Hate You, Henley: An Enemies To Lovers Sports Romance (Brooks University Book 3)

by Hannah Gray

  She throws her arms around my neck and peeks up at me. “Same with swimming. You were always the first person I wanted to share my wins with.”

  “I want all my moments with you. We are family, you and I. And I couldn’t love you more if I tried. And no matter what, I know we’ll be okay. Me going to Florida—this is just a small hurdle we have to cross before we get our time.”

  I slide down onto one knee and pull a box out of my pocket.

  “Henley, you said I was the best part of you. But you’re the best part of me too. It might have taken us too damn long to figure our shit out, but that was never because of lack of love. If anything, we loved each other too much. We looked out for each other, even when we hated each other. We needed each other, even when we didn’t want each other. And even in the midst of hell, I only ever saw you. Even through the flames and smoke. You were it. I knew it. And now, I’m ready to prove it.” I open the box, showing her the ring I had custom-made for her. “Marry me. Because I want everything with you. And I’m too selfish to wait any longer.”

  “Yes!” she squeals before I even get the last word out of my mouth. “Oh my God, Weston. I feel like …” She starts crying. “I feel like I’m in a dream.”

  I slide the ring onto her finger, and she pulls me to stand. Kissing me and soaking my face with her tears. Her eyes are leaking like a damn faucet.

  I cup her cheek. “Baby, those had better be happy tears.”

  “They are,” she says, kissing me again. “They really are.”

  I slide my hands down under her ass, lifting her up against me and giving her a squeeze. Her legs wrap around my waist, and she buries her face in my neck.

  “I love you. Oh my God, I love you so fucking much.”

  “Whoa,” I say, pulling back. “You said fucking. You hardly ever swear.”

  “I swear sometimes.” She rolls her eyes. “And I’m just really excited, okay?” she sobs.

  “I’m excited too, baby. I can’t wait to see you in your white dress. Or to build our first home. Or wake up with you every morning again once school is over.”

  She nuzzles back in.

  “And I can’t wait to see your belly get big with my baby in it.”

  At my words, she stiffens. We’ve never really talked about kids before. I didn’t want to scare her off, but I figured she felt the same. Now, I’m questioning if she does.

  “Hey,” I mumble into her hair. “You all right?”

  “Weston …” Her voice breaks. “Would it be a deal-breaker if I didn’t … want kids?”

  My heart drops. Nothing with this girl would be a deal-breaker. But I always pictured myself with a house full of kids. I’d buy her a huge-ass SUV, and we’d fill it with kids, their car seats, strollers, and crumbs from the little fuckers eating Happy Meals and shit. I never imagined I would never have kids.

  I sit down on the field, keeping her legs wrapped around me, and press my forehead to hers.

  “You don’t want my babies?” My heart feels like it’s being put through a fucking shredder. “It’s okay if you don’t. I’d understand.”

  “No, it’s not that.” She holds on to me tighter. Clinging to me, it seems. “What if … it happens again? What if I lose another baby?” Her voice grows thick with emotion. “What if I lose our baby? Because maybe … it’ll happen again. Maybe my body isn’t capable of having children.” Her words hit me, and it all makes sense now. “Would it be a deal-breaker for you if I couldn’t? And I don’t know if … I don’t think I could go through it again.”

  “Hey, you listen to me. Okay?” I say sharply.

  She slowly gives me a weak nod.

  “I want babies with you. I want as many babies as you can push out. I think you’d be the best mom, and I think we’d make some pretty fucking awesome kids.” I kiss her forehead. “But if it isn’t something you want or if we later find out it isn’t something you can do … I don’t care. I’d still want you. We’d adopt. And if you didn’t want that, that’d be okay too.” I watch her blue eyes fill with tears again. “I’ll go anywhere with you. And I’ll do anything for you. You are what I want, Henley. The rest we can figure out as we go.”

  She kisses me hard. Messy, rough, forceful kisses. And when she pulls back, she’s breathless. “I love you. You’re way too good to me.”

