
“You should!” Liberty said, eying the costume in my hands. “That would look amazing on him. And…” she grabbed the one next to it. “This would be phenomenal on you.”
My eyes widened at the costume, the instant denial at her compliment on the tip of my tongue. But instead of voicing it, I swallowed it.
“You know what?” I grabbed the bag from her. “You’re right.”
The girls clapped as I headed to the register and purchased the costumes.
An hour later, I walked into Roman’s house, leaving my keys at the drop station near the door. The act of coming home to him was so natural now I’d almost become dependent on it.
“Roman?” I called as I hurried through the house, excitement building in my chest. Walt greeted me first with a few licks before returning to the loveseat in the living room.
“Kitchen!” Roman called.
The smell of three-chile paste filled the air, making my mouth instantly water. “Birria?” I asked once I stopped on the other side of the kitchen island. Roman smiled and nodded as he laid out some tortillas next to a cutting board filled with chopped avocado, red onion, and cilantro.
“Meat has been in the oven since this morning.”
“You know,” I said, setting my shopping bag on the stool next to me. “If this whole running back thing ever falls through, you could absolutely be a chef.”
Roman furrowed his brow, a laugh on his lips. “Whole running back thing, huh?”
I shrugged. “Always good to have a plan B.”
“I’m sure Abuela would be thrilled to hear you think so highly of my cooking.”
I leaned over the island, lowering my voice. “Don’t tell her, but I think you could give her a run for her money.”
Roman dropped the tortilla, gaping at me. He quickly made the cross motion over his chest, shaking his head at me. “Blasphemous woman.”
We both laughed, unable to keep a serious face for more than a few seconds. Roman eyed the bag next to me. “Get anything good?”
I raised my brows, nervous butterflies filling my stomach. “I did,” I said.
He tilted his head. “Then why do you look like you stole something from the store?”
I snorted, hauling out the costumes. I showed him mine first.
“Cleopatra,” he said, nodding. “Can’t wait to see that.”
“I’m glad you said that,” I said, pulling out his and showing it to him.
“Is that a skirt?” He pointed to the picture on the bag.
“No!” I glanced at the costume again. “It’s a period-authentic warrior’s costume.”
Roman eyed the gold and black material that cut off just above the knees.
“I get that,” he said. “Who is it for?”
I swallowed hard, setting the costume on the island. “You?” I meant it as a statement, but my doubt got the better of me. Maybe it’d been a stupid idea. I shook my head. “Never mind,” I said. “I should’ve asked. I’m sure you’ve already got a date to the event and have a costume planned.”
Roman rounded the kitchen island and scooped up the costume. “You know Hendrix is going to have a field day about this,” he said, eying it. “I mean, look how much leg it shows.”
A laugh rushed from my chest, chasing away the nerves. “It can’t be any worse than the time we went as Peter Pan and Wendy. Do you remember? You got a size too-small in the green tights.” I couldn’t hold back my laugh.
“Laugh it up,” he said, lightly pinching my side. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with the tights.”
“I was eight!” I gaped at him.
He shrugged, leaning closer. “You still don’t seem to have a problem with the tights.”
I swallowed hard, heat blooming under my skin. “Can’t argue with that,” I said. “Plus, we know how good you look in gold.”
He set down the costume, sliding the bag to the floor to take a seat next to me. “Which was your favorite?”
I tilted my head.
“Of our costumes?”
I blew out a breath. God, we had so many to choose from. A lifetime of Halloweens spent together. “I think it’s pretty hard to top the Dread Pirate Roberts and Princess Buttercup,” I teased, and he laughed.
“That dress was terribly uncomfortable,” he said.
“Yeah, but I looked pretty badass in the black get-up and mask.”
“You sure did,” he said, raking his fingers through his dark hair. “When was that?” He asked. “Freshman year of high school?”
“Yep,” I said. “You wore the hell out of that dress. And the shoes.” I grinned at him. “Maybe you should think about popping on heels more often—”
Roman’s arms were around me in a second as he tickled my weak spot just underneath my arm. “Oh yeah? T’s got jokes, does she?” He teased as I squealed in a fit of giggles.
