Page 21 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

Head Over Cleats for you.

Blaine adjusted his shoulder pads and exhaled slowly, staring at the row of maroon lockers ahead of him.

The air was heavy with anticipation and the kind of raw electricity that only came before kickoff.

Tape snapped. Cleats thudded against concrete.

Players mumbled hype mantras like prayers to the turf gods.

“ Big night, Austin,” Cade grinned, slapping a palm against

Blaine ’ s back. “ You ready to put on a show?”

Blaine smirked as he laced the final strap on his cleats.

“ As long as we don ’ t fumble it in the first five minutes.

” Coach barked about tempo and special teams, but Blaine was already tuning him out.

Not out of disrespect—he just couldn ’ t hear much over the rush in his veins.

His mind wasn ’ t on the first play or the scoreboard.

It was on her. The moment the speakers cracked to life and “ Thunderstruck” by AC/DC ripped through the air, something inside him snapped into place.

That opening riff? It was a heartbeat. It was war drums. It was the world catching fire and daring him to charge headfirst into it.

The bass rumbled in his chest as his cleats clattered against the tunnel floor.

“ Now that ’ s how you kick off a damn game!” someone yelled.

The turf met his feet like a promise. The lights were too bright, the air too cold—but he didn ’ t care.

Because tonight, everything mattered. The ball, the play, the fans.

Her. By the end of the first quarter, Blaine was finding his rhythm.

A few good catches, clean blocks, and that sense of belonging humming under his skin like he ’ d never left the game.

Then, after jogging off the field from a hard-earned first down, something in the stands caught his eye .

He froze.

Linnie.

There she was—hair pulled back in a half ponytail, curls bouncing as she jumped with the squad, pom-poms flashing gold and black. But it wasn ’ t her moves that hit him like a linebacker. It was her shirt. Cropped, glittery, and bold.

AUSTIN across the shoulders.

15 stamped across the back.

His name. His number.

He blinked, just to be sure.

“ Ohhh snap, Romeo ’ s girl got custom merch!” someone howled from behind.

“ Bro,” Logan cackled, “ she might as well put a ring on it.”

Blaine ducked his head and grinned under his helmet. The flush in his ears had nothing to do with adrenaline. He knew he was supposed to be focused. Eyes on the defense. Hands ready for the snap. But the truth was, she lit something inside him. Like she always did.

By the third quarter, Missoula ’ s defense was getting scrappy, bodies flying like it was a grudge match. One of their linebackers went down hard with a twisted ankle.

“ We ’ re down a man,” Coach growled. “ Austin! You play both sides in high school?”

Blaine nodded. “ Yessir.”

“ You ’ re in. Cornerback. Don ’ t screw it up.”

He tugged his gloves tighter. The switch from offense to defense was sharp, but he knew the rhythm.

Knew how to watch the eyes, feel the field.

The next play unfurled like a dream. He tracked the quarterback, followed the wideout ’ s break, and when that ball soared, time slowed.

His body knew what to do before his brain could catch up.

He leapt.

Snatched it mid-air.

And ran like hell.

Pick six.

Touchdown.

The stadium erupted .

His name was being chanted before he ’ d even made it to the end zone.

Players swarmed him, smacking his helmet, screaming in his face.

But Blaine? He was already looking for her.

And when he found Linnie—hands to her mouth, eyes wide, smile breaking over her face like sunrise—he mouthed, That was for you.

Maybe the scoreboard didn ’ t matter. Maybe the points and the stats would blur in a few years. But this? Her pride in her eyes? That was something he ’ d never forget. Under the glare of the Friday night lights, with “ Thunderstruck” still echoing in his blood, Blaine Austin felt like a legend.

The locker room was wild—sweaty hugs, half-yelled war cries, helmets flying onto benches.

Blaine barely had time to breathe before they were herded back onto the bus and toward the hotel for a quick team dinner.

The banquet room was buzzing with leftover adrenaline.

