Page 21 of Room Twenty-Eight: Her Beautiful Surrender

Covering my face with my hands, I concentrate on breathing and not the fact that someone else might have seen the pictures instead.

When my phone rings, it startles me into yelping and nearly throwing it across the room. Sitting up, I stare at the screen as Major’s name flashes with the FaceTime request. Blowing out a deep breath, I swipe to answer.

Plastering a smile on my face, my heart contracts in my chest when I see their faces. Each of their eyes is so different, but all reflect the intensity of their desire for me. “Hi,” I squeak out before biting my bottom lip until it stings.

“Kitten,” Major groans, his eyes moving down, and it’s then I remember I’m nude.

“Uhm…” The urge to cover up screams at me, but the way they’re staring begs me to stay exactly the way I am.

“Gotta tell you, babe, I’ve been dreaming of those perky tits of yours dripping with milk all fucking day,” Diesel grunts, one hand rubbing across his chest.

“Milk?” I question.

“Nice round belly,” Diesel continues, and my alcohol-addled brain begins to catch up.

“A baby?” I whisper. “You’re crazy,” I laugh, half expecting them to join in. “I’m on the pill.”

“Yeah, I know.” Diesel’s grin is pure mischief as he holds something up in his hand. “But when’s the last time you took one?”

My jaw drops. I hadn’t even realized.

“You didn’t,” I hiss at him. I had them in New Orleans, but the night began before I could take my pill for that day. I didn’t take it the next. Or the following, or today. “Oh. My. God.” I can’t believe I hadn’t even thought about that. “You stole them from me?” I accuse, my eyes narrowing.

“Yup.” He gives a prideful grin. “And we’ve been all up in that ripe virgin pussy a few times each since then.” The three of them wear matching looks.

Satisfaction.

“You can’t possibly want to knock me up? We don’t even know each other!” And then what I was drinking tonight hits me as I stare down at my stomach, dropping the phone in my lap as tears well.

“I was drinking tonight,” I confess. I know I shouldn’t have been, but sometimes I don’t get carded at the liquor store. I only got a small bottle of wine, only had two glasses. “What if I ruined it already?” I gasp, my throat feeling tight with emotion.

“Sweet girl,” Colton calls, and I look down at him. His eyes are soft as he says, “The likelihood of that is minimal. Take a breath and focus on us.” I try to do what he suggests as I lie down in bed, propping the phone up against a pillow and pulling the sheet over my body.

“Shame to cover all that gorgeousness up,” Diesel grumbles, making me giggle.

Major shakes his head while shooting Diesel with a glare. “You watched the game?” He changes the subject.

“Missed the beginning, but afterwards, I caught it all. I’m not sure my neighbors appreciated my cheering.” In fact, I know they didn’t since Mr. Gibbs from down the hall came banging on the door around nine, telling me to be quiet. I wasn’t loud, but I intentionally got louder.

“We’ve got two weeks of road games before we’re back home again,” Major reminds me, and I try not to pout. “We hit Philly before coming to New York for two games, so we’ll be there for a few days.”

“Oh yeah?” My heart races.

“What he’s not saying is, we want to see you while we’re there. We want you at both games and wearing one of our numbers,” Diesel clarifies.

A blush creeps up my face. After their post-game interview, I’m sure it won’t take anyone long to figure out I’m the girl they were talking about.Am I ready for that?

EIGHT

Asta

“That was freaky as shit,” Cecily mutters next to me as we exit the Hellmira tour. Elmira Prison was originally a soldiers’ barracks in the 1800s during the Civil War before being converted to a prison and, soon after, dubbed as Hellmira by the inmates. Nearly three thousand prisoners died there from starvation, malnutrition, and poor living conditions in the year it was opened before they were set free.

“It’s eerie, right? The hollows in the walls, you could almost hear the cries of the dying.” The biggest reason I love going to places that are haunted or tortured is because I feel like I gain a connection with the dead. I’m not empathic or psychic, I just feel that in the presence of so much turmoil, I can imagine what the dead or dying must have gone through. It’s what helps give my blog posts life. The ability to connect with someone long passed.

Cec snorts, “Eerie is an understatement. I feel like I need to be cleansed. I can’t believe what went on there.”

It’s true. The treatment of Confederate soldiers was atrocious—crimes against humanity. The pictures I was able to take, along with the information I learned and the video with the whistling wind sounding like the cries of the dying, will make for a great post. I can already imagine the attention it will garner from my followers.

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