#Heart (Hashtag #6)

by Cambria Hebert

  He hadn’t shaved in a couple days, so the scruffy stubble that covered his lower jaw was thick and soft. It was blond, too. I had a sudden longing to feel its prickly softness between my thighs.

  Even though I stood in front of him, he was so broad I could see both his shoulders behind me. They were well defined, wide, and smooth.

  He’d actually leaned up just slightly since starting with the NFL. All the training and constant travel had trimmed him down, but it only served to cut out the sharp contours of his body. I could count his abs individually.

  And the way his hips narrowed down into a V below his waistband…

  Yeah. Like I said, Romeo was my vice.

  I never thought a girl like me would have one. But there was no denying the command he had over my heart.

  “You’re staring,” he rasped, continuing his slow, methodic strokes.

  I clutched the towel tighter against me. I had no idea why. There was nothing that could keep him out. Not when he was already permanently part of me.

  He finished brushing and set aside the brush. He caught my stare and held it while picking up the shirt lying on the counter in front of me.

  It was his shirt, one of the Knight ones. I’d brought it in here to wear as I dried my hair and got ready for class.

  He didn’t say anything, just kept his gaze on mine as he pulled it over my head and gestured for me to put my arms through.

  Once the shirt was on, he tugged the end of the towel and I let go. It fell to the floor, and he kicked it away.

  I still stared at him. I couldn’t help it.

  His large hands came to rest on the edge of the counter on either side of me. “I look different now?” he asked, holding my stare.

  “Now?” I tilted my head.

  “Now that you heard me tell B I approve of what he did.”

  I sucked in a breath. So he did know that’s what was eating me.

  His full lips tilted up. “Oh yes, I know, baby.”

  “Romeo…” I began and turned to face him.

  He made a sound and his hands caught my hips to stop me. “Stay there. Look.” He gestured with his chin to the mirror. “You know what I see?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I see a #jock who fell in love with a #nerd. But I’m not really a #jock, and you definitely aren’t really a #nerd. Yeah, I play football and am sexy as hell.”

  I snorted.

  He grasped my chin and pulled my face back down so I could look at us once more.

  “You like books and get perfect grades. But those are a quarter of the things that make up who we are. Your messy hair and sweatpants? My excessive use of the word fuck and bossy nature? That stuff makes up another quarter.”

  He gathered my hair in his fist and pushed it to one side. Bending, keeping his eyes pinned on mine, he scraped his teeth across the side of my neck. I shivered.

  “You know what’s one hundred percent me?”

  “Hmm?” I hummed soft.

  “My love for you.” He pressed a kiss to the exact spot his teeth had just been. My eyes drifted closed. He pulled back. “Look at me, Rimmel.”

  I forced my eyes open, trying not to succumb to his words and lips. But it wasn’t those things that were the biggest threat. It was his eyes and the ability they had to make me feel like I was the only thing they ever saw.

  “I love you with one hundred percent of who I am. That’s a lot of pieces of me. So yeah, I can understand why Braeden did what he did. That guy who walked away from Zach that night, that’s just a quarter of who B is. The one hundred percent of him that loves Ivy took over. The one hundred percent of his loyalty to this family won out.”

  He paused.

  “And honestly?”

  I nodded.

  “One quarter of me admires that piece of Braeden, because I don’t know if I would have been able to do what he did. Not because I hated Zach any less, but because I know exactly what it would do to you.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head.

  My word, he had a lot to say today.

  “I’m sorry the things I said downstairs hurt you, baby. I know you know what it’s like to have someone taken from you. I’m sorry I made you doubt who I am deep down, because I won’t condemn Braeden for a split-second choice a part of him made. But there is one thing I’m not sorry for.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sorry he’s dead.” His eyes flashed, like a lightning storm at the beach. “After what he did to you and to Ivy, there’s no way in hell I could ever mourn for someone as twisted as Zach.”

  “I know who you are.” I silenced his apology with those five words.

  “I might not know every single piece that makes up all of you. That’s one of the reasons I’m so excited to marry you. I want to know every single quarter. I want to spend the rest of my life learning every single thing. Even the things that might sometimes shock me. And it doesn’t matter what little pieces I have yet to discover. I know the most important ones. And the more I think about it, the more I realize one of the most important is what I learned this morning.”

  “Rim.” His voice was gruff, regretful.

  “You had your turn, Roman. Now it’s mine.”

  He let out a nervous laugh.

  “Look at me.” I reminded him. If he made me look, he made me see he meant every word. Then I was going to do the same to him.

  “I always knew how important family was to you. It was obvious to me the day I saw you and Braeden together, even when I saw you with your parents. But I guess I never quite understood just how strong that bond was. Your loyalty amazes me. It inspires me. You’re so fearless.” He started to scoff, but I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Look.”

  Azure eyes snapped back to mine.

  “You’re so fearless in the way you support us. You don’t care if one of your own made a mistake or even made a choice they might not make again. In that regard, your life is black and white. Family or not family. Loyalty doesn’t have conditions with you. It’s why you’re an alpha, because you aren’t just strong for yourself, but for everyone you love.”

