Rebel Heart

by LK Farlow

  I try and hold back my laugh but fail epically. He’s so damn cute, and he’s all fucking mine. Mine, mine, mine. Some days it doesn’t feel real. “Two things, hot shot: One, I’m not fucking you where other people shit. That is nasty. Two, even if I wasn’t worried about the nastiness, you killed the mood when you forgot the word.”

  “You’re such a hardass, Abby Jane.” He drops into the seat next to me, pouting like a little boy. “Just wanted to spice shit up.”

  “Oh my God. Stop. Spice things up? You make us sound like an old married couple!”

  “Would that be so bad?” he asks. “Being married to me?”

  “Wouldn’t be bad at all.” I pivot in my seat and kick my feet up into his lap. “In fact, I’m setting a deadline. You have a year to propose, Jockstrap. Plan accordingly.” Brock makes no effort to reply, but he does begin massaging my feet, so I don’t mind.

  Before I know it, two and a half hours have passed, and we’re getting ready to make our descent. “Mr. Larson, if you and your guest could power down your electronics, stow your personal belongings, move to an upright position and buckle, that would be amazing.”

  “Can do,” Brock tells her, making quick work of following her instructions. Our landing is a little rough, and I grip my man’s hand with all of my strength until we’re safely taxiing down the runway of the small, private airport.

  “You ready for an unforgettable trip, Abby Jane?”

  “I’m ready for anything with you by my side.”

  BROCK

  After a few hours of sightseeing and doing touristy shit, Abby Jane and I are back at our hotel—the Bellagio—to rest for a few. I have plans for us tonight, and I know my girl gets cranky when she’s tired.

  “Come lay with me?” Abby Janes asks, stripping out of her clothes and crawling up onto the palatial king-sized bed, knocking the lime green silk pillows off as she goes. The swell of her ass tempts me, and when she flips to her back and spreads her legs, I break.

  I’m in the bed and on her faster than I can yell fore! I lick, kiss, and bite my way up her smooth, sexy legs until my mouth makes it to the promised land, where I feast on her like a man eating his last meal. By the time I’m finished, my girl’s nothing more than a pile of tired limbs.

  Her eyelids are drooping and a sated smile paints her lips. Fuck. I love seeing her like this—blissed out all because of me. It rattles some primal instinct within me. The same instinct that’s insisting I stay in this bed, buried deep inside her.

  But…I can’t. Because like I said, we’ve got plans tonight, and I need to get my ass in gear to lay the groundwork. “I gotta run out really quick, okay? You stay here and take it easy.” She manages a small nod, already halfway asleep; I press a soft kiss to her forehead and whisper “I love you” in her ear before getting dressed and walking out the door.

  Immediately, I take the elevator down to the lobby and work my way through the massive building to Lago where I make us a reservation for eight o’clock. After that, I make several phone calls, including one to my mother. Luckily, she fully supports my plan. I only have one more errand to run, and it’s by far the most important.

  I Uber to a well-reputed tattoo shop on the Strip, and after explaining the situation and what I want, they graciously work me in.

  I’ve been gone for over an hour, and I half-expect Abby Jane to be up and waiting on me. But when I step into our gorgeous salon suite, she’s still out cold. A quick glance at my watch tells me we have a few hours before we need to be anywhere, so I quickly set an alarm, strip back out of my clothes, and crawl in behind my girl.

  An hour later the beeping and buzzing of my phone alarm jolts me awake. “Abs,” I murmur against the soft skin of her neck, before giving it a gentle nibble. She moans in her sleep and the sound travels directly to my dick. “Wake up. We gotta get ready.”

  “Five more minutes,” she begs.

  “No can do. Gotta get up. I’ll go run you a bath.”

  In the bathroom, I fiddle with the taps until the water is the exact temperature before adding some bath oils. Abby Jane ambles into the room right as I shut off the water. “Good timing.” I help her into the tub, marveling at how fucking lucky I am to call her mine.

