Roman (Raleigh Raptors #2) - Samantha Whiskey Page 0,30
only one kiss.
She held my neck with one hand and gripped my hair with the other, using the wall as leverage to rock back against me as she sucked on my tongue.
My hands gripped her ass tight, memorizing the weight and feel of her against me as I thrust against her, pushing a little harder so I rubbed against her clit through the layers of our clothing. Her fingernails scraped my scalp, and she broke the kiss with a cry. That was the spot. Right. There.
“Roman!”
I groaned, sucking a path down her neck. Even if I never got to kiss this woman again, that sound right there was enough to fuel my dreams for the next fifty years.
She rocked, riding me with abandon.
My hand slid up the soft, ribbed tank top, when she nodded, I grazed my thumb over her nipple. I flicked over the hardened peak, then took her breast in my hand and squeezed gently. It was perfect. Perfect size. Perfect weight. Perfect responsiveness. All of her was fucking perfect.
I took her mouth again, the kiss changing into something utterly primal as my tongue blatantly claimed her mouth. Her grip tightened in my hair and on my neck, and her thighs clenched around my waist as she gave me back everything and then some.
This. Was. Heaven.
Walt barked, the sound breaking through the lust-filled fog in my brain.
Teagan tensed in a way that wasn’t passion and went completely still in my arms.
Just like that, I knew the moment was over. I kissed her softly one last time, then lifted my head.
“T,” I breathed softly.
Her eyes were hazy with need, her lips swollen and her skin flushed, but those same eyes were also wide with an edge of panic.
“You okay?” I asked softly, my dick screaming in protest as I moved my hands to the relative safety of her hips.
She nodded once.
“Want me to put you down?” I kept my voice gentle, which was at complete odds with the inferno raging through my veins.
She nodded again.
“Okay, but you’re going to have to unlock your ankles.” A corner of my mouth lifted in a wry smile.
She glanced down as if realizing she was still wrapped around me, then turned an even darker shade of pink. “Sorry,” she muttered, releasing me.
I lowered her to the floor.
Neither of us mentioned the fact that I was harder than the stone behind her.
“I’m…um…I’m going….I’m going inside,” she finally managed to say with a little shake of her head.
“You should do that.” My smile was instant. Hell yes, I’d addled her. “I’ll grab Walt.”
She blinked. “Walt. Right. Of course.” She swallowed hard, something dark crossing through her eyes before she turned to walk back inside.
Fuck that. Whatever she was thinking wasn’t going to be the last thing in her mind after a kiss like that.
“T?” I called out. “You know what this means, right?”
She turned in the doorway with a furrowed brow.
“Batman, baby. I win.” I flashed her a grin and left her sputtering a stifled laugh as I took off toward Walt and whatever abandoned ball he’d found in the grass.
I may have set out to prove that she was capable of that kind of passion, but all I’d done was proven to myself that we would be explosive together.
I’d just never get to experience it.
8
Teagan
“You want to stay in this stance because it communicates an expression of awareness as well as a warning with your body language.” The instructor—Drew Teller—circled Savannah and me, nodding at our poses—our feet in a ready-to-run position, our palms facing him, our elbows pointed toward the mat we stood on.
“Now, if I’m an attacker,” he continued, stopping before me. “I know that you’re ready to defend yourself. This could be enough to deescalate the situation. The attacker may realize you’re not easy pickings and move on.”
Sweat beaded at the base of my neck and rolled down my back. Roman had helped encourage me the last few weeks to try out this private Krav Maga class with Savannah, who’d been taking it for over a year now.
“This is your fourth session, Teagan,” Drew said. “Are you ready to try some one-on-one moves?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, apprehension blooming in my chest. Drew was easily the size of an NFL player, his muscles carved and honed every day, his dark hair, goatee, and eyes making him look even more menacing. And despite knowing he was kind and perceptive, a sliver of panic tightened my lungs.