  His front was pressed almost against my back, and I stretched my arm up, reached behind me, and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him fully against me.

  He was hard. Rock solid. His length pressed into my back and was most distracting.

  “I could never doubt who you are, Romeo. Never.”

  “Smalls,” he murmured and nuzzled my neck.

  Our eye contact broken, I let my lips slip closed. Goodness, the way he felt behind me.

  “You still wanna marry me?” he whispered in my ear.

  “I should ask you that question,” I breathed as chills raced along my arms.

  His hips rocked into me, bringing my ass right up against his groin. “My answer would be hells yes.”

  “Romeo,” I said with just enough command our eyes met in the mirror again. “I’m sorry. I know my reaction downstairs wasn’t good. It’s just my mother—”

  “Shh, baby. I know.”

  I shook my head, trying to find the words, but it was so hard. How do you describe something in words when it was already so hard to feel?

  And how the hell did a girl string together any sentence when there was a man slowly grinding his swollen and needy cock against your backside?

  “Stop that,” I said, reaching around to grab his hips. “I’m trying to apologize. I can’t think.”

  I felt the laugh rumble his chest, and I leaned back more, wanting to feel it all.

  “You don’t need to apologize. I understand.”

  “I think I hurt Braeden’s feelings.”

  “B’s fine.” He stopped rocking against me, but now his fingers were sliding up the backs of my thighs, dipping beneath the T-shirt and coming dangerously close to my bare bottom.

  “T-there’s something I want you t-to know,” I stuttered, trying to concentrate.

  His palm was cupp
ing my ass cheek. His fingers were delving between my legs, seeking out my core.

  “What’s that?” he asked, shifting, spreading his legs so he could sink a little lower, bring his fingers closer to my entrance.

  Two fingers slipped into my folds. I was wet, aching.

  Against my bare cheek, his cock jerked. Without thought, I pushed myself farther against him.

  “Rim.”

  “Hmm?” I replied, arching my back to give him better access.

  “You wanted to tell me something?”

  My head dropped down as his finger slid inside me. His free hand came around and lifted my chin so he could stare at me in the mirror.

  “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?” I mumbled and rocked into his fingers.

  His eyes deepened and he growled. “Watch,” he instructed and released my chin, lifting the shirt so it was right beneath my breasts.

  I kept my eyes trained on his as he swiftly yanked down his shorts. His swollen, silky head pressed against me, and I moaned. Gently, he slid his finger out and palmed either side of my hips, adjusting me so my ass was on full display.

  Poised at my entrance, he stopped, linked both our hands, and then put them on the counter.

  “Don’t look away,” he ground out.

  I watched his face when he joined our bodies. From this angle, he went deep and I arched my back even more to take him deeper.

  We clung to each other’s hands as we watched each other. He moved inside me, spearing me over and over again. My walls clutched around his length, and the feel of his hips fitting against my ass was near perfection.

  The unfocused way he stared at me was addictive. Even though my vision was slightly blurry, it didn’t matter. His desire and love was clear.

  “Fuck, baby,” he ground out as he pushed deep. “I can’t hold it.”

  I wiggled my ass closer, just like I’d done to him this morning when I sat in his lap. I felt his cock start to spasm, and his jaw clenched. His eyes turned to glittering diamonds, and he shoved one hand between my legs and found my swollen and sensitive clit.

  I ground against his groin, and he ground against my ass.

  In seconds, his hot seed was filling me up, and the sensation pushed me over the edge. I cried out, and he watched right there in the mirror.

  I might have been embarrassed if I’d been able to think.

  The orgasm ripped through me and went on and on. At one point, I started to sink onto the counter, but he wrapped an arm around me and held me up, without once breaking eye contact.

  When the bliss finally drained, I felt weak and my knees were shaking. He pulled out and eased back, only to sweep me up in his arms and carry me out of the bathroom and lay me across the bed.

  He took up residence beside me, and I tucked myself close, breathing in the scent that only he wore.

  “I love you,” I told him.

  “I love you, too,” he echoed.

  A few minutes later, when I could actually use my brain, I realized we’d never actually finished our conversation.

  “I’m glad he’s dead, too,” I whispered, horrified at my own feelings.

  “That doesn’t make you a bad person, sweetheart. It makes you human.”

  That was it. The words, the feelings I was trying to explain but couldn’t. Romeo did it in one word.

  Human.

  For years and years, I lived on autopilot, going from day to day without any change. I was cold, sterile. I was protecting myself.

  But that protection turned me into a robot.

  Then Romeo walked into the library.

  He restarted my heart. He made me human again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Romeo

  There was always one place B and I could come back to that made life seem somehow simpler than it was.

  The field.

  B and I became friends on a playground, but we bonded, we became brothers on a football field. Hell, back when we barely knew how to tie our shoes, it was as simple as a patch of grass. We didn’t need white painted lines, stadium-quality green, or even premium leather balls.

  All we needed was each other and space to run around.

