Roman (Raleigh Raptors Book 2)

by Samantha Whiskey

  She rose on her toes and kissed me softly, and I carefully balanced so Alex didn’t go flying.

  “Bleh,” he fake-vomited. “Mom! Uncle Roman is kissing Aunt Teagan, and it’s gross!”

  I laughed against T’s mouth but broke the kiss. The things I wanted to do to her definitely weren’t rated PG.

  “Of course he is,” Elena muttered as her husband, Matt, lifted Alex from my shoulders. “I finally located the pie server, so it’s pie time!”

  Neither Elena nor I mentioned that it had been kept in the same drawer for the last fifteen years. One of these years, he’d figure it out.

  “My parents are coming over,” Teagan said softly, hooking her arm through mine as the kids ran ahead with their parents.

  “Apple pie?” I guessed, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  “You know it.” She tucked a strand of her long, soft hair behind her ear, and I noted the lack of sparkle on her hand and found it dangling on a chain between her breasts. It was invisible to everyone but me…who had zero qualms about ogling her breasts.

  I turned so my back was to our parents’ porches and tugged the chain free with my forefinger so the engagement ring swung in the afternoon sunlight. Then I lifted my eyebrows at her. “Are we keeping this quiet?” My voice dropped along with my stomach.

  Her eyes widened. “What? No. I figured we always do pie together, right?”

  “Right.” It was tradition. Our families were both too big to cram into one house without sending a table up the stairs, but we always gathered together afterward for pie.

  “Your mom makes pumpkin and sweet potato…”

  My brow puckered. “Your mom makes apple and the ever-atrocious mincemeat.” Where was she going with this?

  “I thought we’d make…an announcement?” Her hands ran up my pecs to wind around my neck. “I didn’t want my mom to know before yours. Didn’t seem fair, and we agreed not to tell them over the phone, but with your game schedule—”

  I kissed her quiet, sucking on her lower lip gently. “I fucking love you.”

  “I know. Now get it back on my finger. They’re carrying the pies over right now.”

  I slipped the diamond back on her left hand, then pressed a kiss into her palm before walking her through my back door and into Mom’s kitchen. We switched off houses every year, and this was ours.

  I dished Teagan’s pumpkin pie and gave her extra whipped cream, since that was her favorite part, then joined her on the steps that led to my bedroom. We’d sat just beneath the landing—where we could see everyone but not be bothered—since we were kids.

  Celia’s kids took their own pie and made a dash for the porch.

  “Mmmm. Whipped cream.” Teagan took a dollop on her finger, but before she could get it to her mouth, I swooped in, sucking the digit between my lips and swirling my tongue over her skin until it was licked clean. “Shit. Roman,” she whimpered softly.

  Just like that, I was turned the fuck on.

  My need for her wasn’t dying off or simmering down like I’d assumed it would now that we’d had each other in every position imaginable. It only seemed to grow…and right now my dick was growing right along with it.

  “Follow me,” I ordered, taking her hand and tugging her up the stairs.

  I pushed open the door to my childhood bedroom, abandoned my slice of pie on the desk, and sent Teagan’s to join it. Then I took her ass in my hands and backed her against the door, shutting it in the process as I kissed the hell out of her.

  I buried my tongue in her mouth, taking it with sweeping strokes that varied from deep to shallow, keeping her arching back for more, never settling into a predictable rhythm.

  Then I spun her, pushing her against the wall that joined our bedrooms, and lifted so her legs wrapped around my waist.

  Her fingers tunneled through my hair, and her thighs clenched as she rocked against me, taking us from make-out session to desperation in a matter of seconds. It was easy to pretend I had the power with Teagan. I was bigger, stronger, and had way more sexual experience, so I knew exactly how to keep her satisfied. But in truth, she was the one who held the reins. She had more power over me in the curve of her smile than I could ever muster over her.

