56. Lavinia
FIFTY-SIX
LAVINIA
“Will you tell me what your tattoos mean?” I ask.
Roman is lying on his back on our bed with my head resting on his bare chest. I'm making mindless circles on his unmarked skin.
It's been two days of nothing, but this.
The blinds have been closed, the door has been shut, phones have been turned off.
Only the cats are allowed in and out of the room.
Roman's fingers are in my hair, massaging my scalp gently.
“Which ones?” Roman asks.
“All of them. Any of them.” I just want to hear his voice.
“You're going to think it's crazy, but most of them are for you.”
Surprised, I lift my head off his chest to look at him. He’s looking at me almost nervously. He has nothing to be nervous about.
I mean, he brought presents for me and kept them locked away until the day I could open them. If there’s one thing I know about my husband, it’s that I’m never far from his mind.
“You got tattoos for me?”
Roman raises his hand, brushing the back of his fingers along my jaw. “You’re a part of me, and I wanted to make sure that it was visible.”
I rest my chin on his chest, staring up at him. Sometimes, my mind refuses to believe that he’s real and here. It isn’t enough that he loves me, he has to love me more than anyone else in the world. And he says I’m competitive.
I run a finger over his brows, tracing it down to his nose and cheekbones. “Let me get this straight. On your travels you bought presents for me because I was never far from your mind. You have permanently marked your body for me. And it took you our entire lives till now to tell me you love me?”
Roman laughs, the sound vibrating through me.
“I had to make sure we were both ready. For a long time, I believed that I didn’t deserve you.
I believed that you would be better off with someone whose family wasn’t a mess and hadn’t filled his head with thoughts that he was better off alone.
When I gave myself to you, I wanted to make sure that it was a whole, and not a damaged half. ”
Tears prickle at my eyes and choke my throat.
How can anyone look at him and think that everything he’s accomplished in his life belongs to them?
I’m not talking about his career and everything that he’s accomplished in the NHL.
I’m talking about his heart. His kindness. His parents can’t claim any of that.
“I love you so much,” I say, my voice warbling with tears. “As someone who’s known you our whole lives, I can tell you that you were never damaged. You should only trust my opinion.”
Roman brushes my hair back and tucks it behind my ear. “Being around you healed me. If you leave me now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive.” He swallows thickly, his eyes clouded with emotions.
As if I'm ever going to leave him. “You are Roman Maddox Callahan, you can’t be Bruno Mars asking for some morphine. It doesn’t suit you.”
Roman chuckles, shifting down to give me a kiss. He describes his tattoos for me.
“The cherry blossom tree is because they are your favorite and you always smell like cherry blossoms. This red ribbon because you always used to wear them in your hair. This cluster of dots on my right shoulder is the same as the freckles you have on your right shoulder, it looks like a constellation.”
I brush my fingers over the tattooed freckles on his shoulder. Now that I know what they represent, I can see that they do match the freckles I have on my shoulder.
“I can't believe you did that,” I whisper.
“I'm pretty sure it's a sign of insanity,” he says. “You’re very calm knowing that a man has been obsessing about you so much that he’s literally tattooed his body for you.”
“I deserve nice things,” I say. “I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’ve been a very good person my whole life.”
“I’m your reward for being good?” Roman grins. He definitely is.
“What about the constellation on your thigh?” I ask.
“That was the night we first met.”
I blink up at him. “We met when we were babies.”
“You can't make me believe that this wasn't meant to happen. You and I were always going to end up here, Lavinia. I wanted to remember the day it all started. At the time, it felt like stealing little pieces of you for myself if I couldn’t have all of you. I carry you with me everywhere I go.”
And apparently, it all started when we were babies.
The conviction in his voice floors me. I don't know why because Roman’s been nothing but open about the way he feels.
Turning, I search the drawers until I find a marker that I put there the other day.
Raising up onto my elbows, I write ‘mine’, right over Roman’s heart.
“In case there’s ever any confusion,” I say.
Roman laughs, looking down at what I wrote. “Baby, there’s never going to be any confusion. I’ve been yours since day one. I’ve been waiting for you to claim me.”
“Well, I did. Your book’s title is officially, Claimed by the Retired Hockey Player Content Creator.” Something occurs to me. “Where did you get my jersey?”