Players swiped extra trays of pasta and chicken, voices hoarse from screaming.

Coaches gave the usual “ good job, now stay humble” speeches, but no one was listening.

Blaine, wedged between Chase and Logan at a round table near the back, kept catching himself glancing across the room. No Linnie yet. He checked his phone.

Linnie: Be at the pool in 15. Just trust me.

His heart thumped, but he played it cool, draining his Gatorade like it was whiskey. After dinner, he headed back to his room to throw on swim trunks. Bria had texted “ tell Linnie I said hi and don ’ t be weird.” Thanks, kid.

By the time he stepped into the humid night air, the pool area was already packed with teammates, music playing low from someone ’ s speaker.

Towels were draped over chairs, a few cannonballs echoed, and hotel lights shimmered across the water.

Then she walked out. Blaine ’ s jaw may have dropped a little.

Linnie, striding through the crowd with Sadie and Cleo flanking her, absolutely glowing in a custom Denver Broncos–themed bikini.

Navy and orange. Subtle glitter. Her long curls were pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she was wearing the cheekiest smile he ’ d ever seen.

Across the top in tight white stitching?

“ Austin” And down the side of her bottoms? #15

“ Bro,” Chase whispered from behind him, “ she wore the whole damn fantasy team fit just for you.”

Blaine blinked as she walked straight over to him.

“ You good?” Linnie grinned.

He ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “ I think you just gave me a heart attack.” She laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the water. “ You won the game, Austin Now we celebrate.”

They didn ’ t leave each other ’ s side for the next hour. Floating in the water, hands brushing under the surface, whispered jokes under the stars. Someone brought out cupcakes. Someone else tried to throw Chase into the deep end fully clothed.

Eventually, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “ I ’ m so proud of you.

” He didn ’ t even realize he was holding his breath until he let it out.

“ I ’ ve never had anyone say that to me before.

” She kissed his cheek, slow and warm. “ Well, get used to it.” His heart?

Wrecked in the best way. The pool lights glowed behind them, casting shimmers across the patio, but Blaine wasn ’ t paying attention to anything except the way Linnie ’ s fingers had slowly laced through his.

She leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“ Wanna sneak out?” she whispered, a grin playing on her lips.

He didn ’ t even answer. Just gave her hand a light squeeze and followed.

They slipped through the lobby like ghosts, quiet footsteps on the tile floor, Blaine ’ s free hand tugging at the strings of the room key tucked into his swim trunks.

Once the elevator doors slid shut behind them, she looked up at him with a smirk.

“ You're really bad at hiding how flustered you get around me.” “ And you ’ re not making it any easier,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching.

The second the door closed behind them, it was like the switch flipped.

Their mouths crashed together, raw and hungry.

The soft thud of her bag hitting the floor echoed against the walls.

He backed her into the bedpost, hands roaming like he couldn't get enough, like he was making up for lost time.

Her laugh broke the kiss, breathless, eyes wide.

“ I thought you were shy,” she teased.

“ I am,” he said, voice low, “ but when it comes to you... I don ’ t want to hold back.”

Her swimsuit slipped to the floor piece by piece, his fingers trembling but sure. She guided him toward the bathroom, steam already beginning to rise as she turned on the shower.

Under the hot water, it was hands and mouths and tangled limbs.

Kisses deeper than either of them expected.

Touches soft and reverent and then desperately needing.

The steam fogged the glass, and every movement felt like slow-burning fire.

The warm water cascaded over their skin, soft and steamy, fogging the mirror and filling the bathroom with a cocoon of heat.

Blaine backed into the shower first, his eyes locked with Linnie ’ s as she followed, her damp curls clinging to her shoulders, that playful smirk still tugging at her lips.

He couldn ’ t look away—couldn ’ t stop staring at the way the droplets slid over her collarbone, how confident and soft she looked at the same time.

