Chapter 132
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-OLIVIA-
I walked off and went upstairs because the backyard had become too crowded.
The word propose still ringing in my ears. The kitchen had not been far enough. I needed a door. I needed a room that did not have her on the lawn.
The second I opened my door and stepped inside, someone pushed in behind me.
The door shut.
My back hit the wall.
Roman.
My eyes went wide.
He looked defeated.
Not the controlled version from the parking lot. Not the great-friend mask he loved to wear. This was a man who had followed me up the stairs knowing it was stupid and done it anyway.
Chest rising too fast. Jaw locked. One hand still on the door like he needed it to stay standing. He had me pinned without fully touching me yet, the heat of him everywhere.
“Please don’t call him.”
My heart skipped a beat.
He had followed me. He had shut us in my room. And here he was asking me not to call Luca with his mouth close enough that I could feel the words.
“W-what?”
My brain would not catch up. He was too close.
That look in his eyes like he had already lost whatever fight he had been having with himself on the stairs.
“What would it take for you not to call him?”
The question shocked me more than the push.
“W-what?”
That was all I could get out. I had no other word. The wall was cool against my shoulders. He was not.
“What do I have to do?” His voice was low, wrecked. Rough breathing between the sentences. “I’ll do whatever you say. Whatever you want. I’ll do it. If that means you don’t call Luca and cause another scandal. If it means
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The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
you don’t piss off your brother and father even more.”
I could not believe he was asking me this.
I was not going to waste it. I already knew what I wanted.
“Kiss me.”
Roman swallowed hard.
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I watched it. The bob of his throat. The way his eyes dropped to my mouth and stayed there like looking anywhere else would let him leave. He had not expected that. I saw it. He had offered anything, and now he could not take it back without being a liar twice in one week.
He battled himself right in front of me.
Then the line broke.
He moved his face closer and then…he kissed me.
I felt the shock the second his lips touched mine.
Slow at first. Agonizing. Like if he went faster he would take too much. I made a sound I did not recognize. Cloud nine was a stupid phrase until I was on it, knees unreliable, sure I might faint.
His lips were softer than I had imagined, and I had imagined them a lot.
I was right.
Kissing Roman was nothing like kissing Luca.
Nothing like anyone else. This was different.
Exhilarating. Forbidden in a way that made my stomach drop. Every nerve in my body turned toward his mouth. I felt the first press of him like a door opening after years of leaning on it.
His breath hitched against my lips.
Then the kiss deepened.
His hand came to my jaw, thumb at the corner of my mouth, angling me the way he wanted. Then my waist, pulling me off the wall and into him so there was no air left. I opened for him and he took it, tongue sliding against mine, a groan in his chest that I felt more than heard. Heat tore through me. I fisted his shirt. He pressed closer, thigh between mine, the kiss turning hungry and messy and so hot I forgot there was a BBQ under my window.
He kissed like he had been starving and hated himself for it.
I kissed him back like I had been waiting since I knew what waiting was.
His breathing went rough. Mine did too. Every inhale was him. Every exhale shook. When I nipped his lower
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lip he made a sound that wrecked me.
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What was this feeling? It was ruining me for other men. I would never experience this with anyone else.
When he sucked my tongue I forgot my own name. His hips pinned me to the wall and I felt how much he wanted this-hard against me, no hiding it, no polite distance. The defeated look was gone. What replaced it was worse. Need. Heat. A man taking what he had offered and then some.
His hands roamed.
My back. My hips. Under the hem of my top, palms hot on bare skin. When they covered my breasts, I gasped into his mouth. He squeezed once, like he could not help it, thumbs dragging over fabric and then under it, and the sound I made would have wrecked me if I had been capable of shame.
He broke the kiss only long enough to drag his mouth down my jaw, my throat, a rough breath against my pulse.
“Fuck,” he whispered into my skin. Not for me.
For himself.
I pulled his mouth back to mine because I could not stand the distance.
I needed more.
He gave it to me. Deeper. Wetter. His hand slid to the back of my thigh and lifted, just enough that I was on my toes and open to him. If he had pushed my panties aside I would have let him. If he had taken me against my own bedroom wall with my family on the lawn I would have let him.
That was how gone I was.
Then he broke away. Without warning.
He pulled back like he had been burned, breathing hard, eyes wide, forehead almost against mine, and then
not.
His hands left my body too fast, as if keeping them there would finish what the kiss had started.
His mouth was red. His chest rose and fell like he had just finished practice. He looked at me like I was both the prize and the mistake.
“Remember our deal.” His voice was hoarse. Ruined. “You cannot call Luca now.”
Luca? I’d totally forgotten about him.
He opened the door and stepped out.
He did not look back. He shut the door softly, which somehow hurt more than a slam.
I fell back against the wall.
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The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
…
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Shock first. Then felt my mouth. My lips throbbed. My breasts ached where he had held them. I could still feel his thigh between mine. I could still hear that groan in his chest.
I could not believe what had just happened.
Roman Vale had kissed me in my bedroom like the world was ending and walked out on the condition that I not call another man.
I touched my lips again.
They were still his.
Downstairs, someone laughed. Blair would take one look at my face and know.
I did not care.
I sat on the edge of the bed because my legs would not hold the rest of the afternoon, and I stared at the door he had closed, already knowing I would not call Luca.
The deal was the smallest part of it.
He had followed me.
He had asked what it would take.
I had told him.
And for one impossible minute, Roman Vale had crossed the distance between us.
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Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.