Matters to Me: A Football Romance (The Hart Series Book 4)

by M. E. Carter

  “What’s that?” He’s already taking my stuff out of my hand, prepared to set me up in the bathroom. As he turns for the door, he stops in his tracks. Turning slowly, he looks at me and takes a deep breath. “Annika’s not here to help you in the bathroom.”

  I nod, nerves taking over. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. I can probably do it on my own.” I don’t know why I feel this way. He’s my boyfriend. Hell, he felt me up last night. But for some reason, I feel shy. Like sharing my body with him is important. I want it to mean something.

  Oh god, no. I can’t be falling in love with him, can I?

  I roll the thought around in my brain for a second. Is that a bad thing? To love Heath? I don’t think so. He’s a good man. Kind and loyal, hardworking and with a lot of drive, full of integrity. He’s horrible about showing everything he’s feeling on his face, but as far as flaws go, I wouldn’t consider that more than an annoyance sometimes. If I’m going to fall in love with anyone, he deserves it the most. It just makes things more complicated. And complicated makes me nervous.

  “It’s okay,” I say with resolve. “I need to start doing things on my own again, so it’ll be good for me to try.”

  Heath bites his bottom lip and looks around the room like he’s trying to figure out the best course of action. “Are you sure?” he finally says. “I don’t want you to lose your balance and put pressure on it or fall over.”

  “I’m sure.” Not that I have much of a choice. “I’ll take it slow, and if I run into problems, I’ll call you.”

  He pauses, hands on his hips, before finally conceding. “Okay. Let’s get you set up.”

  He quickly deposits my clothes on the bathroom counter and shampoo on the edge of the bath while I hobble behind him on the crutches I rarely use. They’re fine for my room, but anywhere outside the dorm is too far for me to get to.

  I grab the plastic leg sleeve that will cover my cast so I can shower without it getting wet. It’s a pain to get on and off, but a necessary evil.

  Looking around the room, Heath finally seems satisfied that everything is ready for me. “Okay. I think you’re good. I’m gonna be right out the door, so if you need anything, just yell.”

  I flash him a smile because he is the sweetest. “I will. Promise.”

  He nods once and out the door he goes, closing it softly behind him.

  Getting my sports bra off is easy. My shorts, however, are a little more difficult. It takes some maneuvering, and thankfully, I’m flexible, but I’m finally free of them and sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Yes, it’s gross, but again, necessary evil.

  Grabbing the plastic sleeve, l scrunch it up and lean over to get it situated over my foot. Unfortunately, that’s the easy part. Getting it much past that isn’t working.

  I grunt, trying to contort my body into a different angle to get the damn thing over my heel and around my ankle, but I can’t find the right position.

  “Shit,” I grumble and take a few breaths. I never expected to feel winded from trying to get on the equivalent of one pant leg.

  “Are you okay?” Heath calls from the other side of the door. “It’s been a while, and I haven’t heard the water running yet.”

  “I’m just having some issues with the plastic sleeve.”

  He pauses and I already know why. This might be a two-person job. And he’s the only other person here.

  “Um…” I hear his throat clear, a strong tell that he’s nervous. “… Do you need my help?”

  I drop my head back and close my eyes. Do I need his help? Most definitely. But do I want it? Most definitely to that question as well. Is it a good idea, though? That’s what I’m unsure about. Because I want Heath. And I want to cross that line with him. I do. I just don’t know what happens after that, and that scares me.

  Regardless, I can’t just sit here naked and dirty. I’m going to have to suck it up, cross my fingers, and hope he’s truly the man he claims to be.

  “Yeah. I think I do.”

  Another pause as he processes my words. “You’re already naked, aren’t you?”

  A giggle bursts out of me because I can almost see his shocked face as he said that. “Typically, that’s what we do when we’re getting ready to shower, yes.”

  “Okay, well, um… maybe put a towel over you so I don’t see anything. That I shouldn’t. Or that you don’t want me to see. Or whatever.”

