Roman (Raleigh Raptors Book 2)

by Samantha Whiskey

  But we’d already had that talk, and I hated that it was a concern for Roman about my commitment to him. I’d never leave him because of something he couldn’t control, and when the time came? We’d start our family the way we wanted to, on our terms, no one else’s.

  My breath hitched as the doors swung open, and I let that flutter in my heart ground me in the present. The earlier revelation spiked to the forefront of my mind, and I held onto that notion, knowing I had a lot of explaining to do once we made it home.

  Roman filed out the door after Nixon, and I couldn’t stop myself from bouncing up and down. He met me halfway, rushing toward me and scooping me into his arms.

  “One-hundred and forty-four rushing yards, babe!” I squealed as he walked us down the hallway, oblivious to anyone else around us. “And a freaking sixty-one-yard touchdown for the win!” I planted a kiss on his lips, my toes curling in my shoes that hung above the ground as he continued to haul us out of there.

  “Goddamn, T,” he said against my mouth, his tongue teasing the seam of my lips. “I love seeing you in my jersey. Love knowing you’re up there watching me. Cheering for me.”

  “I always am,” I said, and he flashed me a knowing look that was equal parts mischief and pride.

  I continued to kiss him all the way to his car and didn’t let go of his hand the entire ride home.

  After we had a quick celebratory dinner, Roman rounded the kitchen island, and I could tell from the look in his eyes that I was going to be dessert.

  Heat flared down my spine, anticipation coiling my muscles.

  “Wait!” I said, stopping his approaching lips with my finger.

  He sucked my finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the tip. My eyes rolled back in my head for a second, but I sucked in a breath to ground my mind.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said, and he instantly took a step away from me, eyes wide, clear.

  “What’s up?” He asked, his voice low and rough as he slid his hands into his pockets. The move looked like he was worried what he’d do with them if he left them free.

  I grinned a little at the motion before crossing the distance between us to stand before him. “Do you know how happy you make me?” I smiled up at him, and he blew out a tight breath. I tilted my head—was that relief I saw in his eyes?

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, Teagan,” he said, his right hand shifting a little in his pocket.

  “You always have,” I admitted. “My best friend, my partner in everything. My supporter.” Emotion clogged my throat. “And now…with what’s going on between us…” I bit my lip to keep from crying. “I want to move out.”

  Roman jolted, shoving the hand that had been about to come out of his pocket further in it. He took a step back, then another, shock and regret and panic coloring those dark eyes.

  “No, Roman.” I cringed and quickly raised my hands at his retreat. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

  “Teagan?” He arched a brow at my rambling.

  “Okay,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair. “Let me explain.”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding a bit rapidly. “Please, do.”

  I tried not to laugh at the tease in his voice. “I’ve never been happier in my entire life than when I’m with you. And a part of me has always known that.” My eyes lilted to the side, a thousand memories playing on full-speed through my mind, filling my heart with each realization of how important Roman had always been to me, and what it meant now. “And I don’t want to move out, but I need to.”

  He tilted his head, some of his dark hair falling across his brow.

  “I need to stand on my own,” I continued. “Be independent for myself, and for you. I want to be a true partner to you, Roman. Not just the best friend who came to crash at your house and ended up staying forever.” My eyes widened, and I hurried to continue. “Not that I’d stay forever. I mean, I would.” I cringed again, and Roman laughed. “I’m not saying you’d want me forever…” My voice trailed off with a huff, and I raised my hand. “Can I start over?”

  Roman kept laughing as he broke the distance between us, sliding his arms around my back to haul me to him. “You don’t have to start over,” he said, teasing my nose with his. “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded.

  “Of course, you do,” I said. “You’re perfect.”

  “You are,” he chided before nipping at my bottom lip. Instantly, my thoughts were far from apartment hunting and closer to Roman hunting. “And I completely understand the need to take ownership of your life.”

  A soft sigh escaped my lips at how well he understood me.

  “But,” he said, and I held my breath. “Can I beg one thing?”

  I nodded, unable to find my voice.

  “Can we schedule sleepovers?” That sly smirk shaped his lips, and I matched his happiness with a smile that nearly hurt it was so real.

  Roman understood me.

  Respected me.

  Supported me.

  He didn’t try to sway me. Control me. Or tell me he knew what was best for me.

  And I may have melted a little more for my best friend right then, just for that simple acceptance, if I wasn’t already a complete puddle for the man.

  “Yes,” I said and slanted my lips over his.

  He scooped me off the floor, and walked us to his bedroom, barely breaking for a second before he laid me on the bed.

  “Since you’re moving out,” he said, trailing his fingers along my thighs as he parted them enough to settle between them. “I better make use of the time I have you here.”

  Warm shivers danced over my skin as he crushed his lips on mine, claiming my mouth until I was breathless.

  Then he did the same to my body.

  Until we were both limp and sated and utterly, truly happy.

  “A walk-out is all you have available?” I asked the leasing agent as she showed me around the modest yet chic two-bedroom apartment.

