Heartthrob

by Robin Bielman

  His bed is a million miles away from the doorway—that’s how huge the space is. There are four upholstered chairs in various positions around the room, a square table, an armoire, giant flat-screen TV, and a large window. Tears of joy press against the backs of my eyelids at the sight of him. He’s within touching distance for the first time in two weeks.

  I walk closer, relieved to find him alone so I can cheer him up the way I practiced on the drive over. His eyes are closed, long lashes resting almost to the tops of his cheekbones. A blanket covers him up to his waist. His smooth, muscles-for-miles torso is bare save for a sling on his left arm.

  He’s beautiful.

  “Finn?” I whisper. If he’s deep asleep I’ll take a chair and wait for him to wake up.

  His eyes fly open. “Chloe?”

  “Hi.” I’m at the side of the bed now.

  “I told Drew I didn’t want any visitors.” The hard tone of his voice stings inside and out.

  Those tears of joy? They turn to grief. I’m an idiot. I take a step back. Finn has every right to turn me away.

  Something must show on my face because before I can flee, Finn grabs my wrist, his mouth twisting in discomfort before he says, “Wait.”

  I’m not sure if his unease stems from the way he spoke to me or the pain in his shoulder, but I stop nonetheless.

  “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I’m in a crappy mood and didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?” It’s time to girl-up and face our music. It’s time he knows he’s the love song in my head I play on repeat. He’s my last boyfriend, the one I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep. Any other woman who thinks she might have even a chance with him, is going down by any means necessary. I’m not above a cat fight to keep the best thing that’s ever happened to me. “Because I wouldn’t blame you if you were pissed at me. I do still owe you a phone call. Or three.”

  He tugs me closer before dropping my arm. His gaze dips to the container in my hands. “That’s true, but I see you brought me food.”

  Not the response I was expecting, but I’ll gladly play this Finn’s way. At least he’s not kicking me out.

  “My dad’s lasagna. We thought you might like something good to eat, but I’m guessing on this floor they serve lobster if you want it.”

  “I love lasagna.”

  “Are you hungry now? It’s still a little warm.”

  “Hand it over.” His lighter tone is euphony to my ears. He winces as he shifts, though, accepting the food in his free hand.

  “I’ll go grab you a fork.”

  “There’s silverware inside the tray there.” He nods to the other side of the bed and a wood tray on wheels. Sure enough, there’s a drawer with enough utensils for a party. “Have you eaten?” he adds.

  “Not yet. I uh…” I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “I rushed over here once I heard what had happened.”

  Tenderness, and dare I think forgiveness, flares in his baby blues. “Grab two forks then.”

  I get situated on the bed, my hip meeting his, and to make it easier for him, I hold the lasagna so he can fork bites with minimal stress to his injury.

  We eat in almost-easy silence, stealing glances at each other, until the entire thing is gone. “I’ll bring you more tomorrow,” I say. “If you want.”

  There it is. The opening lines to our future, Finn. Please take them and continue our story toward a happily ever after.

  He swallows thickly. “I want.”

  Yes! “Me, too.”

  “But I want my career back on track, too.”

  I nod and wait for him to add something about putting me second or not having enough time for both.

  “I’ll be honest, I’d given up on us.”

  I nod again because I’m not quite ready to speak without my voice cracking.

  “You’ve been pretty unavailable the past two weeks and I didn’t like that. I didn’t know what to think.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I was wrong to shut you out, but when I left for New Jersey I wasn’t sure of your feelings for me, and then when I saw the picture of you with Hannah Mills, I thought the worst. About you and about myself. FYI, I googled her and I know it was nothing.” I pause to catch my breath. “Still, when I got the job in Sacramento, I was relieved I had something else to focus on. I buried myself in work so I wouldn’t have to deal with these intense feelings.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “You’re my favorite person ever,” I blurt out. “When I look at you it’s like nothing else exists but the two of us. I’m sorry I made you think differently. It won’t happen again.”

  One side of his mouth curls up. “What do you know. You’re my favorite, too.” He laces our fingers together. “I want it all, Webster. The career, the girl, and so much more.”

  “Yeah? How much more?”

  “I’m not going to scare you off, am I?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not scared. Because I am. More than I’ve ever been before. I tried really hard not to fall in love with you, and it didn’t work. I’d rather have all two hundred and six of my bones break than have my heart broken again, so you better not even think about it. My dad told me to find a heart big enough for my love and I pick yours and give you mine. No takebacks. I—”

  His hand swiftly moves to the back of my head and he tugs my mouth to his. His lips aren’t like sugar, they’re better. He fastens us together with a kiss that reaches everywhere inside me. It’s passionate. Earnest. Unlike all our other kisses, this one promises more. His tongue slips between my lips, tasting and possessing and stealing all the breath out of my lungs.

  “I love you, too,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against mine.

  We stay like that for several beats, until he pulls back. Lines crease the corners of his eyes, telling me he’s in pain. More kissing will have to sit tight until post-surgery when he’s feeling better.