She moved closer, placing her hands on his chest, fingertips tracing along the edge of his ribs, feeling his heartbeat kick up under her touch. Blaine ’ s hands found her waist, gripping gently, thumbs brushing the curve of her hips.

“ You okay?” she whispered, her voice low but teasing.

He nodded, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. “ More than okay.”

Their lips met again, slower this time. The kiss was deep, exploring, almost reverent.

Blaine ’ s hands roamed up her back, slick and warm, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Her fingers slid through his soaked hair, tugging slightly as she kissed down his jaw, across his neck, making his breath catch.

She kissed him slowly, and the nerves melted away.

Every move they made was soaked in tension, in emotion, in something neither of them could put into words.

Blaine ’ s fingers slid along her sides, up to her jaw, pulling her in like she was the only real thing in the world.

Her back hit the tile wall with a soft sound, and she welcomed it, curling her leg around his waist.

“ Linnie,” he whispered against her lips, voice low, cracked and unsure. “ I want this,” she told him, looking him right in the eye. “ With you. Only you.”

Their bodies met like puzzle pieces finally falling into place.

It was new, overwhelming, and full of unspoken promises.

His hands gripped her thighs as she pulled him closer, and time seemed to vanish around them.

Every breath, every look, every quiet gasp was burned into memory.

And in that moment—in the heat, the closeness, the quiet vulnerability—Blaine gave himself over to something he ’ d never felt before.

It wasn ’ t just physical. It was emotional.

Transformative. Sacred.

Their movements became slower, deeper—not just about lust but about trust and connection. The water muffled everything except their quiet moans and the sound of heartbeats crashing together. Every touch was purposeful, every kiss like a promise.

Afterward, they stood wrapped in each other under the falling water, her fingers tracing the curve of his spine, his lips pressed to her shoulder.

“ You okay?” she asked softly.

He nodded, completely unraveled and completely at peace. “ I didn ’ t know it could feel like that.”

She smiled, pulling him close again. “ That ’ s because it was real.”

Linnie couldn ’ t stop looking at him.

They had stepped out of the shower, skin still warm and flushed, water droplets catching on her collarbone and slipping down her curves.

A towel hung low around his hips, but even that felt like too much space between them.

His pulse hadn ’ t settled—his heart beat wildly, not just from what had just happened, but from how much he still wanted her. How much he needed her.

Linnie stood by the sink, brushing fingers through her damp curls, wearing nothing but one of his old T-shirts that barely skimmed her thighs. When she looked up and caught his reflection in the mirror, the corner of her mouth lifted like she already knew what he was thinking.

“ You good?” she asked softly, the teasing in her voice subtle.

Blaine crossed the small space between them in three strides. “ I can ’ t stop thinking about you,” he said, voice rough, low, “ About that. About… all of it.”

Her fingers slid along his jaw as he leaned in, his hands anchoring at her waist, drawing her close. Her eyes searched his like she was trying to read every thought he wasn ’ t saying aloud. But he didn ’ t need to say much more—his hands did the talking, his lips picking up where words left off.

They tumbled back toward the bed, their laughter low and breathy between kisses.

There was no hesitation in Blaine now—just raw longing, curiosity, and a rush of feeling that made him dizzy in the best way.

He kissed her like he had all night to learn every part of her.

He didn ’ t rush. He didn ’ t fumble. He was focused, tender, hungry.

This time was different—it wasn ’ t about nerves or firsts.

It was about needing to be closer, to chase the high of what they ’ d just shared.

Wrapped up in each other, tangled in sheets and soft whispers, it wasn ’ t long before the room felt like its own little universe again.

Just them. Heartbeats syncing. Bodies moving in rhythm.

Breathless. Shameless.

And when they finally collapsed again, spent and smiling, Blaine buried his face in the crook of her neck and whispered, “ I don ’ t think I ’ ll ever get enough of you.

” Linnie ran her fingers through his hair, pulled him closer, and replied with a sleepy grin, “ Good. Because I ’ m not going anywhere. ”