Jock Romeo Page 24
Fall in love?
Is that what this is? “Uh, thanks?”
“I’m serious!”
At that moment, Aunt Myrtle enters the kitchen, shuffling through in a muumuu, pink marabou slippers on her feet.
“If Roman’s bedroom is rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’.”
Mom goes slack-jawed. “Roman!”
“Mom—nothing happened in my bedroom, I swear!” Nothing except some oral and a hand job. Does that count as nothing?
She wouldn’t understand that Lilly and I are on an edging quest so I won’t come as fast when we have actual sex.
Aunt Myrtle hums softly as she putters around the kitchen, pretending to ignore us, tsking as she brews herself a Nespresso as if she were Gen Z.
“Jack said to see if you have Fritos,” she randomly announces, turning toward me. “I knew I came in here for a reason.”
Mom nods. “Yes, I bought him Fritos.”
My friends—and girlfriend—are crowded in the living room of my parents’ house, something that’s become a habit for them since Thanksgiving. Jack loves hanging out here as much as my mother loves having him—I think it reminds him a little bit of home, and he is craving that. So almost every weekend, if none of the four of us has plans, we come here.
It’s not my first choice in hangouts, but who am I to deny my new friend a family away from his family?
So much has happened since the last time we hung out here, too.
At the end of the football season, Lilly left the cheer team. Since then, she has been volunteering at a local dance academy and teaching classes to beginners. She loves it, is less stressed out, and finally gets to do what she loves best, but at no cost to her sanity.
Were her parents pissed off?
Absolutely.
Has Lilly stopped worrying about what they think? For the most part. Their opinion has been ingrained in her since she was born, so a part of her still worries when she does something they don’t agree with, but she’s been happier since she quit the cheerleading team.
We were all really proud of her.
Well, her roommate Kaylee wasn’t, but honestly? We’re both graduating at the end of the semester, and Lilly wants to get her master’s degree; she feels her focus should be on that rather than a career in dancing that won’t lead to anything further than more pulled muscles and sprained ankles.
It’s not as if she’s going to try out for the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders or a professional basketball dance team.
The time to leave was now.
She loves those little kids at the academy and wishes she would have done it sooner.
Mom goes to the pantry to fetch the Fritos while I watch my great aunt purse her hot pink lips at me from across the room.
“What?” I ask her, not sure why she’s making faces at me. “Why are you giving me that look?”
“What look? I have a date tonight—does this expression make me look alluring?” Her lips do a trout pout.
“Alluring?” Um, no.
“Yes, alluring? Sexy. I want him to move in for a kiss. The old bastard hasn’t made a move on me yet, and we’ve gone out twice.”
“Aunt Myrtle, I’m sure he’s trying to be a gentleman,” Mom says, walking back into the kitchen with a bag of chips and a few more snacks. She goes and grabs a few bowls, dumping the junk food into them and passing them off to me.
“I don’t want him to be a gentleman—we’ve been over this four times. Either one of us could kick the bucket any day now, so what’s he waiting for? An invitation?”
Mom laughs. “Possibly.”
“Well he ain’t gettin’ one.” Aunt Myrtle takes her tiny espresso cup with a huff, shuffling out of the room, marabou cascading behind her.
A pink feather flutters to the ground.
Mom sags against the counter. “I cannot with her. She thinks she’s Bette Davis in a movie straight out of the forties.”
“Whatever makes the old girl happy. She isn’t wrong—they could kick the bucket any day now.” I say it with a laugh as my mother gasps, shooing me out of the room by snapping a towel at my ass.
When I arrive back at the living room, I take in the scene from the doorway before entering; there is an emotion inside me swirling around at the sight of my friends laughing and joking that I’ve never felt before. Is this what being totally content feels like? I don’t just love my girlfriend; I love my friends too. I love the place I’m in—and I’m not just talking about the house I live in with Jack and Eliza.
“Babe, come sit.” Lilly pats the seat next to her, inviting me back to the couch to watch the movie we’ve all settled on; tomorrow night the four of us are going for dinner to celebrate Valentine’s Day.
Another first for me.
Also a first? Someone calling me babe.
It felt strange at the beginning and took some getting used to, but I’ve recently started calling her babe, too. Other nicknames Lilly has taken a shine to for me?
Sugar bottom
Hot lips
Sweetie
Honey buns
I think she’s made it her mission in life to use a new moniker each and every time she texts me, whereas I’ve stuck primarily to babe. I have enough going through my head; I don’t need to be making up new variations of an endearment every single morning.
