Roman (Raleigh Raptors Book 2)

by Samantha Whiskey

  Because he was fucking perfect.

  “What about the time we went as Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf?” I asked, wanting to draw him back to the fun.

  A smile broke his lips as he came back to the present. “Fifth grade. Fun year.”

  I grinned back at him. “We’ve had so many fun years, yeah?”

  This would be the first year I’d get to have fun again with him—the last three having been solely dedicated to keeping Rick from drinking too much. Not that he’d ever wanted to dress up with me.

  “Yeah,” Roman said, and gazed at me for a bit before nodding. “Yeah, we have.”

  I sucked in a contented breath, thinking back on all the truly great memories I had with Roman.

  “What is it?” Roman asked when I’d continued to smile at him.

  I breached the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight. “Thank you,” I said into his neck.

  “For what?” He asked, easily wrapping his arms around my back to hold me to him.

  “For giving me a lifetime of good memories.”

  Ones I now realized were powerful enough to chase away three years of darkness.

  9

  Roman

  The bass thumped through the club the Raptors had rented out for the night. Halloween —when it didn’t fall the night before a game—had been a thing with the Raptors for at least as long as I had been a part of the team.

  Streams of light shot through the fog-filled air, illuminating the people on the dance floor, and I made damned sure I could see Teagan from where I stood at the bar with Nixon. She was currently on the dance floor with Liberty, but definitely had her share of requests. Not that I gave a shit who she danced with—we weren’t a couple…right? But there was no fucking way I’d let Rick anywhere near her.

  Not when she was finally coming alive again.

  I saw it now, the way her laugh hadn’t reached her eyes for the last couple of years. I’d known something was off, but Teagan hadn’t opened up, and I hadn’t pushed. It was none of my business what went on in her relationship, right?

  Right.

  But that didn’t stop the gnawing, sinking feeling in my gut that tackled me every time I thought about how long it had gone on right underneath my nose.

  I wished I would have pushed harder.

  “Nice skirt,” Hendrix laughed, taking the vacant spot at my side.

  “Fuck off. It’s a shendyt.” I glanced down at my bare torso Teagan had insisted on oiling, over the black arm cuffs, to Hendrix’s Carolina Reaper Jersey. “I didn’t know you were a hockey fan.”

  “Who are you supposed to be?” Nixon asked.

  “Only the best athlete in professional sports.” Hendrix grinned and turned around, sporting NOBLE across his back—Nixon’s twin, Nathan. “Heard he’s his mom’s favorite, too.”

  “Oh shit!” I laughed.

  “Seriously?” Nixon sighed.

  “Guy has some serious talent,” Hendrix replied with a shrug. “Heard his brother plays football or something. Not sure.”

  “Nice.” Nixon shook his head as a group of cheerleaders walked up to us.

  “Hey Roman, wanna dance?” One of them asked, batting her brown eyes up at me and laying her hand on my exposed bicep. This one was a brunette with long legs and a playboy bunny costume, but just like the others—I didn’t know her name. Some of the other guys might sample, but I wasn’t an eat-where-you-work kind of guy.

  My gaze immediately drifted to T, who—of course—happened to be looking right at me with kohl-rimmed eyes. She nipped her lip right between her teeth but didn’t slow the swing of her hips as Zedd pumped through the speakers.

  Fuuuuuck, those hips were magical, and her floor-length costume had two slits up the side so they peeked through with every swish her body made to the music. The deep V of her top showed enough cleavage to make my mouth water, and the lights caught on the gold belt holding it all together, taunting me that it could all be undone with a single clasp. The shoulder-length, jet-black wig almost made her seem like a stranger, but I’d know those blue eyes—that body, anywhere. I’d had it against me.

  She’d felt so good in my hands and tasted as sweet as sugar. Everything about her had felt like a dream—which was pretty much how it had seemed in the four weeks since it had happened. Yeah, we’d had a moment a few days ago where it felt like she’d been reaching for a little more, but…nothing. And it wasn’t like I was going to push her. I’d barely gotten my best friend back. I wasn’t about to lose her just because my dick couldn’t keep his opinions quiet.

