Roman (Raleigh Raptors #2) - Samantha Whiskey Page 0,56
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 furniture.
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.
“You’re not mad, are you?” she asked softly.
“What?” My brows flew up.
“I mean, we finally get together, and I see this whole future stretched out in front of us, but instead of grabbing on with both hands and jumping in, I’m moving out.” Her face crumpled. “You know it’s not about you, right? Because I love you.”
“Teagan, no.” I lifted her to the counter, then stepped between her thighs so we were at the same eye level. “I’m not mad. Am I going to miss you around the house? Hell yes. I’ll miss listening to your music while you paint, and waking up with you pressed against me.”
“At least no one will steal your covers,” she mumbled.
“I couldn’t give a shit if you steal the covers, not when I have you to keep me warm.” I gripped her hips.
“Nice line.” A corner of her mouth lifted.
“You should let me pick you up in a bar sometime. I’ll steal your panties before you even get a drink.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
She laughed, but it faded. “I want to be strong enough for you,” she admitted quietly, lacing her hands behind my neck. “I want to be able to stand at your side…not behind you, and I can’t do that if I’ve never been on my own.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” My heart clenched. “I can trust that you love me. You don’t have to live in my house for me to know that.”
She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Right. And it’s not that I’m not choosing you.”