  My cock is now rock hard from our make-out session. And I watch her nipples strain against her light-blue tank top.

  Gripping her ass, I push her down against my dick. “See what you do to me?”

  Her eyes are glazy. And her breathing is erratic. “You do the same to me. I can’t control myself.” She bites her lip. “It’s almost pathetic … how needy I am when you’re around.”

  My girl. Always wanting to hook up in the craziest spots. And always down for whatever happens.

  I stand up, pulling her with me, and drag her toward the bleachers, slipping through the side opening and taking us to a hidden spot.

  I press my back up against the metal. “I always thought about bringing you under here.” I listen to her moan at my words as my hands go under her shirt, cupping her tits. “I’d fuck my hand in the shower, imagining it, before school each day.”

  “Yes …” she hisses. “I thought about that too.”

  “I need to taste you.” I unbutton her shorts and yank them down before gliding a finger in. “So tight. And always so ready for me.”

  I slide down against the metal wall of the bleachers. “Get up here and sit on my face.”

  She looks around but quickly realizes nobody can see us. And also, it’s summertime, so there isn’t anyone here—luckily. She needs this enough that all caution gets thrown out the window, and she climbs on top of me. I pull her closer, driving my tongue deep inside of her, making her cry out.

  “So sweet,” I murmur against her before flicking my tongue against a spot I know drives her wild.

  Her hands go from fisting my hair to grabbing the metal behind me as she greedily begins rocking back and forth, tossing her head back. Her long hair grazes my knuckles as my fingers rest just above her ass.

  Should I be buried between her legs, under a set of bleachers? Probably not. But it’s fast approaching dusk, and I was craving her something awful.

  “Oh, Weston,” she moans, rocking slower. “Oh … my … God.”

  “Mmhmm,” I grumble against her between sucking and licking. “Come undone, baby.”

  And she does. Holy hell, how she does. Crying out my name along with a slew of swear words spilling out of her innocent mouth.

  She climbs off me, and I pull my shorts down and take my cock out. Stroking it a few times, I pull her down onto me, and she screams.

  “See how fucking hard tasting you got me?” I reach the bottom of her hair and pull slightly. “You’re so fucking hot, dirty girl.”

  With my free hand, I pull her tank top down just enough to give me a clear view of her tits. Leaning down, I bring one of them into my mouth and suck. “The most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. Christ almighty, you kill me. Ride me, Henley,” I growl. “Show me how much you liked having my tongue inside of you.”

  “It was … so good,” she cries out and starts to ride me.

  She reaches around and cups my balls.

  “Fuck.” I grit my teeth. “Fucking hell.”

  She grinds up and down on me, and I move my hands to her hips, slamming her down with more force. A tingly feeling starts in my balls and goes up my body.

  “Come with me, pretty girl. I can’t fucking hold it. You feel too fucking good on my dick.”

  She starts to clench around me, and she whimpers.

  “I’m there too. Please, don’t stop. I’m …” A roar rips through her throat. “Fuck, Weston.”

  I dig my nails into her back and drive my face into her neck as I pour myself into her. And she takes every last ounce of me inside of her, squeezing around me greedily.

  And when we’re done, she winks. “Add that to another set of places we’
ve banged.”

  “I don’t think people say bang anymore,” I tease her. “Go on and say fucked. Rolls better off the tongue.”

  “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Add that to the places we’ve fucked.”

  And with her dirty words, I’ll be damned if I don’t want to go another round with her. But that’s not an option. Her parents are due back anytime now, and she wants to race home to tell both our parents at the same time that we’re engaged.

  Henley

  On the ride home, I look at this man. This beautiful, selfless, kindhearted man. Wondering how on earth God created someone with as much patience and grace and who is also the fiercest lover. I don’t know. But I don’t ever want to let him go.

  The past few years, I’ve come to realize something. I believe angels walk among us, disguised as mere mortals. Blending in when they need to but standing out when it counts.

