#Fate Copyright © 2019 CAMBRIA HEBERT
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All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Published by: Cambria Hebert
http://www.cambriahebert.com
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Interior design by Classic Interior Design
Cover design by Cover Me Darling
Photo Image (front): Rick Day
Photo Image (back): Dexter Brown
Model (front): Ripp Baker
Model (back): Andrew Leighty
Edited by Cassie McCown
Copyright 2019 by Cambria Hebert
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
#FATE
#FATE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
GEARSHARK PRESENTS
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About Cambria
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What’s meant to be will always find a way.
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Perfection isn’t an illusion.
I met it, held it in my hands.
But then it slipped right through.
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Perfection isn’t an illusion.
It’s elusive, cleverly evasive, and in many ways, a horrible tease.
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I’m not a man to be toyed with.
Quiet, thoughtful, and even sometimes careful,
but never someone to taunt.
Even the most controlled men have a breaking point.
I just met mine.
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Why mess with perfection?
You don’t.
Unless perfection messes with you.
“Fate decides who comes into your life
Your heart decides who stays.”
—unknown
1
Drew
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The constant vibrations and incessant dinging of my phone was disturbing my sleep. Why the fuck was it going off like this so early in the morning anyway? Didn’t people have any respect?
Flinging an arm out, I reached for my person.
All I found was the dent in the mattress where he should have been.
Cracking open one eye and feeling mighty grumpy about it, I glared at the empty spot. “T!” I bellowed, my own voice just as bad as the chiming phone.
The noise of an elephant rumbling down the hallway barely registered before the bedroom door smacked against the wall and something big and smelly launched itself onto the bed.
“Oomph!” The sound burst out of me as my whole body jolted under the impact. “Holy hell!” I wheezed. “Bad dog!”
My legs were jackhammered by the dog’s frantic tail as it slapped me over and over. I looked up just in time to see a giant, slobbery tongue coming at me.
“N—” I started to protest, but it was too late.
The sandpapery, dog-breathy, drool-covered tongue smacked against my face and licked all the way across my nose.
“Jesus! Are you trying to find my brain?” I asked but then started to laugh.
The beating from the tail increased tenfold.
Palming the side of the uber hairy monster’s head, I pushed it aside to rescue my face from his dog breath. “This is not the morning kiss I had in mind, Fry,” I grumped but rubbed his ear affectionately.
“I still can’t believe I let you name that dog French Fry,” Trent commented, his large body filling the doorway of our bedroom.
“Let me?” I wondered, fending off more dog tongue. “It’s too early for this!” I complained, pushing him off me.
The dog rolled onto his back, paws up in the air, and gazed at me longingly. This mutt was smelly, clumsy, and filled with drool… but he was still my boy. So of course, I scratched his belly.
Trent stopped beside the bed, shirtless and with a big white mug in his hand, effectively stealing away any attention I was giving Fry.
His college football career was several years gone, but he still had that body. Wide shoulders that I knew sometimes carried the weight of the world. Rounded, defined biceps, which dominantly caged me in when he took me in bed. Cut abdominals my fingers knew intimately and a V-shaped muscle that disappeared into the band of his designer boxer briefs.
He noticed my perusal. Beneath those boxers, his cock jerked because he liked it.
We’d seen each other without clothes a million times. I would argue I knew his body better than my own.
It didn’t matter.
The same excited electricity buzzed throughout my body whenever he was close.
“You left me in this bed alone.” I criticized, still fondling his mostly naked body with my stare.
“Your dog had to piss.”
Smiling, I asked, “That coffee for me, frat boy?”
He smirked. “Maybe.”
I reached for it, but he drew back just enough to be out of reach. A grumble broke out of me as my eyes narrowed. “You know I need my a.m. fuel.”
Eyes glittering, he said, “So do I.”
Sliding my tongue across my teeth, I pushed up onto my knees, the tangled blankets falling away.
I was sporting some major morning wood, despite the attack from our giant dog-child. Nothing else seemed to matter when my guy was standing there looking like a snack.
