Catching Hearts Page 4

  Crass hangover too, but who knows.

  “Well, I’m off.” my feet steps towards the door with a wave over my shoulder.

  Julie shouts her goodnight when the entrance comes to view, there’s no one around as it’s most likely really late at night. My beauty sleep calls as I yawn behind my hand.

  “Evie,” Adam calls from behind me, and I turn to see his massive chest right in my face.

  I take a step back and my neck aches as it looks him into his eyes. This man just has to be this tall, but it’s what caught my attention in the first place. He reeks of power and strength, and those don’t come easily to average people.

  All the guys I’ve seen on campus are wannabe bodybuilders and their fashion senses are extraordinary, I either see them well-dressed or a malfunction with their wardrobe.

  “I’ll take you home,” he offers, dropping a hand on the small of my back to guide me down the flight of stairs.

  “Are you sure? Aren’t you scared of some scandal of a football star seen with a chili pepper?”

  Adam shakes his head with a deep chuckle, “You are hot.”

  I click my tongue at him and his smooth words, I know he doesn’t have to try to be slick to make my heart pace.

  “No, I want to make sure you get home safe.” he insists, “Don’t fight me on this.”

  Night sky twinkle with little stars, clouds of dark grey slowly moving across the darkness. A breezy smell of leaves and freshly cut grass calms me in ways that remind me of a nice day after a rainstorm.

  I glance over when I see his shadow moving, his shirt stretches over thick arms as he secures a hat over his inky hair and a black mask that reminds me of surgical masks.

  A celebrity needs to remain hidden from the world to avoid gossip, I doubt his coach would be too happy when he finds out that Adam has a mysterious woman and the world would go crazy.

  I prefer not to be the one to be his career downfall if all his sponsorship gets canceled.

  “You don’t know where I live,” I said, blinking at this new piece of information.

  For some reason it doesn’t sit right with me, it’s as if he should know where I live. It’s weird, and I don’t know how to describe this feeling.

  His word is muffled in the mask, “No.”

  My mouth dries, “You’re willing to drop me off at home and you don’t know how far I live.”

  I intend on walking because Julie and I walked here, it’s not far from our apartment. Adam doesn’t know that and if some odd chance that I live across the city then I have no idea how this would work out.

  Would he hail a cab and get in with me, drop me off and then use the taxi to get back to this building?

  “I don’t mind distance if you’re safe.”

  I laugh, the cement hits the bottom of my tennis shoes. “My knight in shining armor.”

  “I can be your prince charming too.” Adam is serious when he says that.

  My smile keeps the squeal from ruining the calm atmosphere as we walk, he stresses on taking the side by the road to keep a watchful eye on everything. He takes my hand and our palms meet hotly, I cling onto his strong fingers when he initiates the tight grip.

  “Question,” I begin, “And no offense, but I have never heard of you. If you’re going to be walking me home, I should at least know something about you.”

  I can hear his deep voice over the muffling, “Name’s Adam Ross, quarterback for the Titans. I’ve been playing for four years, there were some small injuries, but I got better. My family is from Washington D.C., politics and shit. I have a little brother who is a competitive swimmer.”

  His knuckles are protruding, sturdy in the way that they function as a supportive backbone for the nimble fingers.

  “You don’t have to tell me personal things, Mr. Ross.” I caress his bones faintly, silently loving the size difference between us as his shadow blocks my entire frame from the streetlights.

  He growls, “It’s Adam.”

  Oh no, did I hit a nerve?

  “I want to hear my name from your lips,” he peers down on me, “It’s more intimate.”

  Dark eyes narrowing on my green hues, flashing dangerously in those irises that prowl a carnal creature.

  Okay, I didn’t hit a nerve. It’s just Adam being, dare I say, a possessive man who wants me to know how much he wants me. Even if he doesn’t say it, I know it by the intensity in his eyes that soaks my panties.

  I’ve never felt this way before, no one had been close to making my body burn so hot that anything touches me makes my throat whimper in want.

  I clear my throat, focusing on the road in front of us. Not a soul is out this late, and I’m glad he offered to walk me home or I’d be sprinting down the street like a madman because of how scared I would be.

  “Your parents are politicians, but you and your brother are athletes.” I purse my lips, furrowing my brows in the inconsistency.

  My eyebrows raise to the hairline and I blink questioningly at him, “Where’d the athletic genes come from?”

  “Do you want to find out, Evie?” his chest rolls in a seductive hum as his eyes flare, “I am very generous when I want to be.”

  Blood rush to my face and I squeeze his hand in reprimand at his sneaky little innuendo. Pouting up at him, I push the fleshiness out to the maximum to rattle the chains of discipline in him.

  “I’ll settle for that date first,” I remind him.

  He said, “Tell me the day and time, I’ll pick you up.”

  My breath hitches at his quick response, “D-don’t you have practice or a game?”

  He nods, sliding his cap further down when a woman passes us. Her eyes are frozen in place while her body is moving so the entire picture is funny that I had to laugh under my breath.

  “You’d be accommodating, wouldn’t you?”

  I don’t have to see his lips to know that there’s a sexy smirk beneath that black mask.