  While Abby Jane lounges in the oversized tub, I shower, shave, and slip into my outfit for the night. Navy slim fit trousers, a crisp white button-down with the top two buttons undone, a matching suit jacket, and a pair of casual brown oxfords. Not gonna lie, I look sharp as fuck.

  And judging from my girl’s sharp intake of breath when I step back into the bathroom, she agrees.

  “Like what you see, firecracker?”

  She licks her lips and nods, rising up from the tub, all her slick skin on display. “Very much.”

  “Play your cards right, and I’ll let you strip me out of this suit when we get back to the room tonight.”

  “That’s a promise I’ll hold you to, Jockstrap.”

  “I’m counting on it. Now, get your cute ass ready. We can’t be late.”

  “Where are we going?” she asks, wrapping herself in a plush, white towel.

  I give her an innocent shrug. “Can’t say.”

  “Then how do I know what to wear?”

  “Dress sexy.”

  She rolls her pretty brown eyes at me. “You’re impossible.”

  “But you love me!” I wink and head out to the bedroom, plopping down onto the brilliant turquoise sectional.

  Thirty minutes later, Abby Jane steps out of the bathroom, wrapped in the hotel robe, with her pastel locks done up in an intricate braid with a few loose tendrils around her face. Her makeup is understated, with a subtle burgundy smoky eye and pale pink lips. She’s fucking glowing, and the thought immediately makes me picture her glowing for a different reason—a nine months, congrats-on-your-new-bundle-of-joy kind of reason.

  “Since you don’t wanna tell me our plans, I don’t want you to see my outfit.” She flicks her hand at me in a shooing motion. “You can go wait in the hall.”

  “Fair enough, firecracker. Gimme a holler when you’re ready.” As I walk past her, I make sure my fingers graze her and fuck if I don’t love it when she shivers.

  Out in the hallway, I mess around on my phone, texting West. After about ten minutes, the room to our door pops open. I step inside, ready to escort my girl downstairs, but instead, my heart stops and my lungs seize. I swear to God, she gets more beautiful to me every day.

  But right now, in the moment, she’s a fucking vision in white—how ironically appropriate. Her dress is a short little sheath that wraps around her creamy thighs, with cold-shoulders and two sets of straps that crisscross over her chest. She looks so fucking incredible that my eyes don’t know where to settle, so they roam her body repeatedly.

  She smirks and throws my earlier words back at me. “Like what you see, Jockstrap?”

  I advance her, like a predator circling his dinner. “More than you fucking know.”

  She waltzes past me, smacking my ass as she passes. “C’mon, you said we had plans. Don’t wanna be late.” Fucking gorgeous tease.

  AJ

  Being in the dark about our plans is killing me. I know he has something up his sleeve. I can feel it. I even texted Stacia to snoop for clues, but if she’s in the loop, she gave nothing away. Big shocker there. She may be my best friend, but she’s hardcore Team Brock.

  Brock quickly joins me and guides me to the elevator bank with his hand pressed firmly on the small of my back. His fingers twitch against the thin material of my dress. “You okay?”

  “Yup. Totally. Wonderful,” comes his reply. Right. Because that’s not weird. I chalk it up to him being tired since he didn’t nap as long as I did.

  I let out a little squeal of delight when I realize Brock is taking me to the Conservatory. I know, I know. It doesn’t seem like flowers would be my thing…but your ordinary botanical garden, this is not.

  “How did you know I would like this?”

  “B
ecause I know you, firecracker.”

  “No. Seriously.”

  Brock heaves out a fake sigh, pretending to be exasperated with me. “Fine. A little bird named Stacia told me.”

  “I knew it! Gotta say, you totally fucking nailed it.”

  We enter through the sky-high Torii Gates, and, I kid you not, it’s like stepping into a fairy realm. Brock is as enchanted as I am by the out of this world floral and botanical displays—from the blooming cherry blossoms and lotus flowers to the peaceful waterfalls and the massive, twenty-six feet tall, floral woman rising up from the water.

  There are so many over the top features that I don’t know where to look next. By the time we finish our tour, I’m absolutely blown away—almost to the point of tears—by the intricate beauty.