  “I will never break any part of you. You put the kind of meaning in my life that only comes around once in a lifetime. Those other guys? They were just so you’d know what true love feels like—with me.”

  I nod. And blink. And swallow the emotion lodged deep in the back of my throat, in my bones, in the special place in my heart that’s been waiting for Finn. He’s right. All my experiences led me to here. “So, we’re doing this,” I finally say, quietly but surely.

  “You bet your gorgeous ass we are. No takebacks.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  #GrandSlam

  Three weeks later…

  Finn

  I brush my thumb over Chloe’s full bottom lip, relishing how soft the skin is against my harder fingertip. My other hand grips the smooth slope of her waist with minimal discomfort as she rides my dick. Not that I’d stop if it hurt. Hell no. This is our first time since my surgery and no amount of pain is ending this before we orgasm.

  “Chloe,” I growl, when she slows her movements. “Don’t you dare stop.”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “Only if you stop.”

  “I thought this would be the least painful position.”

  “It is.” Damn this woman and her concern. I shoot my hips up, taking over our rhythm, each thrust a desperate desire to feel her squeezed tight around me.

  “Oh my God,” she moans. “Finn…”

  That’s more like it. Her palms press into my stomach as she impales herself on my cock over and over again. Her ass slaps my thighs. Her breasts bounce. Her cheeks and neck flush.

  I’m so far gone for this incredible woman, I’m seconds away from blowing my load in embarrassingly quick time. Did I mention she’s riding me bare? We had the talk last week, she’s on the pill, and I’ll tell you right now, Chloe is my forever.

  She bucks against me, the hot, slick feel of her without any barrier between us pure heaven. She swirls her hips and Jesus Chris
t, heat flashes through me, drawing my balls up. The base of my spine tingles.

  I groan. She hums. Looks down at me with such admiration while clenching my dick like she can’t get enough, that stars flash in my vision.

  “I’m not going to last much longer,” I say.

  “Me either.”

  We move in sync, the sounds and smell of our lovemaking filling my bedroom. Our bedroom. Chloe doesn’t know it yet, but things are about to change. I hope.

  “Love you,” I mumble. So damn much it’s scary. It gives me insight into Chloe’s fears and I’ve done everything I can to set her mind at ease. There’s only one thing left to…

  “Fuck,” we say at the same time. And then she’s panting and purring, and pulsing around my cock, milking me for everything I’ve got. A shudder rolls through my body and my own release crashes over me. I spill inside her, making every part of her mine.

  “I love you, too,” she says once we’ve calmed down. She bends over to kiss me, nice and slow, our tongues in a mellow duel for dominance before she lifts off me and rolls onto her back beside me.

  “That was…” I trail off because there are no words to describe what just transpired between us. It was love and like and heat and passion and awesome and intimate.

  Chloe turns to her side, props her head in her hand. “Amazificent.”

  I grin. “Tell me Webster, what does that mean?”

  “It means amazing and magnificent.”

  My grin widens. “That works.”

  “How are you feeling?” She lightly traces her finger along my collarbone and the small keepsake scar.

  “I don’t want to talk about my injury today.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Uh-oh. Can I grab something to eat first? I’ll run down to the kitchen and be right back.” She doesn’t give me time to answer. She rolls off the bed, picks up my T-shirt to slip over her head, and makes a quick stop in the bathroom—yelling “I’m sticky!”—before striding out of the room.

  She’s going to be sticky again in a couple of hours. I carefully get out of bed and use the bathroom to clean myself up, too. The guy in the mirror looks damn happy as he pulls on sweatpants.

  Getting back in bed, I arrange the pillows against the headboard and wait. I haven’t exactly planned what to say, but winging it has worked so far. Chloe doesn’t expect practiced speeches or elaborate gifts. Which isn’t to say I don’t plan on spoiling her every chance I get. Today, for example, I’m going big.

  I need to seal the deal before she moves from being my social media manager to the Landsharks social media manager. That’s right. She’s been promoted, leaving the company she works for to work full time for the Landsharks organization. Next stop is the MLB she says. I say her brain is one of her best features and she can do whatever she sets her mind to.

  Our lives will be hella busy come spring, but we’ve talked through every scenario, mostly so she doesn’t worry. I don’t want my girl doubting me for one second.

  She strides back into the room with a plate of food. Sylvie now buys Chloe’s favorites, too. And from the looks of it, Chloe’s piled many of them onto her dish.

  “What? I brought you something, too.” She sits down next to me with her legs crossed in her lap, wiggling until she’s situated just right.

  “The banana?”

  “Yep. Here you go.” She hands me the fruit.

  “Thanks… What are you doing?” I ask, making a face.

  “Dipping string cheese in Nutella.” She looks up at me. “Do not yuck my yum. It’s delish. Here, try some.” She waggles the cheese in front of me, knowing full well there’s no chance I’m tasting that combo.

  God, I love eating in bed with her.

  “What’s that noise?”