  “When you ask so nicely, how could I say no?” I give him a bright smile, giggling to myself when he changes the way we hold hands. Our palms are still touching, but our fingers are between each other in a fixed lock.

  “Tell me about you,” Adam asks.

  My hand has got to be sweaty now, he hasn’t shown a sign that he’s grossed out by it. He could be used to it because he is in a sport that requires dripping six-foot men to be in shoulder pads and constant sweating.

  “Julie and I live in the same apartment, I have eight o’clock classes that I regret taking. I’m not a big fan of football, if at all. I remember my dislike with sports starting from middle school when balls gravitated towards me.”

  I pause and realize how dirty that sounds but it’s already out and Adam is laughing with that heavenly husky voice.

  “Julie and I get along really well, but we do have occasional disagreements, she said I’m Hermione’s ugly distant cousin.” I huff resentfully at those memories flashing at me.

  There’s a loud growl of disapproval and I nod thoughtlessly with him, “You are not ugly.”

  “Right?” my voice raises a notch higher, “How dare she, I’m totally a Weasley with this hair!”

  I’m jerked back by the unmovable force as my fingers get caught in the web of his, my head snaps at him and without a second to spare, he closes the distance on us.

  Hand linking snugly with mine, another cupping my jaw in a grip that baffled me in their mean hold, and his mouth descend on mine hotly.

  I moan wantonly.

  Shame on me for giving into him so easily, where is the adult in me when I need it?

  Truthfully speaking, I don’t mind him using his domineering mindset on me.

  Chapter Six

  Adam

  There’s no way for me to foresee this drastic change in my plans.

  The coach had a vigorous training schedule for us to win this home game; early morning runs, afternoon games, and evening weight training. It changes up the order of time occasionally, but everything stays the
same. We barely have time to do anything else; food, shower, and rest.

  I haven’t had time to myself after I had dropped my lovely Evie off at her apartment, I made sure she locked the doors securely because it’s not exactly the safest neighborhood and I plan on changing it when I have time to sit down and formulate a plan to get that risky place to nullify her lease.

  After that, I called her on the way back to the building where the couch had rounded us up. Her friend Julie had been taken home too, but we didn’t run into each other. I wouldn’t have anything to say to her anyway.

  Our phone conversation lasted over an hour and a half by the time I took my sweet-ass time going back. Coach simply rolled his eyes at my love-struck face as Romero’s big mouth told me.

  I was proud to wear it.

  The next morning, shit hit the fan.

  Tabloids and every social media platform had a grainy picture of two people hand-in-hand walking down the familiar streets. That photo seemed to be taken from a cellphone, and I suddenly remembered the woman who had brushed past Evie and me. I thought she recognized me for a moment, but there was no commotion, so I hadn’t given it much thought.

  The quality was too blurry to put a face to both people, but I knew it was Evie and me.

  Headlines were blasting people’s shocked and intrigued questions of whether this was a secret lover, our team doesn’t have distractions such as significant others. The team had flings and typical one-night stands, but nothing long-term.

  I wouldn’t be caught dead in a scandal with unknown women, I always thought they were trouble. Coming after us for fame and money, notoriety for being able to sleep with a Titan and brag to anyone willing to listen.

  With our residential pervert, Romero doesn’t step foot into a shameful sinkhole when women he’s bedded claim they are pregnant.

  No one can use that fuckery on me when I have never looked at them.

  While my teammates and I follow through the training schedule, our coach tried to settle the rattled fans because denial would have caused more uproar, the picture clearly showed a member of Titans and a woman holding hands coming from the direction of the place where the VIP meeting was held. The icing on the cake, it’s also the place where the large facility is reserved for our preparation of the next game.

  It was easy to put them together. Some trolls wanted to stir the boiling pot of nonsense while many wanted to speculate on this affair.

  Since then, I couldn’t get in contact with Evie.

  I tried and tried, but it went to voicemail every time. I had Romero called his woman to get Evie on the phone, I want to make sure she was alright and more importantly if she was upset with those bloodhounds sniffing for their next story because the mystery woman became their sole focus.

  Julie had answered and told me that Evie was in class and she didn’t know why she hadn’t been picking up my calls.

  Before I had the chance to get to the bottom of the radio silence of Evie, I was thrown into a session of rapid training that had me moaning into my bed.

  Seventy-two hours, three thousand-six minutes, and seconds counting.

  That’s how long my body has been aching to hold Evie, to hear her soft voice, and experience that sass in her gorgeous green eyes.

  I started to miss her the moment she shut the door to her apartment and I stood there for five minutes like a creep to make sure no one in the neighborhood was suspicious and I only left when her lights turned on and she called me on my phone to tell me to stop looming at her door.

  Is Evie having second thoughts?

  “Focus!” my coach screams from the field and the air in my lungs get knocked out as my balance tilts on its axis.

  My vision blurs over, blinking away the distortions with a groan in the back of my throat. The part where my head got smacked into the helmet throbs dully and Romero’s face replaces the clear blue sky.

  “Miss your Evie already?” he teases, helping me up with a hand.