  The way he stumbles over his words has me feeling more confident. Knowing he’s as nervous as I am makes me feel safe, in a weird way.

  I grab the towel and drape it over me as best as I can. My hip is still exposed but it’s the best I can do with the size towel I have. I knew I should have asked for oversized fluffy towels for Christmas.

  “You can come in,” I finally call out and brace myself for his perusal. Will he like what he sees? Will my body turn him on? Will my lack of boobs make him laugh? They’re all irrational thoughts, but that’s me—irrational when I’m scared.

  He shuffles in the room taking one glance and quickly looking away. I know it’s his way of trying to protect my privacy in a very non-private moment. Instead, he looks down at my leg. “You almost got it over your heel,” he says with a small smile that relaxes me.

  “I know they have to make the rubber at the top tight to make sure water doesn’t get in, but could they not have figured out an easier way to get it on?” I joke as Heath squats down in front of me. I suck in a breath because I’m very aware of how close he is to my very naked private parts. Based on the leap of the muscles inside me, my private parts are also very aware of how close he is.

  The air in the room practically crackles with tension as he gently reaches for my foot and rests it on his leg. The move causes my legs to spread apart and I’m once again hit with how intimate this moment feels. I watch his face, his jaw tightening and nostrils flaring. Try as I might, I can’t stop my eyes from dropping to look at his crotch, where his shorts have suddenly gotten tighter.

  This situation isn’t supposed to feel sexual, but our bodies don’t seem to care.

  “Try not to move your leg,” he commands when he gets a good grip on the rubber. We work together, my eyes locked on his face as he watches what he’s doing. It takes effort, but he finally slides the sleeve into place, his fingers grazing the back of my knee as he makes sure the seal is correct. The feeling makes me gasp and almost as quickly, his eyes snap up to mine.

  I can see every emotion on his face, every battle he’s having in this moment as his fingers continue moving gently over my skin. The lust. The desire. The respect. And I think, unless I’m totally off base, I think I see love.

  I can’t move my eyes from his. Can’t tear away from his gaze as I come to my conclusion.

  I want him. I want him now. I want him here. I want him forever.

  “Heath,” I say quietly, barely above a whisper.

  His hand drops and he pushes to a stand, trying and failing to discreetly adjust himself in his shorts. He looks away and clears his throat. “I’ll uh… I’ll be outside the door.”

  Before he can move, I grab his hand. Standing up, I pay no attention to the towel that just dropped to the floor. Heath, on the other hand, looks directly at the towel then up at me very obviously avoiding looking at my body. His attempt at respect is appreciated but not needed. This is Heath. I trust him.

  Balancing on one leg, I grab the hem of his shirt and lift it up. With the height difference, he has to help me pull it over his head. I can still see the question in his eyes. The concern that he’s misinterpreting my actions.

  Hooking my fingers in his shorts, I slowly push them down, never taking my eyes off his. “Stay,” I breathe. “I need help, but more importantly, I need you.”

  His big hand comes up to cup my jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you.” We both know there’s a double meaning to his declaration and his concern is what cements my decision.

  “Then don’t.”

  My words seem to spur him on because suddenly,
his shoes and socks are off, the water in the shower is on and he lifts me up, chest to chest, as he steps over the lip of the tub and into the spray. The water is warm enough but it’s the heat of his skin that has my body practically burning up. Still, Heath is determined to take things slow.

  With eyes locked on mine, he takes his time soaping me up, his strong hands grazing over my skin as he works. When his fingers make their way to my breasts, he rubs in gentle circles, once, twice, and allows his thumbs to rub over my nipples before pinching them between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation makes me gasp and his breath hitches as he watches my face.

  He adds more body wash to his hands, rubs them together to create more suds and down my body they go, over my flat stomach, the swell of my hips, moving over so they can circle my thigh and continue sliding down until he’s on his knees in front of me. Seemingly unable to resist, he kisses my pubic area, just above where the small landing strip of hair leads down to where I want him the most. It’s pure, unadulterated torture when he stands and makes quick work of washing the rest of me.

