Chapter 17 #2
“I—” A gasp leaves her lips, her hips jerking, and a tiny, almost inaudible moan leaves her lips. I hear it, of course, completely in tune with her. “I was busy.”
“Are you going to stop being busy in a way where, if you see me when you enter a room, you turn around and leave?” I ask, nipping at her ear. She hesitates, and I don’t love that. “Lana.”
“I have things to do, Roman,” she says, and in her defense, she sounds disappointed and apologetic.
“I get that, but I want to be one of those things,” I say. She lets out a low chuckle, her hips shifting once more.
“I’m sure you do. But I’m not interested in being one of your things,” she says with an eyeroll. My brow furrows, and one hand moves, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at me.
“Let me make this terribly clear right now, Lana. There has not been a woman in my life in a good, long while. And if we’re talking beyond something temporary, a hell of a lot longer.
I’m into you in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been into a woman.
I want to spend time with you, and I don’t mean at practice or in hidden corners, stealing kisses.
I want to spend time with you. I want to drink a beer and watch the sunset with you.
I want to take you out. I want to get to know you. ”
“Do I get to know you?” she asks, lifting a challenging eyebrow.
“Lana, I think I’d tell you anything you wanted to hear if you just asked it of me.
” I don’t tell her that’s a privilege I haven’t given many.
Somehow, I think she knows that already.
A look crosses her face—something I don’t quite understand—conflicted and nervous—but I try to ease it all the same.
“We can keep things quiet. I know you’re trying to build your reputation and gain respect.
I’d never try to get in the way of that. ”
“I know, Rome,” she whispers, one hand moving to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing along my bottom lip. “I know.” It’s so sweet, so sincere, so fucking adorable; I can’t help but kiss her again, hard and deep, before pulling back.
“Okay. So, what do you say?” She tips her head adorably, eyes a bit dazed from a simple kiss.
“What do I say?”
“Spend time with me, Lana. Explore this. Even you have to admit there’s something here.
” I stand there, pinning her to the wall in this dimly lit supply closet, wishing I could do this better, more romantic, because a woman like Lana deserves all the flowery language and the candles and special moments.
Fortunately, before I can dwell on that regret much longer, she nods.
“Okay,” she says, and the thrill of a win races through me, the same kind that I feel when I cross a finish line or check the scores to find I outrank everyone.
That’s what getting Lana’s approval feels like—a win.
“Now. Can I kiss my girl?” I ask, and her eyes flare, her lips parting.
She might be unsure of trying something between us, but she sure as fuck likes being my girl.
“Yeah,” she whispers. I groan, pulling her into me and doing just that, kissing her hard and deep.
Her hips rock once more, and each time, her thigh grinds against my hard dick.
The most beautiful torture I’ve ever endured.
My hands move to her ass, gripping the generous handfuls, and using it to guide her, to help her move, to show her what I want.
And I want her to come.
I want it in a way that makes me wonder if I’d rather see the pleasure cross her face or have my next breath of air.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I groan when the kiss breaks, her breathing too heavy to manage more.
Her head drops back against the wall as I move her faster and harder, grinding into her.
I desperately want to turn her around, pull those cocktease shorts down, and slide into her wet pussy.
It’s what I would have done in the past, sating my need and taking what we both clearly want, but there’s something about Lana that makes me want to take things slow, to do things right.
And while dry humping her in a storage closet isn’t right, so to speak, it’s better than fucking her for the first time with people roaming the halls potentially right outside this door.
“You’re gonna make me come,” she groans low, her hot breath coasting over my neck and pulling my balls tighter. I haven’t fooled around like this since I was a teenager, and something about that is so fucking hot. And something about doing it with Lana feels so fucking right.
Being with her reminds me of who I used to be, who I would like to be. A better version of myself who didn’t care what everyone else thought, who just wanted to race, goof around, and enjoy my life.
“Then fucking do it. But bite my shoulder if you need to, baby. Only I get to hear those pretty sounds you make.”
“Oh my god,” she groans, her hips becoming more frantic as she moves, her breathing erratic as her head falls forward into my neck. “Roman.”
“You’re so fucking hot, grinding on my leg, moaning my name. I’ve been trying to figure out what it would sound like since the first day I saw you. This ass,” I groan, fingers digging into her ass as I grind her against my hardness. “Is so fucking tempting.”
“I want you,” she breathes. “We should just—”
“This is good enough for now,” I say, cutting her off because if she offers, my caveman brain will definitely give in.
I’ve never had a more enticing, erotic experience in my life than this one with Lana, with the heat of her enveloping me.
My cock throbs painfully as I feel the dampness of her through her shorts on my bare thigh, my own shorts having ridden up with the friction.
Her hips start moving in small circles with each grind, and I slide one hand up, under her shirt, and groan loudly when I find she’s not in a normal bra, but a thin one that lets me feel her hard nipple under my hand. “Yes!” she moans, the second cup her. “Please.”
“Does my girl like having her tits played with?” Her head falls back to the door, her eyes drifting shut, her lip tugging between her teeth as pure pleasure glides over her face.
“Yes,” she breathes. “I’m so close.”
Her hips buck, and I find her nipple between my fingers and thumb, pulling and rolling.
That’s when her head falls forward one last time, when her teeth sink into my neck, and a low groan vibrates through her as her body quakes in my arms.
A moment later, I press her harder into the wall as warmth fills my pants, the pleasure overtaking me like some teenager with his first girlfriend.
I can’t believe I just fucking did that.
I hold her there as we both catch our breath. After what could be moments, minutes, or hours, I press one last kiss to her neck before pulling back to look at her face. She’s a bit dazed, her eyes a bit glassy, and her lips slightly tipped, seemingly entertained.
“Did you just…” She looks around as if confused. “Did you just come?”
A flush of embarrassment burns across my cheeks, but there’s no denying it. She can probably feel the evidence of it against her stomach.
“Yeah. You’re pretty fucking hot, heartbreaker.” I tuck some of her hair behind her neck. “Are you going to tell everyone so they can give me shit for it?” She shakes her head vehemently.
“Hell no. That’s possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t need Courtney or Melanie getting any new ideas about you.” I lift an eyebrow.
“Really? That was hot?” I ask, brushing away her jealousy for another time.
“Oh, hell yeah. You got so turned on from us kissing that you came? Hot, Rome.”
“It was more the way you were rubbing on my leg and moaning my name,” I clarify, if only for my own ego.
“Same difference. I made playboy Roman DeLuca come in his pants. I deserve a badge of honor for that.” Even though I should be embarrassed, I let out a loud bark of laughter at that, then reluctantly set her down.
My shorts are sticky against my body, and while it’s uncomfortable, I don’t care.
I really don’t want to leave this bubble we’ve created.
My fingers move, tipping her chin up, brushing my thumb over the apple of her cheek, asking the question I need to know.
“Are you going to avoid me anymore?” Her lips tip, and she shakes her head.
“No, I’m not going to avoid you anymore, Rome.” Her phone lets out a chirp for a new text, and she sighs. “But I really have to go. I promised Demi a girls’ night,” she whispers, voice filled with genuine regret.
“Okay. So long as you promise I can take you out soon.” There’s a moment of hesitation, but I press my lips together. “Something easy. Low-key. No PDA.”
“Deal.” With her word, I step back, helping her settle her shirt back down and trying to make her hair look less like she just dry humped a man in the storage closet. I do the best I can, but there’s nothing to do about the swollen lips and satisfied look on her face.
And I don’t think I would if I could.