Endurance

by Amy Daws

  Her enthusiasm tonight is because of a set of twins they separated inside the womb earlier today. She tells me how hands-on she got to be during the surgery, and how Dr. Miller is finally starting to trust her more. It blows my mind that she spent her day inside a woman’s pregnant stomach, saving babies who weigh no more than a pound each. Most people sit in front of computers at a dull office. She touches the untouchable. She plays God.

  The passion she has for her job radiates off of her and it makes me miss my own. Being a career athlete is incredible but it’s hard at times, too. The physical and mental stress is exhausting. You’re not just paid to play football. You’re paid to win. And your fans feel like they own a piece of you. Your victory is their victory. Your loss is their loss. When you don’t perform up to their standards, they turn on you rather quickly.

  However, when you’re on top of your game—when the crowd chants your name and their cheers are for you and you alone—it’s the stuff gods are made of.

  “All right then,” Belle states, interrupting my thoughts and propping a bare foot on the dashboard. “I shared some Deep Talk, now it’s your turn.” She breaks the shell off a pistachio nut and hands it to me. “Are you worried that watching the match tomorrow will be hard?”

  I frown at her and pop the nut into my mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. “Why would you think it’d be hard?”

  Her brows lift. “I imagine you’re itching to get back on the pitch. Seeing your two brothers play on their dream teams while you’re stuck with me sounds a bit brutal.”

  I think about that for a minute. I’d love to play again but, for some reason, I don’t feel ready. As hard as this break I’ve had has been, it feels like it came at a good time. Maybe some time away from the pitch is exactly what I needed to get myself sorted.

  “First of all, now that I can be stuck inside of you, this fake dating isn’t so bad.” I shoot her a lewd smirk.

  “Oh, aren’t you such a romantic.” She winks and hands me another nut.

  “Second of all, watching my brothers play tomorrow will be a bit of a luxury that I don’t get to partake in much. Our football schedules are always conflicting, so I’m excited to be able to just sit and cheer for them.”

  “Won’t it be hard seeing Camden on another team, though? You guys have played closely together for so long.”

  A tenseness forms in my shoulders, but I shake it away and reply through clenched teeth, “Harris family support is unwavering.”

  I can feel her watching me as she pries, “But surely things have changed since he started playing for Arsenal?”

  “They have,” I reply, feeling an annoying prickle on the back of my neck. “But I don’t think it will matter in the long run. My siblings are top priority…always.”

  “But what about when they all start their own families? Your sister is having a baby. Camden and Indie are all over each other. I mean, everyone’s kind of moving on, right? Even though in the end, we all end up alone.”

  Her last words are murmured to the window and they shock me more than anything else she said. “You save families from despair every day. Surely you’re not that cynical.”

  “I save them from medical circumstances,” she corrects. “I have no idea what their lives are like when they go home.”

  “Well, I don’t go a day without speaking to one of my siblings. My dad has managed my entire career. Vi supports everything we do. We’re thick as thieves. We may be one tent away from a full-blown circus, but we’re woven into each other’s everyday decisions and I don’t see that ever changing.”

  I see her brow furrow in the dark as she mulls over what I’ve just said like she’s warring with something. Belle’s eyes are so expressive, you’d have to be blind not to notice.

  “What are you thinking about?” I push and her gaze snaps over at me like she forgot I was there.

  “Nothing.” She smiles but it looks odd. “I think we’ve had enough Deep Talk. Let’s do something fun.” She sets the bag of pistachios on the dashboard.

  “Did you have something in mind?”

  She shoots me a sly, secretive smile. “I was thinking more along the lines of deep throat.”

  My eyes swerve to her and she’s tweaking her brows at me, her gaze dropping down to my trousers. When she sucks her lower lip into her mouth and her teeth bite down on the spongy flesh, I forget all about what we were talking about. Truthfully, I think I forget my own name.

  “You better not be giving me that look unless you intend to put it to action,” I warn.

  Her smile grows. “What kind of action specifically?”

