Roman (Raleigh Raptors 2) - Page 41

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“Don’t worry. I’ll build these slowly,” I promised.

I meant to.

She didn’t let me.

So we went for four.



The soft cotton sheets were near abrasive to my oversensitive skin as I tugged them over my breasts and watched Roman walk—his perfect ass completely on display—to his bathroom.

I heard the shower start a few seconds later, and I fell backward, blowing out a deep breath as I closed my eyes. We’d worked up such a sweat he’d needed another shower despite taking one last night. I needed one, too, but I was perfectly content to lay here forever thankyouverymuch.

Roman’s tongue, flicking and teasing over my clit, winding me up like a coiled spring.

His hands, so strong and yet gentle as he’d tilted my head to devour my mouth.

That hard, warm body, fitting so perfectly against mine that I couldn’t help but crash against it.

God, the man was a genius in bed. It’s like he knew every spot I had and delighted in exploiting them until I was nothing but a wild, writhing, moaning thing beneath him.

I bit my bottom lip, my body buzzing, electric. My mind spinning.

I waited for the awkwardness to sink on my chest. Waited for the crushing oops! to hit me square in the heart.

I’d slept with Roman Padilla.

My best friend since preschool.

I opened one eye, then the other as I searched inwardly for that hint of regret. The fear and crippling doubt.

I found none.

I couldn’t think or feel around the sensations storming my body, my soul, and all of them voted a big hell yes to every single thing Roman had done to me last night. God, I could still feel the pleasant soreness between my thighs, and yet just the mere thought of him had me slick and aching for more.

In fact, the only thing my mind was chiding me on was the fact that we hadn’t done this years ago.

What would our lives look like then?

Nope. Not going there. Not now.

I would not crush this perfect piece of happiness with labels and explanations and doubts.

Never, not once in my life, had a man taken me to the places Roman had last night. And I knew that had everything to do with our intense connection as much as it had to do with his skills between the sheets.

And great-god-of-orgasms he had skills.

I grazed my hands over my still-sensitive flesh, almost feeling the spots he’d touched me like he’d left a permanent brand.

For the past three years, I’d felt like my sexuality was a service. A duty. A chore. Something I did for fear of punishment or reprimand. And with my figure? I was lucky Rick had loved me. It was a privilege to be loved the way he’d loved me.

Anger bubbled at the lies he’d shoved down my throat for years. At the constant, daily jabs that I hadn’t been smart enough to see what they were doing to me. To my confidence. To my soul.

Roman had spent days, months, hours trying to chase away the darkness that splattered over my soul like blots of ink.

And I needed to show him how much he meant to me.

A white-hot thrill raced down my spine at the thought, and before I could get in my own way, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot to the shower.

The warmth from the steam clouding the room hit my bare skin, and my lips parted on a gasp at the sight of Roman beneath the running water.

His back muscles rippled as he lathered his hair, his smooth dark skin tight and dripping wet. God, just the sight of him made me wet.

I swallowed any apprehension threatening to creep up and yank my ass back to bed and reached for the glass door. I stepped inside, shutting it behind me, the shower big enough for me not to brush against him upon entry.

Roman turned around at the sound of the door closing, his eyes hooded as he looked me over, a hungry sort of need churning there. Right behind that need, there was something else, something deeper, something more. And from the way my heart expanded to fill my chest so much I could barely breathe around it, I was certain that look reflected in my eyes, too.

I reached for him, lightly trailing my fingertips over his chest, relishing the hard feel of his muscles.

“How are you this perfect?” I whispered, taking my time to explore his body under the stream of hot water.

Roman slid his fingers over my hips, gently pulling me to him, soaking us both as he brought our bodies flush. “You’re perfection, Teagan,” he said, his voice raspy. He grabbed my ass with both hands, jerking me tighter against him. “Fucking, delectable.”

Warm shivers danced in my core at the feel of all his hard edges against my softer ones. I walked my fingers up his chest before sliding them around his neck, rising on my tiptoes so I could brush a light kiss over his lips. A tease, one that probably hurt me more than him with the way I ached.

Tags: Samantha Whiskey Raleigh Raptors Romance