  “Fuck, baby,” I groaned in her ear, nipping the lobe between my teeth. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve come in this very room, imagining your hands on my cock? Your tongue in my mouth?”

  She’d been my ultimate fantasy—still was, and I’d somehow managed to get her.

  A wicked smile curved her beautiful lips. “Really?” She bowed her back and slipped her hand between our bodies, wrapping her fingers around my erection through the barrier of my pants. “Allow me to make that a reality.”

  She squeezed lightly, and my knees nearly buckled.

  I took her wrist in hand, pulling the temptation of her fingers from my body, and pinned it above her head. “Play nice.”

  She pouted. “I thought I was being very nice. Or would you rather have my mouth wrapped around you?” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

  Holy fucking shit. I knew what that tongue felt like swirling over my tip, sucking on the head of my cock. My heart thundered at the memory.

  “I would kill to feel those lips wrapped around my cock,” I whispered, grazing over her mouth with mine.

  “Roman,” she groaned.

  “But I’d rather have my face between your thighs, eating up that sweet little pussy for dessert.” My mouth watered just thinking about her taste.

  She sucked in a breath. “That mouth of yours…”

  “You love my mouth.”

  “Not when I can’t have it!”

  I glanced at the door and lamented the lack of a lock. There had never been locks on the doors at this house. “Who said you can’t have it?”

  Her eyes widened as I carried her to the door, then set her down on her feet. Thank God she was wearing ballet flats, because I’d need her to keep her balance. I flicked open the button on her jeans, then unzipped, finding a scrap of silver lace underneath.

  “What are you doing?” She asked, her breaths choppy and uneven.

  I slipped my fingers past the lace of her thong and found her already dripping wet. “God, you drive me wild.” I thrust two fingers into her tight sheath and covered her mouth with my hand as she moaned. “Shhhh, you know these walls are paper-thin, so if you want my mouth, you’d better keep yours quiet.”

  I moved down her body, peeled her jeans and thong along the smooth skin of her thighs, then widened her stance as far as I could with her pants around her knees. Then I had my dessert.

  She was sweeter than pie, more satisfying than any meal I could have ever devoured, and I ate at her with quick flicks of my tongue, sucking her clit between my lips as I thrust into her with my fingers.

  “Oh my God!” She squeaked, fisting her hands in my hair. “Stop. Stop!”

  I froze. Those were words I never pushed past or even tip-toed near. My fingers slid free, and I sat back on my heels.

  “Get up here,” she demanded, yanking on my hair for effect.

  I stood but swallowed any questions I had. If she wanted to stop, we stopped. It was that simple.

  “I’m not going to be the only one with my pants down if we get caught,” she whispered, kissing me deep and sucking her own taste off my tongue.

  She undid my jeans and shoved them down my thighs, taking my boxer briefs, too. Then she gave me a wicked smile and leaned over the desk I’d used for my homework as a teenager. She braced herself on her elbows then looked back over her shoulder at me with glazed eyes. “You’d better make it fast, Padilla.”

  “That’s something you’ve never requested.” My cock throbbed at the sight of her there, her legs barely open, clothed everywhere but at her hips and thighs.

  “Fuck me before someone finds us,” she demanded.

  I braced one hand on the door to keep it shut—just in case, and used the other to guide my cock to her entrance.
I sank into her in one long thrust, and we both groaned.

  “I love you,” I said, my voice harsh as thrust again, hitting her deep.

  “I know,” she responded with a smirk, rising enough for me to bend and kiss her.

  Pleasure barreled up my spine as I took her hard, moving the desk at one point before I softened my blows—much to her disappointment. Her pussy gripped me tight, and as her body tensed, her muscles fluttering around me, I released her hip and stroked her clit to push her over.

  I had to release the door to cover her mouth as she came.

  I buried my face in her neck to mute my own cry as she pulled me over with her.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” I said against her jaw as I slid free, already mourning the loss of her heat around me.