  My hips pulse with need and I take a cleansing breath when my dick presses against my zipper. “The kind that involves very different nuts.”

  She giggles and leans across the seat to whisper in my ear, “Good, I’m still hungry.”

  She reaches out and takes my hand in hers, bringing it up to her mouth for a chaste kiss before pulling my pointer finger between her lips. She sucks hard and bites down softly. I have to mentally scream at myself to keep my eyes on the road.

  Her voice is the epitome of sexy when she utters, “You taste good to me, Harris.” She releases my hand and reaches over to palm my denim clad groin. Her fingers tighten around the shape of my erection stamped through my trousers, like a snake under a blanket. She lets out a breathy moan as she firmly strokes me. “You feel good, too.”

  I drop my head back on the headrest and focus my eyes on the road. “For fuck’s sake, Ryan.”

  “Call me Belle when I’m sucking you off,” she demands.

  I nod without looking at her. I’ll call her whatever she bloody well wants me to call her right now.

  She undoes the button of my jeans, then slides my zipper down. The erotic noise in the car is deafening.

  “The first time I saw your cock when I picked you up in my car,” she says, working to pull me free, “I wanted to suck you off.”

  I moan when air touches my crown. “You did? I thought you wanted to kill me.”

  Her hand wraps tightly around my shaft. “I did. But not before I tasted you.” Her head drops to my lap.

  Warmth.

  Warm, heated, wet-sucking perfection encases my hard-on. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. My vision clouds for a second before I shake my head and watch the road more carefully.

  She pulls her mouth off of me while her hand works me up and down. “Maybe I’m like a praying mantis,” she murmurs, watching her action on my dick. “Maybe I wanted to fuck you before I killed you.”

  As she drops her mouth down on me again, I let out a nervous laugh. “God, you’re crazy.”

  She sucks hard for a minute and releases, stroking the slippery skin with her hand. “You like crazy.”

  My brows lift as I reach down and grip her hair in my hand, riding the motions of her head bobbing on my cock. “Yes, I fucking do.”

  She pauses, the cool breath of her voice teasing my sanity. “But did you know that not all female mantises bite the heads off their mates? There are studies that show some of them let their lovers live.”

  She drops down and swirls her tongue around the pre-come I can feel beading out, lapping at it like it’s her last meal. Her lips wrap tighter around me this time as she deep throats me over and over and over. My dick hits the back of her throat, bringing me right to the edge. Right to the brink. Right to the—

  “Belle, I’m going to come.”

  “Good,” she growls. “I have you right where I want you.”

  She sucks so hard I lose all control and topple over the edge in a painful, aching orgasm. Her hands are splayed out on my thighs and she continues sucking, swallowing every drop of me down her throat.

  When I’m finished, she lets go of me. Her cheeks are red as she wipes the bottom of her lip with her hand.

  I fight to catch my breath. The car suddenly too warm. The air suddenly too moist. The urge I have to pull over and fuck her until neither of us can see straight is so s
trong, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist. I grab her by the jaw and pull her lips to mine for a quick, chaste kiss of thanks. With my hungry eyes back on the road, I murmur, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  Despite my little joyride on Tanner, we make good time. Gareth’s house is in Astbury—a village right outside of Manchester—and when we drive down his long, private gravel lane, it feels a bit like coming home.

  However, when his detached house finally comes into view, I’m pleased to see it’s much more contemporary than what I grew up in. I don’t think I could stand walking into another dusty, old, Victorian mansion.

  Tanner grabs our bags and we walk up the steps toward the front porch. I see some movement through the large plate glass windows surrounding the oak door before it opens.

  “Tanner!” Gareth’s deep voice exclaims as he steps out onto the brick porch. He looks a bit dishevelled. His dark hair is unruly on top of his head, and his hazel eyes dart between Tanner and whatever is behind him inside the house. He looks as if he didn’t know we were coming. His voice is tight when he adds, “Surprised to see you tonight.”

  I frown up at Tanner. “Didn’t you tell him you decided to come early?”

