Roman (Raleigh Raptors 2)

“It’s not fair to start this with you—to tell you that I’m wildly, recklessly in love with you. Not when I know we can’t work in the long term.” The words sliced through my soul like a rusty knife, dicing my one moment of happiness.

“Why wouldn’t we work?” She shook her head. “Roman. I love you. This isn’t some fling for me. You’re…you’re it.” She tensed.

Damn it, was this already over before we’d even gotten a chance to explore it?

My stomach twisted. “I can’t give you that dream you’ve always wanted. I can’t give you kids. You know that, and I’m not willing to be something you sacrifice for.”

Her face slackened for a heartbeat before a gorgeous smile replaced the tension. “Is that it? Kids are your concern?”

I nodded.

She squeezed her thighs and drew me closer with her heels at the small of my back. “Do you want kids?”

Had it been anyone else asking, I would have lost my shit. “Yeah,” I said as gently as I could without snapping. “I would love a house full of kids, but you know damned well—”

She silenced me with a kiss. “Then give me kids. We’ll adopt. We’ll foster. We’ll find another way. I don’t have to carry a child to raise one, Roman.”

I blinked. “Really?”

She grinned. “Really. When we’re ready, we’ll figure it out.” Her hands were gentle as she cupped my face. “The roadblock you’ve got in your head doesn’t exist. Not between us. We can have it all.”

I laughed, then kissed her deep, because we already did.

12

Teagan

I sat on the edge of my seat—the same cushioned chair I always sat in at home games. The boys took turns buying out a private suite each home game, and luckily for me, I’d always gotten an invite. Only now, it was different.

Because I wasn’t hanging on every move Rick made. I wasn’t silently praying for him to make some big plays so he’d be in a better mood post-game.

Never again.

Now, I cheered for Roman, which I always had done naturally anyway, but this time…it was different. This time, I knew what he felt like between my thighs, knew the taste of his kiss could empty my head of all sound and logic. Knew that there was nothing better than waking up to him in the morning, and seeing him right before I went to bed at night.

“Damn,” Savannah said from my right. “Detroit has upped their defensive strategy this year.” There was an edge to her tone as she looked down at the field with concern.

“It’s not over,” Liberty chided as if we would’ve ever dared say that.

“We know that,” I said, resisting the urge to bite my nails. We were in the fourth quarter, and we were down seventeen to twenty-one. “Roman’s had one-hundred and forty-four rushing yards this game. How did we get behind?” I groaned.

The Raptors only had two-hundred and twenty-eight total rushing yards this game, which meant Roman was busting that sexy little ass up and down the field. He deserved a win—the entire team did with the way we’d fought Detroit tooth and nail the whole damn game.

“Here we go,” Savannah said as the offense took formation.

I reached for both their hands, each of us holding our breath as Nixon took the snap and handed the ball off to Roman. We launched from our seated positions as Roman ran, those massive thighs propelling him down the field at breakneck speed.

“Go!” I screamed as he juked left, breaking a tackle and barreling past two defensive linemen.

“Holy shit, run, Padilla! Run!” Savannah hollered next to me.

Roman bounced off a defender and sailed past a cornerback nipping at his heels.

“Omigod!” Liberty squealed as he flew into the end zone.

“Sixty-one yards!” I screamed as we bounced up and down, the entire suite roaring with shouts and cheers and cries of victory.

Nixon and Hendrix caught up with him in the end zone, the three doing their signature celebration—a hilariously quick dance with lots of hip-swinging and hustling feet. My eyes were only for Roman as he swished those hips left and right, his natural rhythm made even more evident by the tights clinging to his muscles.

The girls and I hugged, my head buzzing from the rush of the win. Of the comeback. Of the way Roman had played his ass off.

Pride rippled through. I’d always been proud of him, of my best friend whenever he had a game making play, but there was something about claiming him as mine that made that pride deepen.

“Padilla was on fire today!” Savannah said as the suite settled into an excited chatter.

“I wonder why that is?” Liberty asked, waggling her eyebrows at me.

I waved her off, unable to stop the laugh from my lips. “He’s always on fire,” I said.

“Oh, no doubt,” Savannah agreed, reclaiming her seat. It would be at least an hour before we’d meet the boys outside the locker room. Well, Liberty and I would meet the boys, and Savannah would have a post-game sesh with her dad. Her ambitions for sports management were well-nourished with unlimited access to one of the top NFL coaches in the league. “But,” she continued. “He’s been playing with a new spark, lately.” She smirked at me. “As if someone struck a match beneath his feet.”