Her hands run over my face, my shoulders, my arms, and my back. Her moaning grows louder and more frenzied as she reaches around to grab my arse. She pulls me tight against her, holding me inside her as she tenses. I hold my breath and watch in wonder as her orgasm detonates through her entire body, vibrating in her chest, then her stomach, through her thighs, and finally clamping down on my cock inside of her.
I feel it all. Her orgasm. Her desire. Her passion. Her love.
When her eyes open and look up at me, I can see it all. Our future. Our plans. Our family. Our life.
Once her climax descends and her body relaxes, she lifts her head and grabs my face to kiss me. Her tongue dives hot and wet into my mouth, and it’s all the touch I need to fall over the edge as well.
Our mouths break apart, but I’m still inside of her, pulsing and groaning as I empty everything I have into my wife.
My life.
My Indie.
Four
Cocky Homecoming
Camden
We’re back in London just in time for the weekly Harris Sunday dinner. Indie and I can’t stop smiling the entire drive out to Dad’s house. As far as weddings go, there is no way any couple in the whole world could have enjoyed themselves more than we did in Scotland.
When we walk in through the kitchen, I see my family out back in the garden. Tanner, Booker, and Gareth are doting over our niece, Rocky, who’s playing with a football in the grass while Booker’s pregnant girlfriend, Poppy, sits at the nearby picnic table with Dad, Belle, Vi, and Vi’s fiancé, Hayden. Everyone is here. Everyone is always here. Harris Sunday dinners are sacred. They are the one constant we all have regardless of how busy we are or how much our family is changing. And seeing the huge changes that have been happening as of late, I’m certain that our news won’t be that big of a surprise.
Vi sees us come out back and gives us a jovial wave. “Hiya, guys.”
Everyone looks at us expectantly, as if they instinctually know we have something to share.
“You’re pregnant,” Tanner bellows, shaking his head knowingly.
“I’m not pregnant,” I reply, rolling my eyes at him.
He rolls his eyes right back at me. “I mean Indie’s pregnant.”
“She’s not pregnant,” I retort, quietly adding, “Yet.”
“What?” Vi asks, her brows furrowed in confusion.
I inhale a deep breath. “Well, first comes love…Then comes marriage.”
“You got married?” Vi squeals, shooting up from the table.
I nod. “We eloped this weekend. I’d like to introduce you all to the new Mrs. Indie Harris.”
My family erupts into cheers and they all rush over and sweep us into one big hug. Even my brother Gareth, who has been a moody sod for months now, seems genuinely happy for us. I look around and wonder why Tanner hasn’t lifted me over his shoulders like the mental patient he is. It’s then that I see him standing on the outside of our hug, his arms crossed over his chest with a pouty scowl on his face.
Booker rolls his eyes and attempts to yank Tanner into the group, but Tanner resists. I move past Indie, but Tanner turns his back on me when he sees me approaching and loudly says, “Booker, would you tell Camden that I’m not speaking to him?”
Booker frowns at me and replies, “He’s standing right here and can clearly hear you, so no, I’m not telling him that.”
Tanner narrows his eyes at our youngest brother and shoves him hard in the shoulder. He re-crosses his arms and juts his chin up into the air. “Would you tell him that he had a lot of nerve getting engaged without telling me first, but to go off and get married without me by his side is total bollocks and completely unforgivable.”
Tanner’s voice breaks on the last word, and I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from bursting into laughter. Indie winces at his reaction, but I place a reassuring hand on her arms to soothe her.
“Tanner, come on now. It was an important decision for us.” I move to grab his shoulder, but he recoils away from me.
“Tell my former twin brother that I won’t speak to him for the rest of my life.” Tanner’s voice wobbles as he crosses his arms and turns his back on me again.
“Tanner!” I shout his name in frustration. “We had our reasons.”
“I don’t care!” he bellows and Belle strides over shaking her head at him.
She hits him with a dark, warning stare. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Wife!” Tanner exclaims, dropping his arms and stomping his foot like a petulant child. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“No,” she retorts. “You’re being obnoxious. Our best friends just got married. We should be happy for them or at least fake it until our egos recover.”
With a heavy sigh, Tanner turns and looks at me, shaking his head gloomily. I move in and wrap my arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tight to me. “I only married Indie so quickly because now we can have our babies together, bro.”
His eyes fly wide. “What?” he exclaims. “What are you talking about?”
“Ask Belle what she and Indie have planned for our futures and tell me it doesn’t sound brilliant. We can start our families together, Tan.”
Tanner looks at Belle with childlike excitement spread all over his face. “Our kids can be best mates and learn how to play with balls together like we did!”
I nod knowingly. “And play football together.”
“This changes everything!” Tanner bellows, clapping his hands together in anticipation.