  “That was perfect,” I say, sidling up next to Brock so that my head rests on his shoulder. “Wanna grab dinner now or later?”

  “Now,” he says with a slight tremor to his voice. He leads me through the lobby and into Lago—a highly praised Italian restaurant.

  Brock seems distracted as we wait for our food to arrive. He’s tapping his foot, twiddling his thumbs while staring at his lap, and I’m pretty sure there’s a fine sheen of sweat dotting his hairline, even though it’s pretty damn chilly in here.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He glances up at me and offers a small smile. “Totally.”

  “Well, you’re acting a little nutso, so you’ll have to excuse me for not buying what you’re selling, Jockstrap.”

  “Sorry. I guess I’m just tired.”

  He doesn’t sound tired, but I decide to take him at his word. “Well, we don’t have to go out tonight. We have all week.”

  He’s about to reply when our server comes out with our meals. In lieu of entrees, we decide to split several small plates—including short rib, filet, bruschetta, and mushroom risotto—and each one is more delicious than the last.

  We’ve just placed our dessert order when Brock clears his throat, pulling my attention away from the glorious fountain show.

  “So,” he taps his fingers on the tabletop. “What you said earlier got me thinking.”

  “What I said about what?” I ask, confused because let’s be real…I talk…a lot.

  “About getting married.”

  “What about it?” I laugh at how adorably awkward he’s being. “Use your big boy words.”

  “It’s just…I love you. And hell, I’ve already announced to practically everyone we know that I’ve been crushin’ on you since like kindergarten. And God, Abs, those years when you weren’t in my life…there wasn’t a single day that went by where I didn’t think of you. When I didn’t regret ruining our friendship because I was a horny little preteen asswipe.”

  His tone is serious, and his words hit me right in the feels. “That’s all in the past. We made it. And we’re gonna keep on making it. You don’t have to keep appologiz—”

  He cuts me off. “I’m not apologizing. It’s just…you’re it for me. When I saw you in the library that day and learned you were my tutor, it was like the fucking clouds parted for the first time in a long time.”

  “Look at you, being all sentimental. You’re def getting some tonight.”

  He shoots me a sexy smirk but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge what I said. “I know we’re young, Abby Jane, but I don’t want to wait a year to propose. I know this seems spur of the moment, but I’ve actually had this ring for a couple of weeks now. And after everything that’s happened between us, I’ve learned waiting for the perfect moment can bite you in the ass.”

  “Wh-what are you saying?” I blink at him like a deer in headlights. Surely, he’s not…

  He pushes his chair back from the table and drops to one knee. Reading my panicked expression, he rushes on. “Hear me out. I already know you’re my future—my forever…” He fishes around in his pocket, retrieving a black velvet box, flipping it open to reveal the most breathtaking emerald-cut smoky quartz ring. The stone is nestled in a diamond halo and set in a rose gold band.

  “…I love you, firecracker. Marry me? Please?”

  “Yes!” I launch myself into his arms. “Yes!”

  “Yes?” he asks, almost disbelievingly.

  “God! YES, you dumbass! How could you possibly think I’d say no?”

  “I learned a long time ago not to assume with you.”

  “Riiiight. You know I’m a sure thing. Hell. I pretty much demanded you ask me earlier today. You just sped up the timeline. I love you, Jockstrap, and there’s no one else out there for me.”

  “Damn straight. There’s definitely no one else who could put up with your ass.”

  “Asshole,” I say on a laugh, right as our dessert is placed on the table before us. But we’re too into each other—into this moment—to bother eating it. I stare at the ring on my finger, admiring how it glows in the low lights.

  “Abs!” Brock practically shouts my name.

  I jerk my head up at the tone of his voice. “Gah! What?”

  “You know I said your name like three times, right?”

  I bite my lip and shake my head. “No, sorry. I was too busy ogling my ring.”

  “I’m glad you like it. But, I…I have another question.”

  I wink at him. “If you’re about to ask me to have your baby, the answer is no.”

  “Jesus, you’re impossible. No…I wanted…well, the thing is, I want to marry you now. Hell, you’re already wearing white.”