  We had all the bells and whistles now, basically the best kind of playing fields money could buy, but just like when we were seven, all we needed was each other.

  Coach O’Connor let us into the stadium at Alpha U. It was the first time I’d been back in months. Hell, it felt like forever.

  But the more things change, the more they stay the same.

  The lights shone crisply on the immaculate turf. The white lines were impeccable, even though it was the off-season. The air lingered with a mixture of gasoline and freshly cut grass. Even the scent of stale sweat still clung to the stadium, haunting the open space of games past.

  The only sound other than B and my footfalls on the ground was the low hum of the high-powered lights that gave this indoor arena lighting brighter than the sun at noon. But even though there was no game being played, no team rushing out through the tunnel to conquer the field, the sounds of football still reverberated through the place.

  The echoes of helmets hitting together, the familiar sound of pads being slapped into place, and the faint whisper of whistles blowing erratically gave this place life, even after the games ended.

  The Wolves might just scrimmage and practice on this field, but it didn’t matter. The love of the game didn’t come from the game itself; it came from the passion and drive inside the players. It came from the people who sat in the stands and cheered like there was no tomorrow. It came from the brotherhood that formed between teammates.

  Technically, neither B nor I belonged to this team anymore, but it would likely always feel like home.

  “Seems like just yesterday you two wet-behind-the-ears showoffs showed up on my field,” Coach said, stopping behind us as we took it all in. “Anderson, I always knew you’d make it. You were born to play this game.”

  People said that to me all the time. But they weren’t a coach that spent countless hours training me and conditioning me, even on the days I hated him for it. So when he said it, it meant something.

  “Walker, you on the other hand…” Coach went on, and Braeden swung around to face him. “You always did have the talent. I just thought you were too big of a fuck-up to get your head on straight enough to make it.”

  “You trying to give me a compliment or send me to therapy?” B cracked.

  “There ain’t a therapist in this entire state with enough degrees or time to fix you, Walker,” Coach muttered, but he was smiling, pride evident in his eyes. “I’m really proud of you, son. The draft is lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks, Coach,” Braeden said and averted his gaze.

  Aww, B-man was getting all sentimental and shit.

  “Thanks for letting us use the field, Coach,” I told him, giving B a minute to untwist his panties. “Wanted to get in some extra field time before the draft.”

  “This stadium will always be open to you boys as long as I’m around. Besides, it’s the Wolves’s job to make sure Walker gets in all the fine tuning he can before the NFL starts sending people to watch him practice and play.

  “Make sure you’re getting two workouts a day,” he ordered Braeden before turning away. “If you don’t manage one of the top draft picks this season, I’m gonna kick your fool ass.”

  “No pressure or anything!” Braeden yelled after him.

  Coach held up his arm as he walked away, giving us the finger.

  “Dude, he just flipped us the bird.” Braeden guffawed. “What would the dean say!” He gasped after Coach.

  “Screw you!” he hollered and then disappeared in the tunnel.

  B and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  I glanced out across the field again, taking in a great big breath of the football-smelling air.

  Braeden dumped his duffle on the ground and stripped off his shirt. “We gonna do this shit or what?”


  My shirt landed on the ground beside his, and like the pair of boys we once were, we took off, racing out into the center of the field, the grass dense underfoot. We lost ourselves in the game for hours.

  We stayed so long that when we looked at the clock, Braeden swore because he’d missed his morning classes.

  “YOLO!” he announced and tossed me the football for another round of passes.

  “You sound like you belong in some fruity granola bar commercial,” I told him. “YOLO,” I muttered darkly. “Stupidest shit I ever heard.”

  The ball hit me in the center of my back. I spun around and looked at it now lying at my feet.

  “All right, Walker.” I smirked. “You wanna be a smartass. Give me ten laps,” I said in a dead-on impression of Coach O’Connor.

  B started for the track that circled the field. When I didn’t follow, he glanced back. “You too good to run?”

  “Hells no. But I’m supposed to take it easy, remember? I’m the pro. It’s my offseason.”

  “Shit, Rome. I hope to hell Gamble makes sure I get on your team. Your candy ass is getting soft and comfy in that cushy spot of yours. You’re gonna need me to watch your entitled ass this season.”

  “I’m not entitled,” I snapped, the jab hitting me in a spot I hadn’t realized was soft.

  B stopped completely and swung around. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

  My jaw clenched. “You’re supposed to be running.”

  “What’s going on, Rome?” He pressed, walking backward toward the track. “And don’t try and say nothing, because that chilled interior of yours don’t usually boil so fast.”

  I grunted. “Come on. I’ll jog with you.”

  We fell into step beside each other, our pace automatically synced, because as I said before, football was our bonding point. We could play or train with each other blind and deaf, and we’d still be a solid unit.

  We kept the stride sedate. I really meant it when I said I was supposed to be in recovery mode, and we’d already worked out hard for a long time. This would have to serve as our cool down. I was going to have to figure out how to be with him during his daily training and not end up doing all the shit he was doing.