Endurance

by Amy Daws

His breath trembles when he adds, “Just tell me you want me.”

  I sniff, unable to find my words with his aching eyes on me.

  He moves his mouth to my ear and whispers, “That’s all you have to do.” He breathes in deeply. “Because I’m already yours.”

  He pulls back and looks into my eyes with total and complete dire need. Like a ship in the night, his presence is the swirling light, drawing me in from the dark sea. His vulnerability is too much. His need is too heady. My gaze waters as my body arches into him.

  Of course I want him. I’ve wanted him since he rejected me. I’ve wanted him since he hurt me. I’ve wanted him even when I hated him. And I know I can’t hold out a second longer. My endurance has crumbled.

  So I feed the beast.

  “I want you,” I whisper and a strange noise rises from my throat as I brush my quivering lips against his. A feather-light touch of our mouths that I feel all over my body.

  He pulls back and closes his eyes, exhaling the weight of the world out of his lungs. His eyes crack open for a split second before he angles his face and drops a hard, claiming kiss on my lips. It’s wet and sloppy and possessive, and it’s turning into so much more but nowhere near enough.

  We shift into a mess of groping, squeezing limbs, crushing our bodies together completely and giving in to the beast of need roaring between us. My chest heaves with longing against his. My breasts yearn to be touched. My body aches to be filled. This kiss isn’t sufficient. The desperation to reconnect in the most carnal way possible is urgent.

  Tanner moves us away from the wall and farther into the darkness of the alley. My back collides with something hard and cold, and I break our kiss to see I’m pressed up against a truck.

  His voice is deep and throaty as he presses his hard-on into me. “I’m fucking you right here, right now. I can’t wait.”

  He starts frantically digging in his pocket and I hear the most glorious sound ever. The beep of a key fob.

  He opens the door and lifts me into the driver’s side, crawling in behind me and pushing me across the bench. I give the alley a cursory glance, knowing it is nuts to fuck in an alley outside a pub with his entire team inside.

  But that’s us. We’re crazy.

  Once he’s past the gear stick, I fly toward him and frantically fumble with his jeans, opening the zipper and grabbing his hardened shaft in my hands. I squeeze the silky skin with all the anger I have still coursing through my veins. Rage and frustration fuelling this crazy act of sex.

  Tanner unceremoniously tosses my heels and rips me out of my skinnies and knickers. He leaves my long sweater on as he manhandles me astride him. His eyes are dark on me as the head of his cock nudges my opening. I use the roof to brace myself and moan loudly, already soaked with a wanton ache to be filled.

  As if my cry was a shotgun at a starting gate, he yanks down on my hips and meets me with a hard thrust upward, impaling me with a ferocity that has me seeing spots.

  A garbled cry of relief escapes his throat, like being inside me stopped something from completely breaking inside of him. His hold on my thighs is bruising as I grind down on him, begging him to move.

  He drops his head to my chest and groans, “I don’t like you flirting with other guys.”

  His hips resume pumping up into me again, and my arousal is only intensified by the possessive tone of his voice. I bite my lip and slide up and down on his dick. “I wasn’t flirting,” I breathlessly snipe, realising sex isn’t going to fix all of our problems.

  “Oh really? Then tell me, do you like it when I flirt with other girls?” His voice is moany as he power drives into me over and over, my arse bouncing on top of his balls.

  “I couldn’t give a fuck,” I lie as he yanks down my top and pulls a hard nipple into his mouth. When he bites down, my hands drop from the roof and I claw my nails into his shoulders so hard, I’m sure they’ve ripped the fabric of his shirt.

  The pain drives my arousal higher.

  “Bullshit,” he growls, his eyes wild on mine with determination. “I know you, Belle.”

  He twists his hips in a way that hits a spot so deep, I’m not sure it’s ever been touched before. Recognising how I respond, he begins rapidly thrusting up inside me, punching that spot over and over and over. I claw and scratch at anything I can find. His hair. His face. I even bite down on his shoulder at one point, desperate to find control over this painful climb.