  “Roman?” The cheerleader asked again, stroking her fingers down my arm.

  Teagan stopped moving for a split second.

  I jerked my gaze back to the brunette and shook my head. “I’m sorry…”

  “Desiree,” Hendrix offered, slapping my back. Guy knew more than a few of them on a personal level. A very personal level.

  “Right. Desiree.” I flashed her what I hoped was an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to say no.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Hendrix said with a grimace. “He’s basically a fucking monk right now.”

  “Shut it.” I drained my glass of water and set it on the bar.

  “What? You are.” He shrugged as a cloud of college-aged girls headed our way.

  Desiree made her exit as Savannah—the birthday girl herself—spun out of the group of co-eds and stumbled.

  Hendrix caught her before she hit the ground and set her back on her feet. No wonder she’d tripped, she was three shots past drunk, wearing thigh-high boots and a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass under a Ramones t-shirt. Of course, she wasn’t wearing a costume. She never did.

  She flipped her long, red hair out of her face and grinned up at Hendrix. “Thanks for the save, Hollywood.”

  “What the fuck are you wearing? Aren’t you twelve?” He looked her up and down, and then his jaw popped.

  “Twenty-one, today. I’m all sorts of legal now.” She winked.

  His jaw hit the ground.

  “Hey, Coach!” I waved at no one, unable to let the moment slide without fucking him up a little.

  Hendrix’s hands shot into the air like he was under arrest. “My hands aren’t on her!”

  I laughed.

  He backhanded my arm. “Fucker.”

  “Wow. Even you’re scared of the thou-shalt-not-touch-my-daughter decree?” Savannah scoffed, flanked by a couple of her college friends.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. You might be sexy as fuck, but a piece of ass isn’t worth my contract.” Hendrix leaned back against the bar, earning him a solid glare from Savannah. “Now, go play in the sandbox like a good little girl.”

  She got right in his face. “And what if someone else wants to come play in my sandbox?”

  His jaw ticked again. “Then I’d say be careful and choose well. The guy who orders your drink second won’t let you come first.” He smirked.

  “News flash, I don’t need a guy to let me come.” She tapped his nose and then stepped back. “I do quite well on my own, thank you.”

  She turned to walk away with her girlfriends.

  “Hey, Red,” Hendrix called out.

  Savannah turned.

  “There’s a difference between an orgasm that you work for, and one that’s been given to you by a man who knows how. Something you might want to remind your little frat-boy sandbox partner.”

  She rolled her eyes and continued her walk down the bar.

  “There was no need to be a dick. She’s still Coach’s daughter,” I reminded him, since Nixon was busy talking to Weston Rutherford, our owner—who was dressed like a 1920’s gangster. Of course, his assistant, Brynn, was in a Flapper costume, complete with feather boa.

  “And she knows I’d fucking kill any guy who did her wrong. Doesn’t mean she gets to fuck with me just because she’s drunk. She knows she’s off-limits
.” He folded his arms and glared at her back, then promptly turned down the next girl who asked him to dance.

  Interesting.

  I locked eyes with Teagan as the song changed, the rhythm dropping from a quick, techno beat to something sultry as Beyoncé sang about being a naughty girl. Her lips parted as her hands skimmed down her costume-clad hips and back up. Damn.

  She tilted her head and crooked a finger at me.

  “Your Cleopatra beckons,” Hendrix laughed softly.

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Please. You guys brought a joint gift for Savannah. You might as well be married at this point.” He scoffed.

  Married to Teagan? Only in my wildest dreams. If I’d even thought I had a chance of making her happy, of her wanting me the way I’d always wanted her, I would have proposed in a heartbeat. I couldn’t imagine a better future than being married to my best friend. But she’d said it herself—she didn’t think of me like that. But the way she’d kissed me…

  She arched a brow, and I abandoned Hendrix without another thought. She was all I saw as I crossed the floor.

