Roman (Raleigh Raptors 2)

This was me when not forced into cocktail dresses or black leggings with black tunic-tops or black, black, black.

I’d used to enjoy the dark color. Used to like pairing it with a pop of color on my eyes.

Now, I hated it.

I longed for color, for life, for anything that would remind me I used to love my body.

“Yellow makes your skin look sickly.”

“Blue only magnifies those love handles you have.”

“Black is sexy. Sleek. Black makes you look mysterious.”

I clenched my eyes shut.

Stop, stop, stop.

I did my best to shove Rick’s voice out of my head, hating that it had proved harder than the act of leaving him, which was a feat in itself.

I thought of all the dead roses Roman or I had thrown out over the last few weeks. The constant texts and calls or extravagant gifts. All of which I ignored. I would speak to him when I remembered who I was.

I just didn’t know how long that would take.

“Good,” I finally answered Roman. “I think,” I added, uncertainty twisting my insides. I swung open the door, my eyes drawn down as I waited for Roman’s appraisal. “What do you think?” I asked when he hadn’t said anything.

“You look beautiful in anything, T,” he said, and I drew my gaze up to his. He looked giant standing in the small hallway of the dressing room, his Raptors T-shirt stretched tight over his muscled chest. His jeans hugging his massive thighs. And his eyes? God, those dark depths were churning with something as they trailed the length of my body.

That familiar sizzling rushed beneath my skin as if I could feel that gaze like a brand.

I cleared my throat, trying like hell to shake it off. This was Roman. My absolute best friend. The man had seen me in every stage of life for God’s sake. I couldn’t possibly be…

Nope. Not going there.

I’d always appreciated Roman’s appearance—ever since we were pre-teens and we’d snuck out after dark to go swimming in the public pool a couple of blocks away from our joined houses. I could find him attractive without going all…sizzly, right?

Besides, my emotions were all over the place, and the last thing I needed to do was give in to my body’s demanding needs and do something I’d regret later. Like ruin a life-long friendship simply because it had been over a year since I’d had a proper orgasm that wasn’t delivered by my own hand.

Red flushed my cheeks, and Roman arched a brow at me. “Do you like it?”

“What?” I blurted, which made Roman laugh.

He motioned to me. “The outfit. Do you like it?”

I tugged at the red shirt. “Oh, yeah, I mean…It’s not like I’m buying clothes for an office job or anything—”

“Teagan,” Roman cut me off, stepping closer to me. “The only thing that matters is how you feel. It doesn’t matter what I think, your mom thinks, my Abuela thinks,” he teased. “How do you feel?”

I laughed, grateful for his ability to pry the action from me. “I like it.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “I’ve missed you in jeans.” He winked as I stepped back into the dressing room and shut the door.

I hurried out of the clothes, trying on the next few outfits I’d gathered and approving each one. It wasn’t until I’d changed back into my own clothes and I’d piled the garments over my arms that reality crashed over me.

“Oh, goddamnit,” I groaned as we walked toward the register.

“What?” Roman asked.

I lifted the pile of clothes in my hands. “I can’t get these.” I shook my head. “What was I thinking?”

I was thinking I had my own bank account with money I’d earned from selling my canvas pieces over the past year.

I was thinking that one of the credit cards with my name on it actually belonged to me.

I thought I’d had some possessions of my own.

“What’s going on up there?” Roman asked, gently smoothing a finger over my forehead.

“I don’t have any money,” I whispered. “For a second, I’d forgotten…” I swallowed hard. Forgotten that I’d let Rick control every aspect of my life under the guise of being taken care of. Of being cherished and loved.

Idiot.

“I’ll cover you,” Roman said with a shrug.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve already done enough for me. I can’t keep taking advantage of you.”

“You’re not,” he said. “T, we’ve never kept tabs before.”

“This isn’t like grabbing lunch, Roman. This is a new wardrobe, and I still need shoes and…” Emotion clawed up my throat, sharp and hot.

“Hey,” Roman said, his hands on my shoulders, his touch gentle as he guided me to meet his gaze. “It’s not like I don’t have money to spare.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. “That isn’t the point.”

“You’ve covered for me dozens of times.”

“Name one,” I challenged.

His dark eyes trailed upward as if he were sifting through our long history. After a moment, they snapped back to mine. “Got it,” he said triumphantly. “Second grade. Popcorn and cookie day. I forgot my money at home.”