  Right when I think I’m going to blast into the universe, he stops all movement and says, “Admit it.”

  I growl, my fiery eyes snapping to his. “Fine, I care! I want to tear that girl’s eyes out. Are you fucking happy?”

  He yanks my face down to him and I feel his triumphant smile as he captures my lips. Pulling back, he murmurs, “That girl I was talking to in there…those women…All I spoke about was you and how incredible I think you are and how amazing your job is. I even told them about your fucking hospital charity.”

  My breath is heavy as I process his words, but I don’t even have a chance to respond before he suddenly quickens his pace inside of me. My hands grapple for purchase, but they are reaching for the unknown, flailing in the dark shadows and trusting that Tanner will continue to never let me go.

  My hard and fast climax takes me completely off guard in all its Tannerific glory. I could sing at the electric tingle all over my body that I so desperately needed after all the wrath and anger I felt moments ago.

  Tanner follows seconds after. We’re both slick with sweat and panting for a while before I roll off of him. Then he moves to pull his jeans up, which only made it down to his thighs.

  I feel his come dripping out from between my legs. “You don’t have a tissue in here, do you?”

  He winces and eyes my legs. “I don’t…but…here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of my knickers. Not the ones I was wearing tonight, but the ones he nicked out of my suitcase in Manchester.

  He shoots me a lewd smirk. One that brings me right back to how we were before. A little nuts, but happy. He shrugs and I laugh, sounding a bit insane but not giving a shit.

  I use them to clean up and then toss them out the window toward the dumpster. Tanner side-eyes me.

  “Oh, did you want to keep those?”

  “Not as long as there are more where they came from.” He winks.

  I sigh and slide back into my clothes, smoothing down my hair so it’s not glaringly obvious to the rest of the world that I was just angry-fucked in an alley.

  “So what now?” I ask.

  “We’re doing this.” He says it so simply as he throws his arm on the back of the seat behind me and plays with a tendril of my hair. His eyes are perfectly serious. His breath is smooth and steady. The angry, maniacal glint in his gaze from before is gone. He brushes the back of his finger along my cheek with one hand and says, “No more fake dating. No more bullshit. You’re mine. I’m yours. We walk back in there and we act like it. But this time, it’s not an act.”

  My heart skips a beat, so I decide deflection is the best response. “Stop barking orders at me, you fiend.”

  He leans across the seat and kisses me with a tenderness that feels as if it was reserved specifically for this moment. “Woman, say you’re mine.”

  I sigh against his lips. “Why do you need to hear it so badly?”

  “Because I fucked up once and I won’t do it again.” He pulls back and his hands begin to tremble as he runs a nervous hand through his hair.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, feeling the sudden shift in him. I slide across the bench and hold onto his arm.

  He swallows hard and stares out the windscreen while he speaks. “My mum died when I was three and I didn’t know much about her, other than what she left behind.” He turns and pierces me with a serious look. “There was this one note from her that I’ve always connected with. I had all but forgotten about it until earlier today when I came across it again.”

  “What did it say?” I ask, searchin
g his eyes and finding a vulnerability he has never revealed to me before.

  “It said, ‘When you don’t know what to do, sit still.’” He sighs heavily with realisation dawning on his features. “I was sitting still before, Belle, but I’m done with that now. This is new territory for me, but I’m asking you to move…with me.”

  I smile at his sincerity and take his hand in mine, dropping a kiss on the back of it before answering, “Let’s get our arses in gear then.”

  Possessive pride courses through my veins as I hold Belle’s hand and walk back into Welly’s Pub. I wanted her here with me before I knew that I wanted to be with her. Officially. It’s simple. Having her near me, breathing the same air as me, makes me happy.

  And fuck if I could use some happiness right now.

  The idea of introducing her to some of my teammates tonight gives me a thrill. They’d all been winding me up most of the night for “wifing up” as they say. I’ve done the same to Cam, truthfully.

  The girls I was talking to earlier were some of the nicer WAGs of my teammates who were genuinely curious about Belle and what she does at the hospital. They’ve never seen me serious with anyone, and their eyes were wide with amazement when I told them about the one surgery Belle described to me in great detail. It made me proud of her even though she wasn’t mine to be proud of.

