Roman (Raleigh Raptors #2) - Samantha Whiskey Page 0,65

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