  Tanner shrugs at me. “Didn’t occur to me.”

  I look at Gareth, ready to voice my apologies, but a woman steps out into the doorway behind him. She’s simply dressed in all black, and her chestnut hair is tied back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

  “It’s fine. We’re all done here.” Her American accent is smooth and confident as she throws a garment bag over her shoulder.

  “Who’s this?” Tanner leers, a look of shock and curiosity on his face.

  “This is no one,” Gareth snaps. “I mean, she’s someone, but…Sloan is my personal shopper.”

  “Personal shopper?” Tanner’s voice is unconvinced.

  “I prefer celebrity fashion stylist,” Sloan states, her voice crisp and unforgiving as she moves past us. I watch Gareth’s eyes drink her in with a pained look on his face. “And I really need to be going. I only did this late call as a favour. Good luck at your event tomorrow, Mr. Harris.”

  Without a glance back, Sloan strides down the drive toward her car parked in front of the garage. I frown when I see her ponytail is mussed into a bit of a nest down her back.

  “Who the fuck was that really?” Tanner asks, placing a hand on Gareth’s shoulder. “Cam and I thought you were fucking celibate!”

  Gareth shakes him off. “Don’t be daft. She’s no one.” He looks at me. “I’m sorry you’re saddled up with my twat of a brother. Vi’s told me the particulars of what you guys are going through and, knowing Tanner here, I’m sure you’re about ready to kill someone. I’m Gareth. It’s nice to meet you, officially. Cam and Indie speak very highly of you.”

  He reaches out and shakes my hand. I see a tiny bit of resemblance between him and Tanner in the shape of their eyes, but that’s where the similarities end. Gareth is more the tall, dark, and handsome variety, whereas Tanner is more the dirty, blonde, and sexy category. However, they both tower over me and ooze that athletic sort of posture. The kind that makes walking through a foyer look artful.

  We follow Gareth through the living room and into a bright, modern kitchen where he grabs us both a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Sorry, no booze in the house. I don’t drink during the season.”

  I roll the bottle in my hands. “It’s no problem.”

  Tanner throws a lazy arm around my shoulders. “Yeah, this one got rat-arsed the other night and is probably still feeling the effects.”

  I scoff, “I am not. And would you kindly shut the fuck up?”

  Gareth booms with a deep laugh. “Yes! Finally! A woman not afraid to put you in your place.”

  Tanner’s eyes narrow as he prepares to take a sip. “I put her in places, too.”

  My jaw drops. “You better watch it, or the only place you’ll end up tonight is a cold shower.”

  This silences him and Gareth’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

  “So why did you guys come down tonight? I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow?”

  Tanner gives me a random cheeky arse squeeze and says, “I just needed to get the fuck out of London. It feels like a bloody fishbowl lately.”

  I nod feeling similarly. I didn’t even have the heart to tell Tanner that our little snog outside his flat before we left was photographed. “The vultures are everywhere.”

  Gareth shakes his head. “I don’t envy you guys. That’s why I like it out here. It’s private. It’s quiet. The London nightlife is not for me. Manchester is bad enough at times.”

  “I’m beginning to see the appeal.” Tanner looks around the kitchen as if considering it from a different perspective.

  “Well, I hate to rush off but I need sleep. Match day tomorrow and all.” He turns to Tanner. “All the guestrooms are ready so take whichever you’d like. I’ll be heading in early, so I probably won’t see you until after the match. We can grab a quick drink, but then I have an event I need to attend.”

  “No problem. I think Cam was hoping to catch up with us.”

  He half smiles. “Yes, Camden.” A look of amazement casts over his features and he shakes his head. “I still can’t get over the fact that I’ll be defending him tomorrow. It’s been years since we’ve played on the same pitch.”

  “I didn’t realise you ever played for Bethnal Green,” I state.

  “Yeah, for two years and then I got a Man U offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “Wouldn’t refuse is more like it,” Tanner adds. “You were desperate to get away from Dad.”

  “I wouldn’t say desperate.” Gareth shifts on his feet.