Belle shakes her head. “You are aware that medically there’s a high probability that Indie and I won’t conceive in the exact same month. Who knows what our fertility cycles are like. Not to mention, I’m a bit older than Indie, so my egg quality is slightly lower.”
“Oh, Wife,” Tanner cuts her off with a hearty slap on her arse. “Would you stop being a doctor for one minute and just dream with us?”
“Yeah,” I add, pulling my bride under my arm. “Besides, Harris Brothers have super sperm. If we will them, they will come.”
Tanner hoots with laughter and high-fives me. “Classic pun, bro!”
“And not at all cocky,” Indie says with a great big smile meant just for me.
The End
Check out Camden and Indie’s full-length story: Challenge
And sign up for my newsletter to be notified of my latest book news.
www.AmyDawsAuthor.com
About the Author
Amy Daws is an Amazon Top 25 bestselling author of sexy contemporary romance that take place in America and across the pond. She’s most known for her footy-playing Harris Brothers and writing the majority of her words in a tire shop waiting room. For more of Amy's work, visit:
http://www.amydawsauthor.com
Facebook
Instagram
Twitter
Book + Main
Also by Amy Daws
The Harris Brothers Series:
British Sports Romance
Challenge: Camden’s Story
Endurance: Tanner’s Story
Keeper: Booker’s Story
Surrender & Dominate: Gareth’s Duet, Coming Soon
* * *
Wait With Me: Romantic Comedy Standalone
* * *
The London Lovers Series:
Becoming Us: Finley’s Story Part 1
A Broken Us: Finley’s Story Part 2
London Bound: Leslie’s Story
Not The One: Reyna’s Story
That One Moment: Hayden & Vi’s Story
One Wild Night: Julie’s Story, Coming Soon
* * *
Pointe of Breaking
Chasing Hope
For all retailer purchase links, visit:
www.amydawsauthor.com
Landmines
Mariah Dietz
A short story featuring Ace and Max from the His Series.
* * *
This is raw, original material written just for
this anthology. Due to constraints and the immediacy of the timeline, this story has not been edited.
Copyright © 2018 by Mariah Dietz
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Landmines
There are certain obsessions best left alone. After having lived in Alaska for the past couple of years, I should know this better than most. I had chased my obsession with tracking down my father who’d up and left my two older brothers, mom, and me when I was nine, only to learn that being a commercial fisherman is comparable to the seventh circle of hell, and that my Southwestern roots didn’t prepare me for the often cold and rainy months up north.
I’ve been back home to Southern California for six weeks, but it only took the first minute for my neighbor Ace Bosse, to take full residency in my thoughts. I knew my curiosity and interest in her was a stone best left unturned. After all, I’m living with my mom for the summer, and I didn’t come alone. Landon and Jameson—two of my best friends who I met while living in Alaska—followed me down to The Golden State. I’d wanted to get a place of our own in San Diego, near campus where I’m enrolled to begin my junior year of college. My comfort level for digressing and going from independent-living to sleeping in my childhood bedroom was less than enticing, but when my uncle said he had a rental we could use for half the price and twice the size of anything we could find, I swallowed my pride and we moved in with my mom who also happens to be best friends with Ace’s mom, Muriel.
That’s just one of the many landmines presented when it comes to my blonde-haired, brown-eyed neighbor. The first issue—maybe what should be considered the biggest issue—is that she has a boyfriend. I loathed the guy before I knew of his existence, and then even more once I met the ass-wipe. He’s a douche dressed in khakis and polo shirts.
“I’d tell you that I’m sorry I can’t go with you today, but that would be a lie,” Jameson says as he slides on a pair of flip-flops.
I place my cereal bowl in the dishwasher so my hands are free to flip him off. Jameson laughs.
“It was fate,” he continues. “I told you I’d never go on a commercial fishing boat or a building site again. Done. Finito. And apparently, college agrees with me, because they said today was the last day to go sign things. But … I’m sure you’re going to be a valuable asset to the team.” He pats my shoulder just to lay insult to injury.
“You’ve known you had to go in for weeks, you lazy bastard. This was just a convenient excuse.”
He grins. “How long is your shift?”
“Eight hours.”
Jameson winces. The weather has been hot and dry, two norms for summers here, but it doesn’t make going out in the required jeans and long-sleeved shirt any more appealing. “The good news is you’re definitely going to be scoring some brownie points. I mean, you’re volunteering to help build a house for a family in need. Mention what you’re doing when you see Ace. This is the kind of stuff that melts panties.”
I can’t help but chuckle. Jameson talks like he’s a player, but he’s not. Not even remotely. And he has set his sights on Ace’s older sister Kendall. “If it’s such a panty-melter, why aren’t you coming out this afternoon?”
“Believe me, I was considering it. I almost called my counselor and told him I had the flu, but then I opted to forego using manual labor to impress Kendall and ordered her flowers.”
“Nice. So, material shit in place of selflessness. I dig it.”