  Yet.

  Now everything’s changed. No more fake dating. No more charade. Belle and I can just be what we are, which is pretty much what we’ve been doing as it stands.

  When we round the corner past the loos, I hear loud, riotous singing with one voice piercing above them all.

  “Indie!” Belle gasps. Her free hand moves to cover her shocked expression as the noisy scene comes into full sight.

  Indie is standing up on the bar, leading the entire team and some of the WAGs in the Bethnal Green Pride song. Her curly red hair is in a huge messy bun on top of her head, her jeans are wet from an apparent spill, and her glasses are crooked on her face.

  But her grin is larger than life.

  “Belle!” Indie crows as we step into her line of vision. She looks down at our hands encased in one another. “You guys made up!” The dopey smile on her face grows, making me laugh.

  A hand reaches up toward Indie, but she swats it away and then tries a ninja swizzle kick. The bartender steps behind her with his hands up like he’s ready to catch her, but she corrects herself. Once both feet are stable again, she thrusts her arms up in victory.

  The team all cheers along with her.

  A desperate-looking Booker is the owner of the reaching hand. He looks over his shoulder at Belle and me. “A little help here!”

  Belle and I do everything we can to stifle our laughs as we talk Indie down from the bar. She falls into Booker’s arms but won’t stop beaming back and forth between Belle and me.

  “This is really happening, isn’t it?” she slurs.

  I grin and push her glasses up on her nose. “Are you happy, Indie?”

  Her dilated eyes widen. “Tanner, I couldn’t be happier than if you guys were getting married.”

  We all laugh. Then Booker and Belle both help Indie out to the alley toward our truck. The four of us squeeze side by side in the cab as Booker drives us to Belle and Indie’s flat.

  Booker offers to help carry a now sleeping Indie inside, but I wave him off, telling him to go back to the pub and have some fun. He gives me a nod and a smile—a simple exchange of words happening without a sound.

  Once I get Indie tucked into her bed and Belle puts water and aspirin on her nightstand, we both stare down at her for a minute.

  “Think she’ll remember any of this tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Doubtful,” Belle replies.

  “I’ll be happy to tell her again,” I murmur, tucking my head into Belle’s neck and slinking my hands around her waist.

  She lets out a throaty sound, and I walk her backwards out of Indie’s room. My lips travel the length from her bare shoulder to her ear as we shuffle down the hallway and into her room, kicking the door closed behind us. When the back of her legs hit the bed, I pause.

  Slowly, I peel her sweater over her head and trail my hands down her sides until her nipples pebble into little buds. I take my time unbuttoning her trousers, pausing to dip my hands into her knickers. She reaches up and grabs hold of my head for support. Her fingers grip my locks as I cup and knead her, relishing in her obvious desire for me.

  “I’ll never tire of this body,” I husk, staring at her nakedness as I slide her trousers off and lay her back on the bed. “Every curve is fucking perfection.” I eye her for a minute, marvelling in the fact that she’s really mine.

  “Stop staring at me like that,” she croaks, pulling her legs up as a self-conscious shield. “You’re making it weird.”

  I refuse to let her turn this into a joke. I pull my shirt over my head and crawl toward her on the bed. Positioning myself between her thighs, I pin her wrists by her head so she has nothing to do but look into my eyes. “Belle. I see you now and I can’t look away.” She blinks slowly, a softness in her eyes that consumes me. “You make other women look tame and boring. You’re fucking incredible.” I kiss her deeply, inhaling her gasp.

  “My beautiful.” Kiss. “Crazy.” Kiss. “Wild.” Kiss. “Woman.”

  She moans loudly, bucking her hips up into mine. “I need you inside of me, Tanner. Now.”

  I nod and free her hands to do what they must, knowing deep down that I need a whole lot more than this. But this will do. For now.

  “WELL, THIS IS IT,” I say, looking at Belle as we walk through the bright yellow front door of my dad’s home in Chigwell, charged and ready for Sunday night dinner.