I easily broke his hold, spinning around to face him. “Don’t mess with me,” I said, slightly breathless. “I’ve got Krav Maga skills now. I’d hate for Coach Goodman to sue me because I broke his running back.”
“Oh, is that a threat?” Roman’s eyes lit with challenge and the look stirred something inside me that had me dropping my guard.
Big mistake.
The man moved faster than a blink, he was that quick, and before I could make it two steps into the attached living room, he had his arms around me. “Got you,” he said in victory. “What are you going to do now?” He whispered in my ear, and warm shivers danced along my skin.
No panic flared in my chest.
No ice-cold memories flooded my mind.
I was absolutely, wholly present.
My body a live wire singing at Roman’s touch.
I spun in his embrace until we were face to face. “Do you want me to show you?” I fired back, teasing, light, fun.
Because that’s what this was between Roman and me.
Safe, fun, easy…frustrating as hell.
“Do your worst, T,” he said, his voice low and rough. His lips so damn close to mine in the way we were tangled up in each other.
“You asked for it,” I whispered.
I lifted my right leg while sliding my arm behind his neck, just the way Drew had taught me. And I hauled us back, spinning as we toppled to the ground. Me landing atop him, knees gently pinning his shoulders to the ground.
“I win,” I said, leaning over him.
Roman’s eyes flared wide, heat churning behind them. His hands flew to my hips, and he effortlessly lifted me, spinning until I was the one pinned to the floor.
His body was warm and flush atop mine as he held himself up so he didn’t crush me. My heart raced in a wild rhythm at the feel of him between my legs.
And I wanted him.
I wanted him in every way imaginable. I wanted to taste his kiss again. I wanted him between my thighs with no barriers between us. I wanted to utterly and wholly devour him.
Surprise lit my insides at the certainty because it had been so, so damn long since I’d craved sex. No, more than craved…
When it came to Roman, I needed him like I needed my next breath.
“T,” he said, a whisper between
us.
I hadn’t realized I’d inched off the floor, toward him, his face, his lips—
A blaring timer rang from the kitchen, the sound jarring us both.
“Birras.” The word rolled off his tongue like a groan, and he hurried to stand, easily hauling me to my feet with one hand.
“Birras,” I mimicked him as I followed him into the kitchen.
We ate in a silence that felt tight enough to snap. Probably more on my end than his, because how could he come to understand the need I could barely describe running through my veins? Hell, he’d never had a shortage of gorgeous women willing and ready to please him. I’m certain he’d never felt this need before…one that came from years of unsatisfying sex.
That’s all it was right?
The craving had nothing to do with the way Roman knew me better than anyone on the planet and had done more than any friend should have to do to put my broken pieces back together.
Surely, the ache in my soul had nothing to do with that.
“Harley Quinn and Joker,” he said after we’d cleaned up the kitchen together.
“What?”
“That was a good Halloween.”
“Ah.” I nodded, remembering our earlier conversation. “Kate was so mad at you,” I said, thinking back to our freshman year in college. He’d been dating Kate for almost three months by then.
Roman shrugged. “I’d already promised you.”
“I told you to do what your girlfriend said.” But he hadn’t.
“Have I ever broken a promise to you, T?” He challenged, and I didn’t have to rack my brain to know he hadn’t. If Roman promised something, he meant it.
“Never,” I said. “Still,” I continued. “She wanted you to be the Prince Charming to her Cinderella.”
Roman hissed. “And I wanted to be the villain to your villain.”
I swallowed hard.
“I’m glad I didn’t listen to you,” he said. “I’m glad I didn’t dress up as her Prince.” He shook his head. “She didn’t ever truly care about me anyway.”
Some of that old darkness flickered over his features, and my heart ached at the memory. She’d sliced open the one insecurity Roman had, and I wasn’t sure if he’d ever truly gotten over it. And he deserved so much more than that. More than someone who saw him as flawed.
Roman (Raleigh Raptors Book 2) Page 9