  “Me?” She challenged in a whisper. “We just had sex with both our families downstairs!”

  “Hey, now the kids had already gone outside.” I shrugged.

  She shook her head at me, then tugged her jeans back on, doing a little shimmy with her hips that was about to send us into round two if she wasn’t careful.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she warned.

  I grinned and tugged her in for another kiss. Then I opened the door slowly and made sure the coast was clear so we could race to the bathroom and clean up.

  Several minutes later, we walked down the stairs, hand-in-hand. Our families filled both the living and dining rooms, and everyone looked at us with raised eyebrows and open mouths.

  “We were having pie,” Teagan said lamely.

  Shit, our plates of uneaten pie were still sitting on my desk.

  “Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days?” My abuela responded, lifting an eyebrow from her corner seat. Guess she’d gotten here from Aunt Cora’s just in time. Great.

  I glanced up at the ceiling only to mentally curse. The desk had been right above their heads. There was zero chance in hell I was even going to look at her dad. Nope.

  Teagan turned ten shades of red.

  Well, there was only one way to ease the tension in here. I lifted Teagan’s left hand. “Guess who’s getting married?”

  The room erupted into a chorus of cheers.

  16

  Teagan

  Roman: Gonna be a minute. Coach wants to talk to Nixon and me.

  Me: No worries. I’ll wait.

  I pocketed my phone and sashayed into the lady’s room down the hallway. The sounds of the stadium still echoed in the halls, people celebrating and cheering over the Raptors’ win. Roman had played like a beast again, but it was the efforts of the whole team that had earned us the win in the end.

  I quickly washed my hands, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face as I gripped the ring on my left hand. Our families had lost their minds when we told them at Thanksgiving—which was wonderful considering I was one-hundred percent certain they heard our quick sex-sesh right before the announcement. Just thinking about it had me blushing and blissing-out all at the same time.

  I happily sighed, then reached for a paper towel, my hand slamming into a wide hard something that was most certainly not a towel dispenser.

  “Hello, Teagan.” Rick’s voice filled the small bathroom, and my blood froze. He gripped my wrist, yanking my back against his chest, and clamped his hand over my mouth. I glared at his reflection in the mirror, hating how small and helpless I looked against his massive frame.

  “Don’t scream,” he said in the tone that left no room for argument. Ice-cold panic clawed up my spine, emptying my head of every logical thought.

  Luckily, my body had a new muscle memory to it—thanks to Drew and over a dozen private classes with him. Once I had a second to assess the situation, I snapped.

  I dug my fingers into the wrist over my face, tugging and rotating it as I spun away from his body, quickly slipping his hold.

  He grunted, his eyes flaring as I jerked harder on that wrist.

  “Stop!” He snapped and used all his strength to free himself from my grasp. “Fuck, Teagan, that’s my catching wrist.”

  I backed toward the exit, my palms raised, my feet in the defensive position. “You forfeit the right of protection when you put your hands on my body.”

  He cocked a brow at me, rubbing his wrist before he scanned my body—

  And laughed.

  The sound swirled acid in my stomach, but I didn’t drop my palms.

  Drew had prepared me for situations like this—somehow, we both knew Rick would try to get to me physically at some point. I just hadn’t thought it’d be in the fucking lady’s room while waiting on Roman to get out of the locker room.

  How desperate was Rick to get to me when he knew Roman and hell, Nixon and Hendrix waited not forty-feet from us?

  “You’ve had your fun,” he said, and I tilted my head.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I let you have your little fling, Teagan.” He waved his hands like he was casting off an annoying pest.

  “You told Roman you were fine…you’ve moved on.”

  He shook his head. “It’s time to come home.”

  I gaped at him. “You’re delusional.”

  That vein in his neck throbbed, and I stepped back another inch toward the door. “You belong with me,” he said, his voice deadly calm.

  Always worse than an outright yell.

  “I don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I never did.”

