Spite Crush (Rock Hard #2)

Epilogue Two

~Kellen~

Three Years Later…

“Are you coming to the bar with us tonight?” Zak asked, his voice muffled as he pulled a t-shirt over his head.

“I can’t,” I reminded him. “I’m going to see that band, Ominous, with Rye tonight. He really wants to sign them but wants me to see them perform first.”

“Shit. Sorry I forgot,” he said. “We’ve spent so many nights celebrating I honestly don’t know what day it is.”

“Well, you should celebrate,” I told him. “You won a national championship.”

“Two weeks ago,” he said, chuckling. “These Portland boys can party. And it’s not even the first cup for most of them.”

“That’s not what they’re celebrating, and you know it,” I said.

At the beginning of the season, when Zak had told me he was going to retire, I hadn’t believed him. And when he proceeded to have the best season of his career, I was sure he would change his mind. But then they’d won the championship and he was adamant that he wanted to go out on top of the world.

“Ah, so they’re celebrating me leaving?” He laughed as he reached for me, pulling me into his chest and kissing me gently. “And I’m celebrating the fact that I’ll finally get to be a house husband.”

“Husband?”

“Yeah.” He slid down my body to kneel in front of me. “Marry me. ”

“You’d better not be fucking with me right now,” I warned him, tears pricking my eyes as I stared down at him.

“I couldn’t be any more serious,” he assured me. “Say yes.”

“Ask a question,” I insisted.

“Kellen Fox, will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

He jumped to his feet and kissed me again, this one deeper and longer, his tongue sliding against mine as his erection grew hard against me .

“Take off your shirt,” he growled.

“Why?”

“I want to come on your thirteen before I leave,” he said, his fingers already tugging at the hem of my shirt. “Since I didn’t get you a ring, you have to wear something.”

“It’s a tattoo, not a target,” I reminded him, but I raised my arms so he could pull my shirt off. “You’re going to make me go out with Rye covered in your cum?”

“You’re the one who had to get my number tattooed on your chest,” he reminded me, shoving me backward onto the bed. “What did you think was going to happen?”

Pretty much exactly what happened twice a week since it had healed. I was so fucking grateful to the Panthers for letting Zak keep his number.

“Well, you’re the one that got my name tattooed around Sally, Gerard and Toby,” I reminded him. “What if the gun had slipped and ruined them?”

“You’re seriously still pretending to be angry about that?” he asked. “ You’re weird little freckle fetish is still intact, safe and sound.”

“You’re calling my kink weird?” I asked pointedly as he unbuttoned his jeans.

“Yeah,” he said, freeing his erection and stepping closer to me.

“I fucking love you so much,” I told him, watching his hand move swiftly over his shaft.

“I love you, too,” he promised me. “Now hold still.”

Read Rye and Austin’s story, Whiskey & Rye