  Shit. Calvin’s early. Or more likely I’m late, too caught up in Chloe to notice the time. I inwardly smile. Before Webster, I was selfish with my time. Happy to be alone and abide by no one’s schedule but my own. Not anymore. She’s brought balance to my world, on most days at least. She accepts there are times when I’m wrapped up in my end goal: being the best pro baseball player I can be.

  “It sounds like a helicopter,” she says, turning her head to glance out the window.

  “It is.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Is there a helicopter landing on your baseball diamond?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please tell me you are not having deliveries made like this.”

  I laugh. More in love than ever with this down-to-earth, smart, kind human being. “No delivery.” I put my banana aside. Her plate, too. And gather her hands in mine. “Chloe, you know how we’ve talked about a certain amount of risk involved in falling in love and that there are no guarantees?”

  “Yes,” she says cautiously.

  “And how you’re still not 100 percent certain I’m not going to bump into my soul mate at the gas station?”

  That earns me a speck of a smile. “Yes.”

  “I have a solution.”

  “Oh-kay.”

  “The helicopter is waiting for us. It’s going to fly us to Vegas.” I release her hands, slide off the bed, and get down on one knee.

  Her hand flies to her mouth.

  “Chloe Webster Conrad, you are the love of my life. You turned my world upside down from the moment we met. Your laugh is my favorite sound. Your smile is my favorite sight. The wild berry shampoo stuff you use on your hair is my favorite smell.”

  She giggles.

  “You’re the one person I can’t live without. And I want to be the one person you can’t live without. Will you elope with me?”

  “You want to marry me right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

  Her big, beautiful eyes grow glassy. “What about your family? Are you sure they—”

  “They love you. But even if they didn’t. I do, and that’s all that matters. I love you more than I thought possible. More than any other human and more than my favorite sport. Your strength is my strength. Your dreams are my dreams. I want to keep growing closer and discovering new things to love about each other. Which for the record will be much easier for me than for you.” She giggles and wipes at the tear sliding down the side of her cheek. “You’ve trusted me with your heart, Chloe, and I promise to cherish it and keep it safe for the rest of my life. So, what do you say? We Vegas bound?”

  “YES!” She tackles me, knocking me over and kissing my entire face. Her reaction takes the sting out of my shoulder. We roll on the floor for a minute, exchanging ‘I love you’ over and over again.

  Once we’re upright, we get properly dressed, throw some clothes into a bag, and grab our toothbrushes. “I’ll need to buy a dress when we get there,” Chloe says.

  “Done.”

  “Can we do the full cheesy package?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  She runs her hands down her jeans, lost in thought for a moment. “I’d like to call my dad and tell him.”

  I take her in my arms. “He’s going to be there waiting for us. When I snuck by the house to ask him for your hand in marriage, I also told him about my plan and invited him to be our witness. I thought you’d like him there.”

  She cups my face in her hands and gazes at me with such unconditional faith and love that I know without a doubt our marriage will be both fantastic and incredible. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “That’s not really fair to your parents, though.”

  “All I care about in this moment is you.” I cover her hands and bring them to my chest, where my heart is still beating more pronounced than usual. “Besides, I’m pretty sure once they find out the good news, my mom will want to throw us a reception. Will you be okay with that? I’m cool to skip it.”

  She rises onto her tiptoes and kisses me. “I know yo
u are. But if your family wants to celebrate with us, then I’ll go along with whatever your mom wants.” A flash of sadness pulls her head down, making me think she misses her own mom especially hard right now.

  “Hey.” I take her chin between my thumb and index finger, bringing her eyes back to me. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Always,” she says softly.

  “My mom is beyond excited to have you for a daughter. I hinted at some big news coming her way soon, and her face lit up with happiness. Having three sons, she’s eager to even the playing field, so to speak.”

  “Daughter-in-law,” she corrects.

  “Daughter,” I respond firmly. “She’ll never replace your mom, but she will treat you like one of her own and love you just as fiercely as she loves my brothers and me.”

  “Stop making me cry!” She wraps her arms around my waist and tucks her head under my neck.

  I keep us rooted to our spot, rub her back. I’ve thrown a lot at her in the past twenty minutes.

  “I love you,” she says. “And I’m going to cherish you and cheer for you and—” she looks up at me with narrowed eyes “—you want kids, right?”

  “I do. I always thought I’d have them after I retired from baseball, but if you want to start now, I won’t say no.”

  “That’s good because I’d like a big family.”

  “How big we talking?”

  “Four?”

  I brush a stray hair off her forehead. “Done.”

  “Wow, are all our discussions going to be this easy?” she teases.

  “Doubtful, but that’s a good thing because then we can have make-up sex.”

  She shakes her head. “You think sex will settle our fights?”

  “Have you seen what I’m packing? I know it will.”

  “Oh my God.” She swats me in the arm with a grin before her expression turns serious. “You’re the love of my life, too, you know. You’ve given my heart a home. And I will cherish your dreams and your strengths, and make you green smoothies without scrunching up my nose, and give you babies I hope are miniature versions of you. Because, Finn, you are everything I thought I’d never have.”