  “Dance with me?” she asked, her eyes bright.

  I nodded. Like I’d ever deny her something I had within my power to give? Her answering smile was more than enough in return.

  We moved to the rhythm, but I kept a few inches away…until she put her hands on my waist and slid her way down and back up my body. Holy shit. She kept her eyes locked on mine, and my pulse kicked up a notch.

  “Oh, you want to play?” I dared her with a smirk.

  She tugged her lower lip between her teeth and nodded.

  I tugged her against me with a smile and moved. It wasn’t the first time we’d danced together, but it was the first time we’d ever done it like this. Her soft breasts pressed against my chest as my hand splayed over her lower back, holding her as we dipped and swayed.

  If I wasn’t careful, I was going to be stretching this shendyt way more than the costume allowed for. My blood heated with need. This was why I hadn’t danced with the cheerleader. I didn’t want anyone besides Teagan.

  It didn’t matter that she didn’t want me as more than her friend.

  I’d never push the issue.

  But I was done pretending like any other woman underneath me was even an option anymore.

  Teagan turned in my arms, hooking her hand around my neck as she pushed her ass against me. Her quick, indrawn breath told me she wasn’t oblivious—she felt the proof of how badly I wanted her.

  She dipped and blatantly drifted down my body, using hers to rub against every line of mine. By the time she brought her face back to mine, it took everything I had not to kiss her.

  “I thought the wig might do it for you.” She gave me a wicked smile as my hand stretched over her belly, keeping my thumb from grazing her breasts.

  “Why would you think that?” Why was she thinking at all? God knew I wasn’t, not with her ass cradling my dick, moving with me like we'd already been far closer.

  “You always go for the brunettes,” she said softly, reaching up the back of my neck to get a grip on my hair.

  I groaned and let my lips skim her forehead. “There’s a reason I never touch the blondes.”

  “Not your type?” She tilted her face toward mine.

  “There’s only one blonde I’ve ever wanted.” My heart slammed with the admission.

  Her lips parted, and her eyes flared wide with surprise.

  My lips lifted in a wry smile as her brow puckered in obvious confusion.

  “Dance, Teagan.” I kissed her forehead again and kept us moving to the beat.

  She nodded slowly, then lost herself in the music for the rest of the song. As the track shifted, she looked across the floor and froze, going rigid in my arms.

  Rick stood at the closest grouping of tables, and he must have recognized her at the exact same time because he started in our direction.

  Teagan broke away and slipped behind me, disappearing into the crowded floor toward the back exit.

  I stepped into Rick’s path. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

  His eyes shone with murderous rage. “She’s mine. Keep your fucking hands off her.”

  A mixture of icy wrath and jealousy flowed through my veins, jacking my adrenaline sky high. He’d had her. He’d had the right to touch her, to kiss her, to love her, and he’d used those hands in violence against her and that mouth to demean her into a shadow of herself.

  Fuck that.

  “She belongs to herself, and if you take one step outside that door, so help me God, it will be your last.” I let him see everything I was feeling, and his eyes flared slightly.

  “Rick, why don’t you step off?” Nixon asked as he came between us.

  “Excellent idea.” I turned and followed the path Teagan had taken, pushing open the back door to the crisp evening air.

  Teagan stood on the sidewalk, fumbling through her small purse for her phone.

  “You okay?”

  She spun, her eyes wide with fear for a millisecond before she recognized me.

  “Yeah. Fine. I just…I can’t stay here.”

  “Okay, where do you want to go?” I asked.

  “Oh. Um. I was just going to call an Uber and head home.”

  I brushed the hair of her wig out of her eyes. “Then I’ll take you home.”

  She flushed. “I don’t want you to have to leave. You should go back in. Have some fun.”

  “You’re the only place I want to be tonight.” I jokingly cringed. “Plus, you have my car keys, since this doesn’t exactly have pockets.”

  “Oh! Right. Are you sure?” She looked back at the exit door.

  “More than. Let’s go home.”

  She nodded, then tucked her hand in mine as we walked to my car.