“I got it when you started playing for the New York Valkyries. My intention was to have you sign it and frame it, like the obsessive stalker that I am,” Roman says.
I laugh lightly, nodding because he is an obsessive stalker. “Why didn’t you have me sign it?”
“We hadn’t spoken in years; I didn’t know how to approach you.”
So many years we lost, not that I hold it against either of us. Roman once messaged me that when I was ready, I’d realize who’s the one for me. Maybe it needed to happen now so we couldn’t fuck it all up.
“So, you took it to the game last night?”
He inhales and holds his breath for a moment.
“I keep it in my gym bag as a good luck charm. I didn’t intend to wear it last night until my father cornered me and pretty much confirmed that he’s the reason I was traded to the Titans.
He started telling me I had to do what he wanted because I was wearing his name on my back, and I was representing him on the ice. ”
Roman flips me over so I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me, his hips settling into the cradle of my thighs. He kisses me sweetly. “I would much rather be known as Lavinia Callahan’s husband than Asher Maddox’s son.”
He dips down, placing small kisses on my neck, pushing my t-shirt up to kiss my chest and stomach as he shifts down my body.
“Excuse me, sir. What do you think you’re doing?” I demand.
“It’s been two whole days since I’ve tasted you and I’m rectifying the problem.” He pushes my leggings down my hips.
“You’re supposed to be resting. No strenuous activities,” I remind him, even as my heart speeds up and my body grows warm. He flicks his tongue over my clit, and I push his head away.
“No, stop. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” I say. I wriggle my pants back up my hips.
Roman heaves a sigh and falls back on to the bed beside me.
“Fine. How about I lie here, and you do all the work?” He turns his head to look at me, sliding his pinkie finger under my waistband.
“It might even help me feel better.” Leaning closer, he brushes his lips against mine.
“You know you want to. Your pussy is soaked for it.”
My resolve falters slightly even as I push him away. “The doctor said you should have complete rest for up to 48hours.”
“I haven’t done anything other than rest the last two days,” Roman says. “Haven’t I been such a good boy?” He blinks at me innocently.
“You’re not being very good right now,” I remind him. In response, he sucks on the soft skin under my ear, and I bite off a moan. This time, when he pushes at my leggings, I don’t stop him. I push them down all the way and straddle him, bending forward to kiss him.
Every time we kiss, my body hums with satisfaction, like there’s electricity running through it. Roman kisses me like he’s never going to get the chance to kiss me again. Like he’s pouring all the years of unreciprocated feelings into that one kiss.
“You have to promise me you’re okay,” I whisper. “I don’t mind doing all the work as long as I know I’m not hurting you.”
Roman grips the nape of my neck, massaging gently. “I’ll always be okay as long as you’re with me.”
Pushing his joggers down, I release his hard cock, aligning it at my entrance. Without taking my eyes off his, I lower myself slowly, relishing in the stretch of him filling me, until he’s fully inside me. He’s deeper inside me this way and I can’t help shifting forward as I adjust to him.
Roman groans, hands gripping my hips tightly. His eyes drop down to where we’re connected.
“I’m never going to get over the feel of being inside you,” he says. “You’re so soft and warm, you take me so perfectly.”
Slowly, I start to shift my hips back and forth, setting a rhythm before I truly start to ride him.
I brace my hands on his chest as I lift my hips until he’s all the way out before I ease back down.
Again and again, so slowly that neither of us is getting off, not that either of us is in a rush.
I want to revel in this connection with him for as long as possible.
“I used to dream about this,” Roman whispers. “For two fucking years. It was easier when I wasn’t near you, so I could tell myself it was never going to happen. When I saw you two years ago, I knew I’d been lying to myself. No one else even compared, so I didn’t even try.”
I used to be scared about how desperately he wants me. I thought I’ve loved before, and it doesn’t even compare to the aching need that gnaws inside my chest when I think of Roman.
I want to be with him all the time, touch him, talk to him, hear him laugh, and see his smile. Maybe with time, this desperation will ease, and I won’t want to be so needy for him. Maybe, it will get worse instead of better.
We come together quietly, the sounds of our moans and breathing filling the room. In the aftermath, I fall forward, resting my head on his chest as his come leaks out of my body.