Because the dog was still on the bed between us and Trent was still standing too far away, I crooked a finger at him.
Pursing his lips together, he pretended to think about the request. Just when I was about to lose all my patience, he chuckled, a sound that made my scalp tingle. His knee hit the mattress, his upper body leaning close.
I had bedhead, morning breath, and my scruff was out of control.
I kissed him anyway, the kind of kiss that wasn’t shy, and even though it rang with familiarity, he sank into me like we were brand new.
A low moan vibrated the back of his throat while his palm rubbed over my unshaven jaw. He still loved the feel of stubble, and by the way his tongue delved deep to attack mine, I would say he also had a fondness for morning breath.
Sliding a hand up his chest to cup my palm around the side of his neck, I settle
d the pad of my thumb against his rapidly beating pulse. I lifted my other hand to delve into his mussed hair, raking my fingers through the blondish strands before palming the back of his head to bring him even closer.
The hint of coffee on his tongue delighted me, and I sucked his upper lip between mine before pulling back to lick over his mouth.
Blinking his eyes open, he smiled, somehow making it seem as if he could see all of me even though his eyes never left mine.
I loved that look. The one that made me feel like I was all he saw, the center of his universe, and the blood keeping his heart pumping.
Once, long ago, when these feelings between us were new and scary, I wondered. I wondered what would happen if the chemistry between us fizzled out, if whatever pulled us together suddenly let go.
The thought scared me so much I banished it from my mind, refusing to ever let it resurface. I wasn’t scared of it now, though, because I knew the answer.
I saw it in Trent’s eyes.
Nothing.
Nothing like that would ever happen because the love between us would never go away.
“Here,” he said gently, offering me the coffee I knew he’d made just the way I liked it.
Fry jumped off the bed to probably chew something he wasn’t supposed to, and we ignored him, thankful to be alone.
Instead of settling against the pillows, the headboard, or holding my own weight, I leaned into his warm, secure side as one of his arms wound around my waist.
I was right about the coffee. It was exactly how I liked it.
Cupping the warm mug against my chest, I sighed, leaning into him a little more. One benefit of being with another guy was he had the size to take my weight. He had the bulk to surround mine.
My eyes slipped closed as his fingers teased my hair and I knew not one care in the world.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
My eyes popped open. “I’ve just about had it with that fucking thing.”
An inaudible chuckle vibrated Trent’s body. “Ah, that explains why you’re awake already.”
I made a rude sound and went in for more coffee.
“I should have taken yours downstairs with mine,” Trent murmured, rubbing his palm over my shoulder.
Tilting my head, I glanced out of the corner of my eye. “Yours going off like that too?”
He made a sound, which I knew was an agreement.
“What’s going—” I started to sit up, but he pulled me back, anchoring both arms around me.
“It’s nothing,”
“It could be Ivy or the kids.” I tried to sit up again.
He tightened his hold.
Remember just seconds ago when I was saying how awesome it was to date someone whose strength and size matched my own (okay, fine, he was a little bigger)?
I changed my mind.
“Trent,” I growled.
“I already checked, Forrester. It’s not the family. They’re okay. I called up and talked to Romeo just to be sure.”
Pacified for the moment, I relented. “Then what is it?”
“Same shit… different day.”
Oh. I knew that tone, that restrained annoyance.
This time when I sat up, he let me. Leaning over his body, I placed the mug on the side table and drew back so I was facing him.
“What did they print this time?”
His upper lip curled a little. Then he sighed. “Those vultures took some photos when we were in town a few days ago.”
My mind sifted through what we’d done that day, and I couldn’t think of anything that could possibly make the news.
Of course, from experience, the press was really good at making shit up. “I didn’t even notice anyone taking pics.”
“Me either,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Can’t even let your guard down to walk down the street.”
“We were holding hands?” I asked, trying to recall if we had been that day. Truth was I had a hard time paying attention to that anymore. It used to be something I was conscious of… but not lately. Trent was mine. I could hold his hand if I wanted to. I was fucking tired of having to think about every time I touched him in public and if it would rile up the media.