  The ride home might have gone down as the most tension-filled ride of my life. I knew she was struggling with Rick’s appearance, but it had also happened right after I’d pretty much admitted that I wanted her.

  As usual, our timing was fucked.

  What was I even thinking, telling her something like that? She was only four months out of a relationship that had lasted three and a half years. Nothing like fucking up your friendship by announcing a feeling that wasn’t even reciprocated.

  “No trick-or-treaters?” she asked as the gate swung open before us.

  “Country road. Gated entrance. Unlisted address.” I shrugged. “I miss seeing the kids walk up and down the street like they do where we grew up, but it’s the price you pay for privacy. If you want, we can head that way and help them hand out candy.”

  She shook her head. “Not tonight.”

  Annnnnd cue awkward. Again.

  I parked the car in the garage, and we did the dance-around as we made our way in the house, each careful to give the other space.

  “Hey boy,” I said to Walt, scratching between his ears as he raced to greet us. “I’m going to take him out.”

  “I’m getting in the shower,” Teagan announced with a shaky smile and ran toward the guest room bathroom like her costume was on fire.

  A shower wasn’t a bad idea since I was still covered in oil like I was about to climb into the ring for some old-school wrestling. I tried my best not to think about the fact that Teagan was naked at that very moment as I scrubbed myself clean. The bathroom mirrors were fogged up by the time I stepped out of the shower.

  I wrapped a towel around my hips, then walked out of the bathroom to get dressed, rubbing another towel over my head.

  Teagan stood in the middle of my bedroom, wearing only a robe.

  “T?” I stopped dead in my tracks.

  “You said you never go for the blondes because there’s only been one blonde you’ve ever wanted.” She fidgeted with the silk tie of her robe. Her hair was still wet from the shower, her heavy, Cleopatra-style makeup long gone.

  “I did.” Shit. Why the fuck had I opened my mouth?

  “Who is she?”


  I blinked. “Sorry?”

  “The only blonde you’ve ever wanted. Who is she?” She pressed her lips into a flat line.

  “T…” This wasn’t just playing with fire. This was jumping into a fucking bonfire.

  “Because I think I know,” she rushed. “But I don’t want to be wrong and then feel like a complete moron, especially since tonight is the first time I’ve felt sexy in…forever. So if I’m wrong, then I don’t want to ruin the way I feel right now.”

  Could she hear my heart thunder? I could. The damn thing was as loud as a bass drum. I’d never been a chicken when it came to women. If I wanted someone, I told her, and generally we ended up in bed. But T wasn’t just someone.

  “Roman?” Her eyebrows knit, and she was going to rip that tie clean through the little holders if she tugged on it anymore.

  This was it. This was the moment I’d been avoiding…and longing for since I’d realized I was in love with her. The timing was wrong. The situation she’d just gotten herself out of was wrong. But it would be even worse if I let her walk out that door thinking I didn’t want her.

  Crimson flushed from the deep-v of the robe and up her neck to stain her cheeks. “I mean, if I’m wrong, it’s okay. I know you usually go for the tall, leggy models who look like they’d fall over if you blew hard on them—”

  “I go for anyone who doesn’t look like you.”

  Her eyes flared as the words hung between us. “Why?” She finally whispered.

  “You’re the only blonde I’ve ever wanted, and there’s no substitute for you.” My stomach flipped, and my entire body tensed, waiting for her verdict.

  “You…want me?” She stared at me like she’d never seen me before.

  “I’ve always wanted you.”

  She swallowed, lifted her chin, and pulled on the robe’s tie. The knot slid free, and then she rolled her shoulders, sending the silk fluttering to the floor in a deafening whisper.

  I nearly swallowed my fucking tongue.

  She was naked. Wholly, and beautifully naked. Her breasts were heavy and lush, tipped with pale pink nipples that made my mouth water, and her ribs narrowed to the indent of her waist, only to flare to the fullness of her hips. I gripped my towel at the sight of that strip of dark blond hair between her thighs. She gave all new meaning to the word hourglass.