  “Hold up. I’m not saying my vows in front of an Elvis impersonator.”

  “No worries. I have it covered.”

  I wait for our server to drop off our check before speaking. But as soon as she’s gone… “Excuse me! What exactly do you mean you’ve got it covered? This is our wedding. Our one and only wedding and I know I’m not like most girls, but I’ve still imagined that my big day would be like. Not to mention, our families, what about them?”

  Brock raises a brow at me. “Okay, sure, the only family involved is your mother. But I bet she would like to be here. And West and Stacia—what about them?”

  “Calm down. I want you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  “Of course, I trust you, Brock. But…now?”

  “I can’t wait another second to call you my wife. For you to have my last name. And let’s be real, a big to-do wedding is so not your thing.”

  I place my palms on the table and stare him down. “You think you know me so well…”

  “I know I do. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say you’d rather elope than drop buckets of money that could be put toward something else—like our future together.”

  I let out a small growl, because dammit, he’s right. But even still, I always pictured Stacia by my side.

  After paying our tab, Brock suggests checking out the fountains from the terrace. I easily agree because they’re beautiful. Plus, maybe we can snap a just engaged picture to send Stacia.

  Except, when we get out there, Brock turns to me and asks me to give him a few minutes.

  “What? Right now? Seriously?”

  He boops me on the nose, and I smack his hand away. “I said to trust me.” He grins and spins on his heels, walking over to a gentleman who appears to have been expecting our arrival.

  The two of them talk for a minute before gesturing for me to join them. Even though I’m confused as fuck, my feet move me toward him.

  “Ready to say ‘I do,’ firecracker?” Brock asks, his tone a mixture of sheepish and excited.

  “Here?” I ask. I’m equal parts elated and melancholy. Because while this is a stunning venue, it doesn’t feel right without my bestie.

  “Yeah, baby, here.” He nods and I see Stacia, West, and his mom step around a group of people.

  My best friend squeals and tackle-hugs me—thankfully Brock was right behind me and kept us upright. “OMG! You’re getting married!”

  My eyes gloss over with tears. “I am! Wait, how are you here?” I dumbly a
sk.

  She tips her head to my fiancé. I spin to face him. “Y-you planned this? While I slept?” He nods. “Then let’s fucking get married!”

  “Way to set the bar high, cousin,” West growls, patting him on the back as we take our places.

  “You heard the lady,” Brock says to the officiant.

  “Brock and Abigail, please join hands.” We do. “Brock, please repeat after me—”

  Brock cuts him off. “Actually, I’ve prepared my own vows, if that’s okay?” Our officiant nods. “Abby Jane, you’re the best thing in my life. You’re my wild, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You’re my light when it’s dark. My saving grace. Everything is better with you by my side, and I can’t fucking imagine spending my life with anyone but you. I promise to love you through it all—good and bad—always.”

  Big, happy tears roll down my cheeks, probably ruining my makeup, but I don’t have it in me to care. “Do you have your own vows prepared?” the officiant asks me.

  I snort out a wobbly laugh. “Nope. I’m gonna wing it. Brock Larson, you’re one of the most infuriating, most impossible men I’ve ever met. You challenge me every day to be my best self, and you keep me grounded. You’re my rock, and I can’t wait to grow old with you. And so help me God, you better still love me when my tattoos are so wrinkly you can’t tell what they are anymore.”

  This time it’s Brock who’s laughing.

  “Brock, do you take Abigail to be your wife?”

  “Hell yes,” my groom murmurs.

  “Abigail, do you take Brock to be your husband?”

  “Fuck. Yes.”

  Our officiant smirks and continues. “Please present the rings.”

  “Wait!” I exclaim. “I don’t have a ring for you, Brock!”

  “No worries, firecracker. I took care of it.” He peels back the little Band-Aid that slipped my notice, revealing a little firecracker tattooed on his ring finger.

  My eyes widen and my heart races. “You did that for me?” I whisper.

  “Don’t you know I’ll do anything for you?” He reaches out and wipes my tears away.

  Once my ring is blessed, we move on to the good part. “You may now kiss your bride.”