  He reaches to grab the body wash again, but I touch his arm to stop him. “My turn.”

  Biting my lip, I make sure to have a good amount of lather. It’s my turn to explore the dips and curves of his physique, and I don’t want to waste time having to lather up again.

  Placing my hands on his neck, I begin the trek downward with the back of his shoulders, around to his biceps, over to his pecks. His abs flex at my touch, and the shadows behind the heavy curtain combined with his dark skin make even the few scars marring his body seem to glow. His hips cut down to the “V” that guides me like a map.

  And then my fingers are wrapped around him and he gasps as I stroke slowly. He’s proportional for his body size, and he’s built like a football player, so I have to remind myself that means he’s probably bigger than I’ve had before. The thought could scare me but somehow, I know this means more to him than a quick fuck. He’ll be gentle until I tell him not to hold back. Because this is the beginning of making love.

  He allows me to peruse for a few more minutes before he grasps my wrist tightly. “Enough,” he demands. Quickly, he shuts the water off behind me and grabs a towel, wiping us both down and tossing it aside. When he’s satisfied that I’m dry enough to not get any residual wetness in my cast, he positions himself to remove the plastic sleeve off my leg.

  The care he takes to make sure he does it right, combined with the cool air, make my nipples even harder. I don’t understand how he’s made clunky, awkward moves with my cast sexy, but he does. I have no doubt it goes back to the fact that he loves me. He hasn’t said it. He may not even know it. But he certainly treats me like it.

  When I’m finally free, he hoists me up, his hands underneath my butt and kisses me. We are a mash of tongues and lips, soft moans and pulls of hair. He walks us back into my room and gently lays me down on the bed.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod vigorously because I’m more sure about him than anything in my life.

  That’s all he needs before the foreplay begins again. We spend what seems like hours tasting and teasing, exploring the most intimate parts of each other, always aware of my injury and making sure the only thing we feel is pleasure.

  When he finally pushes inside me, I gasp. No sexual experience has ever been like this. I’ve never felt this kind of intimate love before, and I only want it like this from now on.

  As we push and pull and thrust into our joined ecstasy, a single tear slides down my face from the pure, unfiltered joy I feel as my orgasm rocks through me. Nothing has ever felt so right, and I’m so grateful to be here in this moment.

  When we’re able to catch our breath, he kisses me gently, hovering over my body. Then he rolls next to me and pulls me to him.

  “You okay?” he whispers in my ear, brushing my hair off my neck so he can kiss me gently.

  “Yeah,” I say, snuggling into him. “I’m more than okay.”

  As I lose consciousness to sleep, I force my negative self-talk out of my head. There’s no way this was just a one-night stand. And if I have my way, I won’t have any of those ever again.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Heath

  “Ooof!” I grunt as I slide along the turf, football secure in my arms. I wasn’t expecting to be hit from that angle.

  “You’re not paying attention to your left side,” Jaxon bitches as he puts his hand out to help me up. Not sure how he got to his feet before me, but it’s nice to see some of his speed back.

  Reaching up, I pop to my feet. “Well, it’s been a while since I’ve had a reason to look for you.”

  I toss Jax the ball and he throws it back toward the line of scrimmage, not that they need it. Coach is on the field, talking with the QB about some plays he wants to try. It’s been happening all day. Now that the regular season is over and we didn’t get a spot in a bowl game, practice is a little lax. We’re still pushing ourselves, but we’re trying some new stuff. There’s always another season to prep for.

  I’m not complaining about getting a bit of a break. I just can’t afford to get lazy. I’ve still got decisions to make.

  “Seems like those iron pills are finally working for you.”

  Jax pulls his helmet off and runs his fingers through his sweaty mop. “Really? We’re gonna talk about my health instead of your skills?”