  “Yes,” she said. “This unit just became available, and it’s our only one for now. Another lease is scheduled to end in six months. It’s a third-floor level.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, rolling my shoulders as I checked out the guest bedroom. The Krav Maga class this morning had been brutal, and my muscles were aching because of it. But, at the same time, it had been so damn empowering. I felt stronger with each class, mentally and physically.

  Almost strong enough to face Rick on his own territory and get my stuff back.

  Or, one thing in particular.

  My heart ached for that hidden shoebox, but I placed the thought on the I’ll-deal-with-that-next list. Right now, I needed my own place. And this was the fourth apartment I’d seen today, and quite frankly, it was the only one I wanted.

  “There is a coded gate and security on-site?” I asked, mentally picturing the guest bedroom filled with canvases and supplies instead of a bed.

  “Yes,” she said, following me as I checked out the master bedroom.

  Heat rushed to my cheeks as I envisioned all the ways Roman could make me scream in this room and vice versa. Not that Roman screamed—he did this primal growl thing that was come-worthy in its own right.

  And now I wanted him.

  Brilliant.

  “It’s pet friendly?” I asked as we worked our way to the small living room and attached kitchen. The open floor-plan definitely helped make the meager square-footage seem like a lot more.

  “There are certain breeds that aren’t allowed, but with deposit and an extra fee, we’re definitely a pet-friendly establishment.”

  “German Shepherds?” I asked.

  “They’re good to go, here,” she answered.

  I nodded, envisioning Walt claiming a spot near the walk-out patio by the sliding glass door when he came over with Roman for sleepovers. I also wanted to get a puppy someday and raise it, train it, just like Walt—they were one of the top-rated protective breeds. Not that I needed protection,
but the security Walt had offered while staying at Roman’s was a comforting feeling. I just had to hope when the time came, the apartment wouldn’t up my rent for having two of them technically when Walt visited.

  Roman wouldn’t have an objection to a puppy and a full-grown dog living together. And he has all that land...

  I shook off the thought, internally telling myself to shut it down. I couldn’t simply fall into Roman’s fairytale life with his beautiful house and perfect kisses in the morning and damn it why did I have to be independent? Wouldn’t it be easier to just move in with him officially and spend the rest of my life worshiping his glorious body and laughing at the wonderfully ridiculous bets we constantly engaged in?

  It would be easier, but it wouldn’t be fair.

  He needed to know that I wanted him for him. Not for the easy-living he had to offer.

  I flicked the deadbolts on the front door, not at all acknowledging the curious stare the leasing agent shot my way. I did the same on the back door that connected to the small patio, then glanced around the space, a smile tugging at my lips.

  I’d stand on my own here.

  I’d paint here and create here and sell my work here.

  And I’d let Roman come over and play house here.

  I nearly laughed at the last thought, then sucked in a deep, satisfied breath.

  “I’ll take it,” I said, a sense of accomplishment filling me. I’d sold my four commissioned paintings last week, which gave me just enough for a down payment and maybe a week’s worth of groceries. But I’d work hard—I already had an inbox of requests to get started on. Most were fanart pieces—customers wanting mashups of their favorite fictional characters or actors or a scene from a book they were writing. Those were my bread and butter.

  I loved what I did, and now that I could do it without reprimand? I couldn’t wait to see where it would take me.

  And in the meantime?

  I’d just have to take Roman back to when we were broke teenagers and could only afford box mac n cheese again. At least, while he was at my place anyway.

  My place.

  I loved the sound of that.

  13

  Roman

  “You know, you’d have a lot more things to unpack if you let me get your stuff from Baker’s place,” I said as I looked around Teagan’s new apartment.

  It was in a good building in a nice neighborhood, so that was comforting. Not that it didn’t sting that she didn’t want to stay at my place anymore, but I understood it. She’d just gotten out of an overwhelmingly intense, controlling relationship where she hadn’t been allowed to have anything of her own…only to jump into a relationship that was equally intense for way different reasons.

  We both felt way too much, way too fast, and yet nothing had ever felt more right in my life. This wasn’t some stranger—it was Teagan. I knew her almost as well as I knew myself.

  “I know.” Her lips pursed as she took in the boxes that now lined the living room wall and contained almost everything she owned…which wasn’t much. The rest of it had already been set up in her guest bedroom, which served as her studio. “There’s only a few things there that I really care about.”

  “Then at least let me get those for you.” I wound my arms around her waist and tucked her in close. I didn’t want her in the same room as that abusive asshole if I could help it.

  She smiled up at me, then kissed my chin. “Thank you, but it’s something I have to do for myself. Besides, if he really accepted our relationship as easily as you said he did, then there’s no reason for you to worry.”

  “I’m always going to worry.” It had been a week since Rick’s blasé reaction to Teagan and I being together, and four and a half months since she’d shown up on my doorsteps wearing his fingerprints. He hadn’t so much as looked my way during practice, and he’d nailed every block for me at that last game, so I was feeling pretty good that he’d moved on. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to worry about her directly confronting him, though.