  After Welly’s, we spent the rest of our weekend together doing normal, ordinary things. Shopping, brunching, laughing, screwing. Even fighting over the film we were going to rent.

  She won.

  However, bringing her to my dad’s today feels like anything but ordinary. It feels important. Things with Belle and me are happening crazy fast, but it feels right. Truthfully, I’ve always been this way. Once I decide on something, I go full steam ahead and I don’t let anything get in my way. What happened to me after Manchester was a bit of temporary blindness. I thought the heart couldn’t miss what it can’t see, but that was bollocks. I missed Belle. Our time at Gareth’s was special and real and probably something I’ll never forget. So her being here today is me opening myself up to more with her. This isn’t a game anymore.

  “So this is where the infamous Harris Brothers grew up?” Belle asks, taking a turn around the foyer, stopping at the large wooden staircase that leads to the bedrooms. She grins. “I bet you got up to naughty things up there, didn’t you?”

  I lift my brows as a random neighbour girl pops in my brain like a camera flash. She wasn’t anyone important, but she existed.

  “I’d rather not talk about it,” I mumble, grabbing Belle’s hand and pulling her away from the stairs.

  “No need to be awkward, Tanner,” she states, her heels clacking along the white marble floor as I lead her down the hallway. “I know you’ve been with other women. I’ve been with other men! It’s fine. We both have a past.”

  “That we don’t need to discuss,” I grumble, my face twisting in disgust as I contemplate how hard it would be to kill every other man who’s ever touched Belle Ryan.

  She stops abruptly and yanks me to her. Her hands reach up to cup my jaw as she says, “We’ll just have to make some new memories. Dirty ones maybe.”

  She kisses me with a nip on my lip and I exhale. Caring about someone this much is a strange, uncomfortable sort of feeling. Only a month ago, shagging women was a sport to me. It’s all my teammates and I thought about besides football. But once you have someone that you don’t want to let go, it makes you wish you never would have taken hold of anyone else.

  I give her arse a cheeky squeeze and pull her the rest of the way toward the kitchen. Turning my back to t
he door, I cock a brow at her. “Contrary to what you might believe about how much time I spent in my bedroom, this is where we spent most of our time.”

  I back up through the double doors and turn to find Dad and Booker propped at the high-top island that sits parallel to the chef-style kitchen. Vi is at the sink, her apron dangling over top of the football that’s invaded her stomach.

  “Hello there,” Dad states, standing up and pushing the condiment bottles off to the side. He reaches out and shakes Belle’s hand, bowing his head awkwardly. “You must be Belle.”

  “I am. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Harris.”

  “Please, call me Vaughn.”

  I eye the playbook. “Going over tactics?”

  He frowns and flicks his hand. “Just some manoeuvres I want Booker to be aware of for Wednesday. Middlesbrough has crazy attacking runs, so we want to be on the lookout. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” He looks at Belle and a tightness forms around his eyes. “I erm…know this whole thing between you and Tanner hasn’t been ideal these last few weeks, but I really appreciate you doing this for the team.”

  Belle turns to me with a sexy glint in her eyes. “It hasn’t been so bad.”

  “Hi, Belle,” Vi beams, walking over to her and giving her an awkward arse-out hug. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

  Belle laughs. “I’m sure I’ll fit right in.”

  “Cam and Indie are out back,” Booker says, gesturing toward the French doors that lead out to the patio. “They’re fighting about Indie’s bartop performance in front of the whole team on Friday.”

  My brows lift. “Oh, shiiiiit. Is Gareth refereeing?”

  “No, he’s on the road,” Booker answers. “Hayden is out there.”

  “I still can’t believe Indie danced on top of a bar!” Dad cajoles with a twinkle of chagrin. “She’s so professional at practice and matches. And she’s quiet when she comes over here.”

  “That’s because it’s hard to get a word in edgewise around here,” Vi interjects, striding back into the kitchen just as Hayden comes through the door laughing. He covers his mouth with his hand and Vi’s face drops. “How bad is it?”