Page 69 of Hart Breaker

“I … Yeah, I just … I am … I was at the bar. You weren’t there, so I came over here and?—”

“How long have you been in here?”

I can’t even answer that question.

“ You saw!” She mutters something else, and I turn to look at her and see her hands over her face. “Why?”

Takes me a second to answer her since I’m staring at Riley May Brooks wearing a Knights jersey with gold #13 on the front of it. My number.

“Hudson, I asked you a fucking question.”

“You look fucking beautiful right now.”

“Shut up,” she says as she chucks the little pink dick at me.

I can’t help but laugh when I catch the damn thing.

“This is fucking humiliating.” She groans as she walks over and faceplants onto her bed. “Just go. I can’t even look at you right now.”

I do not move in the direction I assume she’s expecting me to and plop my ass on the other side of her bed. Then I push her hair away from her face. “There’s no reason you should feel humiliated. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.” I hit the little switch on the end of the vibe. “As a matter of fact, I’d love to help you finish what you started.”

She shoves up off the mattress, snatches it out of my hand, and then chucks it across the room toward her bathroom. That done, she reburies her face in a pillow.

“It’s probably a bad time to tell you that I pissed in your toilet, washed my hands, smelled your fancy soap, and then used your toothbrush when I was trying to talk myself out of stealing your wedding dress.” I lean back and link my fingers behind my head. “You and I clearly have two different definitions of humiliation. Me leaving here after returning that dress, getting busted, it’s pretty damn humiliating, or it would have been if anyone else saw me doing it but you.”

“Stop. Just stop trying to make me feel better. Newsflash: it’s not working!” she yells into her pillow.

“Keeping the lines of communication open. Pretty new to this relationship shit, so how about you tell me what’s going to make you feel better when there’s not a damn thing I saw that was wrong to begin with?”

Her phone rings, and I glance over to her nightstand where it’s sitting and see douchebag’s name.

“Want me to get that?”

She pushes up off the bed, runs both hands through her hair, and grabs the scrunchy off her wrist, putting her long locks into a ponytail. “No, I do not want you talking to him. But you know what? He was here all day today, trying to tell me why we should be together, and your name came up at least a dozen times.”

“He was fucking what?” I clench my fists as I sit up.

“You don’t get to be pissed. You don’t, Hudson. I am never, ever, ever going back to him. But you know what? He was right about a few things. You and I will never work. You are a twenty-three-year-old professional football player; I’m pushing thirty. You don’t want kids; I want more than I’ll probably ever have.”

“That’s the thing, Riley. That’s why I came here. I was watching Boone talk to Lily on their video call and realized how fucking sad that is.” I point to my chest. “I didn’t want kids based on seeing what some of the shit my teammates go through, what they put their wives through.” I shake my head. “That won’t be us. You go to half of our away games already. You go with your girls, your family. You wouldn’t be sitting up in the stands pissed off because you had to be there; you wouldn’t resent me. I wouldn’t have to worry that you’re home, fucking my best friend or your ex-boyfriend.” I force out a laugh. “Regardless of what has transpired, I trust you. I fucking know you, adore you. Gonna love you and never disrespect you the way that motherfucker did. Any motherfucker who thinks they can disrespect you ever again is gonna realize real quick that ain’t fucking happening.”

She fists her hair. “You are not listening to me.”

“I listen to you. Every word you’ve said has been on replay all day as I tried to figure out why you weren’t returning my messages. I decided to man the fuck up and come here to address what may be the issues. And right now, I’m stomping out all the little fires you’re starting, trying to burn us down before we even begin.

“The kid thing? Fucking love kids. I told you I love kids. Had nothing to do with me not wanting kids and everything to do about not trusting someone to tear them the fuck away from me. I know you’d never do that to me, and I know you know I’d never do that to you because you and me, we’re?—”

She bats away fresh tears. “Brett is going to call you. He’s going to. I know he is. So, let me be the first to tell you I’ve been off the pill for over a year and have not gotten pregnant.”

“Gonna sound like a fucking creeper when I admit this, but that son of a bitch hasn’t spent enough time with you to get you pregnant. He goes on golf trips, and you’re here, busting your hot little ass. And straight up, Riley, the few times I’ve seen you walk into the bar after I assume you let that piece of shit put his dick inside of you before he slithered his way back to school, you didn’t look all too fucking worn out. I’m going to guess his dick isn’t long enough to get you pregnant.” I reach over and grab under her arms, pulling her to me, and I love that she shows no signs of wanting me to let go. “Gotta show up to practice, too, so you’re game ready. That motherfucker didn’t put in the time.” Lips against her neck, I ask, “When’s the last time you had your period?”

“You’re out of your mind,” she moans.

“Answer the fucking question, Riley Brooks.” I roll her onto her back and hover over her, rolling my hips against hers so she feels how fucking hard I am for her.

“Last week,” she whimpers.

“You gonna let me live out my fantasy tonight?”

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