  “I would. And not very wise considering you signed with his old team.”

  A dark look crosses Gareth’s face. “I had my reasons.”

  Tanner holds his hands back in surrender. “I’m not saying you didn’t. It’s just got to be weird living in his shadow at Man U. Seems like every time you’re interviewed after a match, they bring up his glory days.”

  Gareth scoffs, “The media are looking for a story. Something to sensationalise and make viral. Hopefully tomorrow you two are the focus instead of me.”

  I roll my eyes. “Looking forward to it!”

  Gareth smiles. “Well, you’re a trooper for doing this. Tanner is going to owe you a major favour when this is all over.”

  “Oh yes,” I reply with a smirk. “Tanner will pay me back for many things.”

  Tanner’s tone is warning when he says, “Belle, your crazy is showing.”

  “That’s because I want it to,” I whisper and wink.

  Gareth chuckles. “I’ve never seen Tanner squirm like this. You’re bloody perfect for him.”

  His comment knocks me down a peg. “That’s what we’re trying to make everyone believe.”

  When Gareth leaves, Tanner takes me upstairs to the guestroom farthest from Gareth’s room. He’s about as subtle as a flying brick. It’s a huge, lush room with a gorgeous bed and en-suite bath. It immediately makes me glad we came down tonight instead of tomorrow. The bed looks like heaven and it’s been ages since I’ve had a good night’s sleep.

  “Did you pack your bathing suit?” Tanner asks, setting my suitcase on the dresser and opening it up.

  “Yes.” I stride over and attempt to shoo him away from my personal effects. “Get out of my stuff.”

  “Never,” he replies, grabbing a pair of my knickers and tucking them into his pocket.

  “God, you’re mental.”

  “Put your suit on.” Tanner winks and disappears into the loo.

  By the time he comes out, I’m already covered up with a cotton sundress. Tanner holds my hand as he walks us down the stairs and to the other wing of the house. After passing through an impressive media room and a fully kitted professional gym, it’s then that I see the gorgeous indoor poolroom glowing blue in the darkness. It’s completely f
lanked in glass, the pool lights reflecting off the surfaces like a shimmering oasis. Outside there are loads of overgrown trees giving the sense of seclusion and privacy.

  Tanner smirks at me and wastes no time pulling his T-shirt over his head. I have to pause and admire the beauty before me. He looks like a beach bum as he tucks his long blonde locks behind his ears. His tan skin is smooth and bumpy in all the right places. His trimmed beard and ink add a masculine edge to him that is utterly mouth-watering.

  He tweaks his eyebrows, sucking me back to reality. His eyes dip. “I showed you mine, now show me yours.”

  His cheek makes me feel a bit brazen. I glance at the door. “Is there any chance your brother will come down here?”

  He frowns. “Tired of me already, Ryan?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Not even close, Harris.” I frown as I realise just how truly I meant that.

  He narrows his eyes. “Gareth is a devoted footballer. Nothing will stop him from getting his eight hours of sleep. We should be safe.”

  Biting my lip, I reach under my dress and slide my black bikini bottoms down and toss them to him. He catches them deftly with one hand and brings them right to his face, inhaling deeply.

  I laugh and shake my head. “Animal.”

  “Tease,” he replies, his eyes turning positively feral.

  I do the same with my top and, before I lose my nerve, I slide my dress down, letting it pool around my feet. I’m now standing before him in nothing at all. The look he gives me makes my knees tremble. It’s one of complete and total animalistic attraction. He drinks in every bare inch of me—not at all shy, not at all polite. He ogles me as if I was made for him.

  And I let him.

  I resist all my previous insecurities about my body.

  I’ve never felt such instant comfort with a man before. Perhaps it has to do with our first time together. Or perhaps it’s the fact that we’ve had sex more than a dozen times in a short burst of time. That much intimacy and that much exploration can certainly help a person find comfort. Or perhaps it’s the fact that every time I’m naked with him, he has this look of tunnel vision as if nothing else exists in the world besides me and him and what he wants to do to me.