  People could argue that Weston Wade is far from perfect. Heck, most days, I’d probably agree with them. But the thing is, there’s nothing written down, claiming angels are perfect. There’s literature mentioning things about saving people, guiding them, and healing them. But nothing involving the word flawless. In fact, one might say that an angel’s flaw is that they care too much and are too selfless, I suppose.

  Weston Wade saved me from myself. He guides me to be better, and he helped heal my wounds. Wounds that ran so deep that I thought I’d never find solace. So, if you’re saying Weston isn’t perfect, I stand with you. He is not. But if you’re claiming he’s not an angel, I promise you, you’re wrong. Because if it wasn’t for his love, I don’t know where I’d be.

  He is an angel. He is my angel.

  And his biggest flaw is that he loves me too damn much. And that also makes his biggest flaw my favorite one. Because everyone should know what it feels like to be loved too much.

  I wish everyone could find someone who loves them when they mess up. Who gives tough love when it’s needed. Who sees the grit and doesn’t hide but instead basks in it with you. Someone who fights for you to see yourself the way that they see you.

  So, find someone who teaches you to love yourself. Because if you have a good relationship with yourself and see yourself the way others do, you’ll be able to love more furiously. I promise.

  I feel so damn lucky that I did.

  “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Weston nods his chin at me. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “Not sure I should tell you. Your head will swell so big that it won’t fit in the truck.”

  “Something else swells pretty large, too, and it still fits.” He smirks, so proud of himself.

  “Oh my Lord.” I roll my eyes. “Well … I was thinking about how lucky I am. To be loved by someone like you.” I smile at him. “We joke around a lot, but I’m pretty thankful you’ve put up with my crazy ass over the years.”

  “You are crazy,” he whispers but grins at me. A grin that reaches his eyes. “But I love it.”

  We turn into his driveway and park.

  “Let’s go tell our parents our news.” He leans over, planting a kiss on my lips. “Then, I booked up a hotel for the night. Because it’s a big day, and I plan to make you come undone at least three more times before that clock strikes midnight and this day ends.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “And then I’ll make you come at least two or three more after that.”

  “That’s a lot …” I push my door open and climb out, looking over at him as he rounds the truck. “I don’t know if you’re up to the challenge.”

  Giving my ass a final spank before we walk inside, he leans down, kissing me once more. “I’m always up for the challenge, sweet cheeks. I’ll be a damn good husband too.”

  I have no doubt about that.

  Years ago, it felt like there was no happily ever after in sight. And now, my dreams are all coming true right before my eyes. I’m still on the swim team, setting goals and breaking records. I have an awesome group of friends. Dane and Weston are back to being the brothers they used to be—for the most part. And I have my person to spend forever with. I didn’t have to find him. I just had to find me.

  And I’m so freaking glad I did.

  epilogue

  Weston

  Four Years Later

  “Fellas, I got a lot on the line here,” I say to my team minutes before we run out onto the field and face off against the New England Patriots. “A year’s worth of steak dinners actually.”

  One of our defensemen shakes his head and laughs. “I’ll never get these steak dinner bets Knox Carter and you have before every game.”

  I shrug and pull my helmet halfway on, resting it on my forehead. “You’d have to know him, I guess. Dude loves him a steak dinner.”

  “I get it.” Our running back, Lane Rivers, grins as he pulls his own helmet on and walks toward the door. “Got my own bet going for this game too. But ours is a month of pizza.” He makes a suspicious face. “Steak for a fucking year. How much they paying you, big dog? I thought a month of pizza was a lot on the line.”

  Knox’s teammate, Trent Kade, is best friends with my teammate, Lane Rivers. And the two of them always have bets going, like we do. They are good dudes, and we’ve all become pretty good friends. Trent reminds me of Cole in some ways. His fierceness and determination toward football is outrageous. I’m glad Knox has him as his quarterback because he’s going to help them get far.