He frowns. “Don’t give me a guilt trip.”
“That wasn’t a guilt trip. Did it sound like a guilt trip?”
It was a total guilt trip.
“I’m going to finalize everything so I’m able to attend college in the fall, so I can get my degree and contribute to society.”
“You’ve got to stop quoting the brochures,” I tell him. “You sound like a putz.”
Jameson laughs. “I actually liked that one. It has an edge of sincerity to it. But really, you need to mention this to Ace.”
“So she can give me a high five?” My tone is sarcastic, bordering on annoyed. He’s been working to convince me of spending more time with my neighbor. Since I’m already warring with myself over the same desire, I don’t need his added influence.
“I’m telling you, man, she’s interested in you.”
“If she were, she wouldn’t still be dating that clown.” I have to tell him this again, because I need to hear the words myself.
“Trust me. Just, trust me.”
I shake my head. “You say that like you know something.”
“Maybe I do.”
I stare at him. Jameson is one of the most loyal and trustworthy people I’ve ever known. He very well might know something, then again, he’s also overtly confident about some of the most ridiculous things. He proved this time and time again while we worked on a commercial fishing vessel together—never learning when to stop challenging some of the senior crew members to dares and bets and card games that often left him nursing a hangover.
“I have to get going, or I’m going to be late.”
“Have fun. And if I see Ace, I’ll do you a solid and mention what you’re doing so you don’t risk sounding like a cocky asshole.” He grins. “You do that well enough on your own.”
“You’re such a dick.” I grab my metal water bottle and head outside to my Jeep. I’m not sure how exactly I got involved in this project. Ace’s mom, Muriel, is on the board and had mentioned it while she and my mom were asking me questions one afternoon about what sort of construction Jameson and I had done while living in Alaska. I’m not sure if I volunteered willingly or they coerced me into signing up, but a few days later, my mom had a schedule that Muriel had dropped by.
Initially, I dreaded the idea of participating in building a house. Like Jameson, I’d been anxious to have a summer off—even if it meant living with my mom. But in California, the homeless population is shockingly apparent. The nice weather and high cost of living create a dangerous concoction that leaves too many on the streets. The construction we’d done in Alaska was elaborate and extravagant—vacation homes for the wealthy. It seemed almost right to use the knowledge I’d earned there to give back to those who really needed it. Now, I’m actually anxious about getting outside and doing something familiar that will help others.
The drive to the build site isn’t long enough for me to block out Jameson’s suggestion to tell Ace about this. After spending most of my life not caring what others think of me, I’ve begun caring entirely too much about what she thinks of me. I want to impress her. I want her to imagine wrapping her legs around my waist half as often as I think of it.
I want her to break up with her damn boyfriend.
I have to park a block down from the build site because dumpsters and cars are lining the sidewalks around the beginning construction. I grab my leather builder gloves and tool belt, and head toward the skeleton of the house. They’ve already laid the foundation and done much of the framing. I look over the initial construction, noting details they’ve done well, and others that could use improvement.
“You here to volunteer?” I turn and face a man with a large beer gut, covered in a plaid shirt. He’s wearing an orange hard hat and is holding a clipboard. His nails are too clean, his hands free of blisters and cuts. I’m guessing he’s on the board with Muriel, because he’s certainly not here for construction.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m Max Miller.”
The man peruses his list, searching for my name. When his pencil stops over it, his face lights with a smile. “I see you have experience in construction.”
Again, I nod.
“Great. Let’s get you a hard hat, and get you started…”
His words fade as I see her.
Ace is standing in front of a large mi
ter saw, intently listening to a man give her a brief summary of the power tool. Her rounded eyes make it apparent she’s intimidated by whatever task they’ve assigned her, but she works to hide that as she nods and smiles at her instructor.
“…we’re finishing with the framing today and tomorrow, and then we’ll start installing the windows and doors.” The man beside me continues.
“How many volunteers do you have? I ask, interrupting him.
The man frowns. “It varies. This week has been so hot, less are coming out. Plus, it’s summer. We have many more volunteers during the school year when kids are trying to pad their college applications. Companies also seem to remind their employees to volunteer around the holidays, so it’s a bit scarce today.” He wipes a bead of sweat that falls from his temple. “You ready for a quick tour?” He takes several steps forward.
I take another look at Ace, finding her watching as the instructor uses the miter saw in demonstration.
This is going to be a disaster. There’s no way I’m going to be able to focus on anything with her here, especially not when they’ve tasked her with a power tool that could easily cause so much damage to her.
“Do the volunteers need to have experience with some of these tools before they use them?” I ask, still not moving.
He shrugs. “It’s best if they do, but many who have experience want to be compensated if they’re going to be doing this kind of work. You’re what my wife would call a unicorn. We try and do the best with prepping all volunteers, and everyone signs release forms, so we…”
Cocktales Page 19