We were two men, not a fucking circus attraction.
“Mmm.” He agreed. “And we were walking past a jewelry store.”
Realization struck. “Ah, the marriage thing again.”
“If I had a fucking penny for every time someone asked me when we were getting married, I could buy a small country.”
I leaned in. “Would you name it after me?”
He laughed, pushing my face back. “No.”
“Maybe I should get a ring, put it on one of my fingers. Really get everyone in a tizzy.”
Trent smirked. “Our phones would probably explode.”
“Might shut everyone up,” I said, watching his reaction.
“They’d just find something else to gossip about.”
“T—”
The expression on his face darkened as though a sudden storm churned up within him. “We’re not getting married because the press wants us to, Forrester.”
“You think it would be because the press wants it?”
The muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a breath. When his stare came to rest on mine, it softened considerably. There it was again, that all-encompassing stare that made me feel swallowed whole.
“I don’t need a piece of paper to prove how much I love you. I already have everything I could ever want. Hell, Forrester, I have more than I ever thought I’d have. You don’t mess with perfection when you have it. You don’t rock a sailing boat in the center of the sea.”
“Perfection, huh?” I echoed, my heart slowing to a heavy thud. I didn’t know how, but this guy always had a way of making me feel like I was back in middle school and experiencing my very first crush.
His hand slipped around the back of my neck, tugging me forward until our lips met. Craving more, I climbed into his lap, and the sounds of our deepening kiss filled the bedroom.
Trent kissed roughly this morning, ownership in every slash of his lip. His tongue sliced over mine, making me relent and surrender.
All at once, he wrapped both arms around my back and went forward, pinning me against the mattress with his broad, naked torso.
“I want you,” he growled, pushing up my chin so he could drag his lips across my unshaven jaw.
I parted my lips to answer, but his finger penetrated my mouth as he moved down my body, lips latching onto my nipple.
I forgot about talking. I no longer heard the notifications going off on my phone. All that existed was Trent and the perfection we’d found between us.
2
Trent
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NRR Season Opener
Perfection isn’t an illusion.
I met it, held it in my hands.
There was no warning. In life, there never is. One moment, life was a picture-perfect puzzle with all the pieces finally in place.
Bam!
The bright-yellow race car went airborne, all four tires abandoning the pavement and taking along all sense of reality.
Standing on the top of a giant rig, I gazed over the track with my frozen heart lodged tight in my throat.
I blinked. I blinked again.
The car was sailing, tilting at an angle it didn’t belong. Time stopped. Everything was reduced to astonishingly noiseless moments.
Moments in which I couldn’t think. I couldn’t feel. I could do absolutely nothing but stand there stunned.
No…
Metal being torn apart by asphalt boomed into that wretched silence, so loud and so overwhelming I fell onto one knee. Shattering glass and the echoes of moaning, screeching, and rupturing thundered over any thoughts I struggled to have.
Time now snapped back to life, and everything was on fast-forward.
My heart jolted back to life, beating so hysterically inside me it felt as if it would burst out of my thr
oat at any second.
Thrusting up to both feet, my entire body trembled so much everything around me vibrated too.
The intense, overbearing sounds of the crash were only made louder by the absolute hush that followed. For a track this size, packed to the brim with people, you could have heard a pin drop.
It is the sound of death.
“Drew!” I yelled, but it came out in a shaky whisper. I grabbed the headset and yanked the mic so close it smacked against my teeth. “Drew.”
Silence.
I gazed out across the pileup. Drivers were climbing out of their cars, emerging from the smoke and wreckage.
Pacing toward the end of the rig, I peered about, looking for one person.
My person.
His car was upside down… what was left of it anyway. It teetered on the shell of what it had been just moments before. One tire was completely gone and so was the passenger side.
“Forrester,” I pleaded, starting my decent down the ladder. “Baby, answer me.”
Whoosh.
That was not the sound of his voice. It was the sound of flames igniting. Flames so close his headset picked up the noise.
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