  “All right, boys, it’s game time.” I nod my chin up at my teammates. “Let’s get it done. It’s fucking cold out there. I’m ready to go back to Florida.”

  “Same, brother.” Lane bumps his fist against mine. “I went to college here in New England. This shit is for the birds.”

  Just like every time I run out onto that green field, with the music blaring and the screens everywhere, I get a certain high I’ve come to love, and only this game gives it to me.

  My girl’s here, watching. Just like she always is.

  After she graduated, she moved down with me. She teaches swim lessons at a facility right across the road from the stadium. She has the flexibility to travel with me while also doing something she loves.

  I know one day, she’d love to coach a swim team. And I hope she does it. She’s had a few places track her down, offering her a position. Hell, even her swim coach from Brooks tried to get her on board there. But she wasn’t ready to make a commitment just yet. After wasting too much time apart, all we want is to be with each other.

  She’s my biggest supporter and the driving force behind why I want to be the best man I can be. She deserves that. She deserves everything.

  I came into this world, only wanting her. And even now, she’s the only thing that numbs the pain when I have a bad day. She’s my saving grace and my very favorite thing.

  Oh, and she’s downright sexy. Down to do it whenever and wherever.

  We got married last year in our sacred spot at the lake. Right at Carvers Ledge. Made everyone hike their ass through the woods. She didn’t wear a white dress, and I didn’t care. We only had our closest friends and family there. And after, we even jumped off the top. Only this time, I didn’t have to convince her.

  We’ve talked about babies, and while I really want to start a family with her, I don’t want to pressure her. She needs to come to that decision on her own, and I’ll be there either way. Loving her, no matter what. Because loving her, that’s what I was made to do.

  “Fuck, it’s cold,” I mutter, making my way to Coach.

  When he sees me, he smacks my helmet. “What do you say? Let’s get this over with, so we can head back to warm weather.”

  I nod and grin. “I like that idea.”

  Henley

  “This worked out so well.” Sloane jumps up and down, pulling me against her. “I love when the guys play each other.”

  I pull my Buccaneers beanie down further on my head. “Is it always so freaking cold here?” I glare at her. “Why aren’t you shivering? It’s so cold that my bra
in is actually becoming numb.”

  “Oh, you get used to it. Sloane did. She’s been here a few years now,” a beautiful girl named Cameran says to me. She is engaged to Trent Kade, the opposing team’s quarterback. “I came from California. But I’ve been in New England for years. I sort of like the cold now.”

  “Why?”

  Okay, I’m calling it. She’s a nutjob. Anyone who would subject themselves to this has to be.

  She shrugs. “Just do, I guess. Better than being sweaty, right?”

  “That’s debatable,” I mutter.

  At least you can cover up sweat with a crapload of deodorant.

  My friend Memphis comes over and stands next to me. We became good friends because her husband, Lane Rivers, is also on the Buccaneers. In a way, we’re a lot alike. Other than she’s much more patient with just about everything.

  I nudge Sloane. “Who will be buying steak dinners for a year?” I narrow my eyes, my competitive side coming out, even over a damn piece of meat. “My money is on the Bucs. We’re about to serve your asses on a plate.”

  She’s far too sweet. And after bowling and mini-golfing with her, I’ve realized she doesn’t have a competitive bone in her body.

  She shrugs and looks out at her man on the field. “I guess we will see.”

  “Glad our men aren’t the only ones who bet crap.” Memphis rolls her eyes. “But ours is a month of pizza. A year seems excessive.”

  I laugh. The women I’ve been able to meet and build connections with has made the experience of being an NFL player’s wife so much richer. And the men Weston has become friends with have done the same.

  I might love Sloane, but the second that clock starts, it’s game on. Just like a buzzer after the words take your mark at a swim meet, everything else becomes a bit of a blur.

  Weston

  Knox walks over to me, rubbing his belly. “So, now that we’ve won … do those steak dinners start right away or …”