  A devious grin shaped his lips. “Oh yeah?” He asked. “All those times I was inside you?” He took a step closer. “All those times you dug your nails into my back and cried out my name?”

  Acid clawed up my throat.

  “All those times you told me you loved me,” he said, taking another step closer.

  I flexed my palms, my stance ready and waiting.

  He paused an arm’s length away. “Was it all a lie?”

  Angry tears welled in my eyes. “You were the lie,” I spat. “You never loved me for me, Rick.” I swallowed hard. “You wanted to control me. Turn me into a trophy for your shelf.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I wanted what was best for you,” he argued. “I still do.”

  “You have no idea what is best for me. If you did, then you’d know it was never you. It was me. My choices. My passions.”

  Rick’s eyes fell to the ring on my left hand. “Take that off.”

  “Never,” I said.

  “You are mine.”

  “No.”

  “You became mine the second you moved in with me. The second you let me claim your body over and over again. The second you told me you loved me. You couldn’t belong to anyone else.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I belong to me, you possessive asshole.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “You need help, Rick. Honest-to-God, help. People can’t be owned. That’s not real love—”

  “And what do you know of it!” He snapped, and I inched back to the door as he advanced. “I’ll be damned if you marry Padilla!” He drew back his hand.

  I raised my palms, drawing power from my core just like I’d been taught. “Do your fucking worst, Rick,” I practically hissed. “I dare you.” I let all of that rage show in my eyes, the strength I’d built over the last few months.

  His lips parted, calculation churning behind his eyes. He dropped his hand, tucking them into his pockets.

  Cold skated across my skin.

  “You want to see my worst, Teagan?” He said, utterly calm again. “My worst is not protecting your stupid BFF on the field. My worst is going to the cops with the dashcam video I have from when he assaulted me.”

  Rage sizzled in my blood. “You’re a liar,” I said, but my voice cracked. “You’ve always been a liar.” Like all the times he’d told me he loved me right before he hurt me. All the times he’d told me I was too heavy, too dumb, too wild.

  Lie, lie, lie.

  Rick pulled his cell from his pocket, pushed a few buttons, and turned the screen toward me.

  The video filled th
e screen, but it didn’t match my memory, didn’t show the whole truth. No, it only showed Roman flying down his front porch steps, cracking Rick’s jaw with a punch and screaming that he hoped he’d fucking broken it.

  Ice water dumped over my body as the clip ended, that cold right next to the fire raging inside me. Rick pocketed his phone, a smug, satisfied look on his face. “Come home,” he said. “And we’ll forget this whole mess.”

  I shook my head.

  “You wouldn’t want him to get hurt, would you? Wouldn’t want this video leaked to the cops and him to lose his spot on the team?” He snorted. “What else can Padilla do for a living? He’s only ever been good at one thing.”

  “He’s good at way more things than football,” I said. “Incredible. Mind-blowing, even.”

  Rick turned his nose up, his eyes flashing with that monster I’d taken entirely too long to see. “I’m giving you this one chance. If you don’t—”

  “Lie,” I cut him off, that cold hate filling my tone. “You’re a coward.” His eyes flared at the word, but I continued. “Cowards beat up on women and have to threaten them to keep them. Cowards emotionally tear others down to make themselves feel big. Cowards manipulate and lie and do whatever they think is necessary to get their way, regardless of who they hurt along the way.” I took a step closer to him, palms still raised, wanting nothing more than to tear him apart. “You won’t show that video to anyone because you don’t want your own image tarnished. And you won’t miss a block for Roman because the only thing you want more than your power over me is a super bowl ring.”

  He glared down at me but remained silent.

  I waited, daring him to argue with me.

  But he didn’t, so I slowly backed out of the bathroom, and didn’t loose a breath until I’d rounded the corner and locked eyes with Roman as he came out of the locker room, his duffle slung over his shoulder.

  “Teagan?” He asked, his eyes concerned as he read the panic on my face. “You okay, babe?”