  I hiss protectively, “Don’t call her that.”

  He surrenders the argument with two hands raised, “Just want you to know that Julie gave me an update on your plum. She’s fine, not hurt or anything but she’s got no idea why your ladybug won't call you back.”

  I should be more concerned about why Evie is dodging my calls, but the fact that this man is calling my Evie all these odd names leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I don’t want this to turn into a habit where he labels her all these different nicknames, I want to be the only one to be that close to her.

  Her friend Julie will have to take a backseat.

  “Fine,” he shrugs after seeing the disgruntled expression on my not-so approachable face. “She’s going to be Chiquita to me.”

  Ideally, he wouldn’t be calling her anything. However, he is family and Evie would have to spend time with everyone to get to know them and get along with each other.

  She didn’t look overwhelmed at the VIP meeting, she looked appallingly calm for someone who was meeting celebrities.

  Attractive ones may I add.

  I hate to put this cast of shadow in me, but I have to admit, everyone on the team is not bad looking and they all have their own unique characteristics that identify them.

  Thank god she wasn’t interested in them.

  “Ten-minute break!” coach shouts from the sideline and I shake my head away from the drumming in my ears as I feel a couple of hands slapping my back.

  I crack the tension from my neck and yank off the helmet, cool air changing the heated sweat clinging onto my forehead. The sun is glaring down on the grassy field, there isn’t much force to pick up wind to unruffle my agitated body.

  The vein in my neck pulses and my feet quickly carries me over to my belongings on the bench, the water bottle is what I go for and the iciness runs down my throat in swift sessions.

  “Goddamn, what the hell is wrong with you today?” Zeke probes with his own bottle in hand.

  Romero answers for me, “Goji berry.”

  An awkward moment of silence falls upon our shoulders as everyone in the vicinity collectively belittle the shit out of Romero with their eyes. Our team with the longest limbs butts in with a deadpanned expression that scares most people.

  “Is that your new green juice ingredient?”

  Romero gasps in defense, “It’s a secret for a reason.”

  “I’ll pass on your death juice,” Zeke chimes in and dodges a wet towel.

  Romero yells, “I didn’t offer!”

  The man with obnoxiously long arms and legs, Sol, wiggles his finger creepily towards Romero. “That goji berry, she’s that girl that called you Walrus.”

  Romero gasps and defends himself with more whites in his eyes than black, “She’s not a real fan!”

  I close my eyes and my feet tap impatiently on the sandy floor, my phone is in the locker and the need to run back and call her eats at me. Their bantering never bothered me before, but I have been wallowing in self-assurance that Evie is busy and she’s not avoiding me.

  “Her friend is,” Zeke mentions.

  Romero crackles, “We met up again, and I need a new bed frame.”

  Sol snorts, “Yeah, because of your fatass weighs more than the bed itself.”

  “Muscles,” Romero tries to throw punches at Sol who dodges with hands knocking the incoming fists or moving his body away.

  My teeth grind down as the tension in my jaw ticks, aching to explode with my frustration. I have some pent-up irritation that needs to be flourished out, my teammates will have to tolerate this edginess in my moves as I might knock them harder than I normally do.

  I map out the road to Evie’s home, it should take me about fifteen minutes to get over there. When I get my hands on her supple little ass, I’m going to show her what disregarding my order to pick up the damn phone means.

  I snap the protection over my head and the scowl I set intensifies, the other three men near me feels the temperature from my demeanor drop to subzero, it’s abou
t the best I can do if they don’t want a verbal beatdown from a man going through withdrawal on obsession.

  Coach instructs us and barks at where we could strengthen our defense or how to break down the other team’s offense. The game felt longer, it took forever for the sun the set because daylight is stronger in the summer.

  By the time dinner comes by to call on everyone’s stomach, I left for the shower immediately. There was no use lingering around when I have things to do, I know the question is in the back of everyone’s mind. They want to know what the hell is going on with me as I have never acted this way before, I’m never this impatient and wound up. There isn’t one game that is able to heat my body up like Evie, I’m ready to burst if I don’t alleviate some of this tension in my muscles and I know just how to get rid of it.

  When I come out of the shower, my phone shows that it is about six in the afternoon and weight training begins two hours after dinner to let digestion take its course.

  I rustle in the back of my locker, I take out the ID card that I haven’t given back to her. I wanted to take her out on a date and hand it back, but it seems that my way is not working. Originally, I planned on treating her like a princess. Flowers and a nice dinner, and I would kiss her goodnight with a promise for the next date.

  Whatever is running in her head, it doesn’t warrant this silent treatment. Whether it’s the buzzing hype of picture taken of us or she’s having second thoughts about being involved with me, a man with too much attention on him.

  I don’t think her identity is known or else everyone would be freaking out, I have no regards if I was named on the tabloids, but I want to keep Evie out of the limelight for her own protection.

  Depending on her answer when I interrogate her, she would either get that nice dinner or me between her legs.

  I assume she has no objection as her thighs rubbed together when she was with me. Her little cunt begs for me, waiting to be stuffed with my big cock, but social standards of a relationship dictate three dates before having me rut her into the sheets.