  She sighed and pushed out of my arms, heading toward the stack of boxes. “I get that. I do. But whether or not I go is ultimately my decision.” Her gaze snapped toward mine with wide eyes as her cheeks flushed. “And I know you know that. I know you’re not him. I just feel like I need to shut that door with a deadbolt, and it’s not going to stay shut—not in his mind—unless I’m the one slamming it home. He probably thinks you’ve got me locked away or something.” She ended that last part in a mutter.

  “Well, now you have your own place,” I answered with a forced smile.

  I understood it. I really and truly did. She’d run to me for a rescue, and I’d given her exactly what she needed, for as long as she needed it.

  It didn’t matter that I needed her in bed with me when I woke up, or that I needed to hear her voice when I got home from work. That could all come later. It had to.

  What she needed now was to stand on her own two feet—to know she was strong enough to do it. That way, when she came back, and eventually she would, it was because she chose to, not because she needed to.

  That little box burning a hole in my pocket was just another choice I wanted to give her. Was it too soon? Probably. But I wanted her to know that her choice to move out didn’t change the way I felt about her, or our future.

  The doorbell rang, and her eyebrows puckered. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

  “I am,” I answered with a grin, jogging over to open the door. Bulky delivery guys stood at the threshold, and one by one, their eyes popped wide as they recognized me.

  “Hey there.”

  “You’re really Roman Padilla,” one of them said, thrusting a clipboard in my general direction.

  “I am.” I took the board and scanned for the little box I’d need to sign.

  “I mean, the order said Roman Padilla, but we all figured it had to be a coincidence or joke or something,” another said, blatantly staring.

  “No coincidence.” I signed my name and handed the board back over before turning toward Teagan. “I bought you a housewarming gift.”

  She arched a brow. “It had better not be an apartment-worth of furniture, Roman, or so help me God, they can take it all back right now.”

  I clasped my chest. “I would never! It’s just a bedroom set.”

  She shook her head and sputtered.

  “Guys, it goes in the back. Give me just a second?” I said to the delivery men.

  “Absolutely. We’ll just get it from the truck.” They glanced between my girlfriend—who openly glared at me, and ran.

  “Teagan, baby,” I said gently, moving toward her with my hands up.

  “I told you not to spend your money on me!” She folded her arms across her chest, but she didn’t push me away as I wrapped my arms around her.

  “Okay, well, you also said we could have sleepovers, right?”

  She nodded, bumping into my chin.

  “Which means I need somewhere to sleep, and I’m sorry babe, but a blow-up mattress isn’t going to cut it. Not the way we like to fuck. We’d pop that thing before properly christening the apartment.”

  She scoffed, then laughed. “God, your mouth.”

  “It’s true.” I cupped and tilted her face so I could see her. “Could you imagine being in the middle it, feeling me taking you so hard that you’re screaming with pleasure, clawing at my back, arching those incredible hips back at me—”

  “Roman,” she sighed, melting.

  “—and hearing your bed pop?” I widened my eyes in mock innocence. “Just think what would happen if I hurt myself and had to explain to coach—”

  Her face turned beet red, and she slammed her hand over my mouth. “Not another word.”

  I licked her palm as the delivery guys rang the doorbell again.

  “I can’t with you,” she muttered, shoving me away and marching toward the front door. “Bedroom is in the back,” she begrudgingly admitted, then led the way so she could show them where to set up the furni
ture.

  She started unpacking the few kitchen things she’d bought, pausing to glare at me every so often as I helped.

  Okay, I was a shit liar. I wanted her to have a big, comfy bed so she’d sleep peacefully. I didn’t give a shit if she’d only had sleeping bags—I would have slept on the floor every single night if it meant I got to wake up next to her.

  Once the delivery guys were finished, I signed a few footballs for them and snapped some pictures, laughing that they’d come prepared “just in case,” I’d really been…me. Then I led Teagan back to her bedroom.

  Her jaw dropped as she took in the sleigh bed with its curved, feminine lines and pale green bedding. “This is just like the one…”

  “You said you loved,” I finished for her. She’d been clicking through a popular website, gushing over the set a couple of weeks ago.

  “You noticed?” she turned to me, her eyes shining.

  “T, I notice everything about you.” I brushed a strand of hair back with my thumb, caressing her cheek. “And if you don’t like it now that it’s here, sell it. I don’t care. I just wanted you to have something you loved—something you didn’t feel like you had to settle for. Something…perfect.”

  She leaned up and pressed a kiss to my mouth. “I already do.”

  “I’m far from perfect.”

  “Not to me.” She kissed me again, and that familiar heat spread through my limbs. God, would it always be like this? The need I felt for her never died out. It was a raging fire or a burning ember, but always there, smoldering, waiting for the first hit of oxygen to flare up.

  “Are you all moved in?” I asked, trying to keep a level head.

  “There’s two more boxes in the car.”

  We walked hand-in-hand to where my car sat parked next to hers, then unloaded the last of the boxes and headed back into her apartment. It smelled faintly of wet paint and new carpet, and I had to admit that I loved its proximity to my house. Fifteen minutes was easy.

  “Last boxes are here, and you’re officially moved in.” My nerves kicked in as we set the boxes on her kitchen counter, and she bit her lip, obviously feeling just as unsettled.