My girlfriend loves that I’m awkward and make mistakes. Loves that I don’t seem to know what I’m doing but that I’m coachable and willing to try. She isn’t shy about telling me what she wants and needs from the relationship, and I’m glad for it; I’m no mind reader, and neither is she.
It’s something we both work on, though it hasn’t come easy. Every day is a work in progress, but I’m proud of us.
I take my seat beside her, handing Jack the Fritos. He takes the bowl and immediately plows his hand through the chips, choosing three and sticking them into his open mouth.
“Easy there.” Eliza laughs. “You’re acting like no one has fed you.”
“I’m always hungry. You know this.”
“We know,” the three of us chorus, because Jack is always hungry and has a history of eating all the food in the house, including leftovers that don’t belong to him.
It’s like we’re the Four Musketeers now, spending hours of free time together, on double dates and doing whatever. On the rare occasion we’ll even study in the library as a group. Not often, but sometimes.
“We don’t have these in England. It’s like Christmas every time I get a bag.”
“The grocery store is literally full of them,” Eliza deadpans, stealing a few chips. “If you want, I can start buying them for you.”
Jack shakes his head. “They don’t taste as good.”
He’s ridiculous.
Beside me, Lilly takes my arm and leans in, burrowing into me. “Am I spending the night tonight?” she whispers. “I have something for you.”
I raise my brows. “Oh?”
Turns out that ‘something’ is a sexy nerd outfit, complete with black horn-rimmed glasses with a piece of tape in the middle. She climbs up the bed wearing a skimpy button-down shirt with a pocket protector (with a pencil inside), a loose tie, and white boy shorts.
Her hair is in braids.
My dick twitches.
Real talk: my dick has been twitching since the day we met and hasn’t stopped tingling since, but there are worse things than a perpetual hard-on for one’s girlfriend.
“How do you like my outfit? Do I look like a nerdy engineering student?”
Is that what this is supposed to be? “You look sexy, babe.”
“And smart?”
“So smart.”
She kisses my lips when she’s done kissing her way up my body, fingers toying with the drawstring on my pajama bottoms.
“Why you bother with these, I do not know.” She’s playfully complaining as she pushes them off, down my hips, my heart already rapidly beating—it matches the heartbeat in my dick.
H
a!
“You don’t like my flannel cock?” I tease without censoring, the first time I’ve actually used dirty talk in bed.
Lilly’s eyes get wide. “Roman!” She laughs. “Listen to you, naughty boy.”
“Did you like that?” My question is hesitant. Unsure.
“Obviously I liked it.” She nuzzles my neck.
I exhale, hands running up and down her backside, palms cupping her ass.
She leans back, moving to straddle me, leaning down to look me in the eye. Her braids frame her face.
“Roman?”
My hands move back and forth. “Hmm?”
“I love you.” The words are barely a whisper and shy, as if she’s scared or worried I won’t repeat them back to her.
They take me by surprise, but I’m ready for them. “I love you, too.”
“You do?” Lilly is still whispering. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”
“No—we’ve been together over two months. I don’t think it’s too soon at all.”
“Good, because I think I loved you the second time we met.”
I pause. “That day in the kitchen when I dropped the box?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Really?” My hands never stop caressing her backside. “You know how much I love that award you made me.”
“I didn’t make it—I fixed it.”
“You made it better.” It reminds me of her, and I love looking at it there on my shelf. “I’m never getting rid of it.”
She moves in closer, kissing me on the mouth. It’s a tender kiss full of emotion.
“I’m never getting rid of you.”
Good. “Say that again, you sexy little nerd.”
“I’m never getting rid of you.”
“And I’m never getting rid of you.” Our tongues mingle.
“I love you, my romantic Romeo.”
We’re so mushy.
So gross.
But we’re finally where we need to be.
With each other.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances.
Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced lattes, historical architecture, and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.
Sign up for Sara’s Newsletter to find out about her book releases, and read real-life “Sara Dates A Douchebag” stories only found in her newsletter!
For more information about Sara Ney and her books, visit: https://authorsaraney.com
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Jock Reign
Jock Romeo
Trophy Boyfriends Series
Hard Pass
Hard Fall
Hard Love
Hard Luck
The Bachelors Club Series
Bachelor Society
Bachelor Boss
How to Date a Douchebag Series
The Studying Hours
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The Learning Hours
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Jock Hard Box Set: Books 1-3