  And my best friend is finally back. Thank god. “No. We’re gonna talk about how nice it is that you’re not being a pussy anymore. And before we change topics, I’m gonna say this one time.” We stop walking and I get right in his personal space and point at him. “You ever pull that shit again and not take care of yourself, and we’re gonna have problems. I let it go once. I won’t do that again. I care about you too much.”

  He puts his hands on his hips and nods once. “I hear ya. It won’t happen again.”

  “Good.” I punch him on the shoulder and go back to the task at hand. “Now tell me what I did wrong on that play.”

  We spend the next few minutes discussing some small tweaks Jaxon thinks I should make based on my archrival’s most recent game. In true Jaxon form, he’s finally back to watching stats and crunching numbers. Add onto that, his anatomy class has him observing the human body in a different way. It’s oddly helpful. It’s also good to see him feeling better. Even Annika seems more relaxed on the side of the field as she watches.

  We head back to the line, expecting to go again but instead, Coach calls it for the day. I’m a little peeved that I don’t have a chance to redo the play, but it happens. Besides, I’m not gonna complain about getting to the gym to pick up my girlfriend a little sooner than normal. If I’m lucky, she’ll be showing off her flexibility when I get there.

  Visual images of exactly how flexible she is come racing back into my mind. Oh yeah. Dating a gymnast is a very, very good idea.

  “Have you decided what to do yet?” Jaxon asks, as we slowly make our way back to the locker room. I’m grateful for the distraction so I don’t embarrass myself with a public erection. I’m not, however, excited about this change in topic.

  I haven’t told anyone other than Jaxon about being invited to the combine yet. Coach obviously knows since he’s the one who handed me the invitation the other day, but I’m still on the fence about it so I haven’t made it public information. I didn’t want input and pressure from people whose opinions don’t matter while I make the biggest decision of my life so far.

  “I don’t know, man. I have a couple of weeks to decide before the registration deadline,” I say as I strip my jersey off and fling it onto my shoulder. “I thought for sure I’d jump at the chance, but I’m having second thoughts.”

  “How is that even possible? It’s all you’ve talked about for the last three and a half years.”

  “I know. But if I get drafted now, I won’t be done with my degree.”

  “That’s because you double majored in business and finance, you dumb ass,” he jokes
. “If you’d done one degree, you’d be done.”

  I shoot him a glare. “Says the guy who changed his major to pre-med this year.” He shrugs but doesn’t respond because he knows I’m right. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know the right thing to do. I could take another year to improve my performance, maybe add a few pounds, get my degree.”

  “Hang out with a certain gymnast a little longer…”

  I shove him which makes him laugh. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this decision.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t? Because the way I remember it, a few months ago there was no question that you’d go if you were invited. Now suddenly, you’re spending every night in her bed, taking care of her while she’s injured, and considering spending another year in college where she’ll be.”

  He’s right. As much as I don’t like it, Lauren is part of my thought process. I just found her. I just fell for her. And now I’m considering moving away from her? It’s unlikely I’ll be drafted to the team that’s moving to San Antonio since they haven’t even completed construction of the new stadium yet, which means no matter where I go, it’ll be far away.

  I pull open the outside door that leads into the locker room as I continue to think. Throwing my sweaty pads down, I start stripping. The cooler temps outside feel good to work out in, but don’t make much of a difference in the sweat department. What I need is a hot, hard shower spray to pound against my shoulders and give me some time to think.

  There doesn’t seem to be any privacy for me, though. Jaxon plops down on the bench next to me and begins unlacing his shoes. “Listen, man, I’m not judging you for having feelings for her. I like Lauren. Always have. It’s just a complete one-eighty for you. You’ve spent a lot of time avoiding women to keep your focus on playing ball and now, you’re having conflicting feelings about the combine.”

  “That has nothing to with her. I’ve always been conflicted about whether or not I’d go at year four or five.”

  “I know that. But take her out of the mix for one second. If she was still that annoying roommate of my girlfriend that you couldn’t stand, what would you do?”