Page 15 of There is No Try

“Shame, because I am. I don’t care how many pieces of clothing you have on, I can’t get the image of you riding my face out of my mind.”

“Luc!” She playfully smacks my chest with the back of my hand, and her ring hits me with more force than I prepared for. The spot where the stone hit me stings and I stifle a groan, but it comes out sexier than I intended. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, and her voice is laboured as she repeats my name as a whisper, “Luc.”

“Yes, pup?” This time, my purr is intentional.

Her hand travels lower, grazing my stomach. “We shouldn’t do anything. It could complicate all of it.”

“Nothing about how much I want you is complicated. I’m all in for whatever you’re up for but consider this a warning—if you touch my cock with that ring on your finger, you’re claiming me as yours.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you. No one is being claimed tonight,” she teases, tucking into my side.

“I’m not disappointed.” I wrap my arm around Bridget, and her hand never leaves my stomach, no matter how much I desperately want her fingers to travel lower.

Keeping my abdominal muscles flexed for another thirty minutes is truly a feat my training staff would be proud of. Bridget couldn’t care less how toned I am, but I still feel as if I have something to prove. If she was anyone else, I’d have her on her back writhing under my tongue. Instead, I’m in a bullshitlimbo between friend and fiancé, and I fucking hate it. I want her to crave me, and that requires more than dinner and a movie.

We’ve watched the series no less than a dozen times start to finish, with emphasis on episodes four through six. After the long weekend we’ve had, it’s no surprise both of us fall asleep on the couch. I wake to the last scene with Luke, Leia, and the bots watching the Millenium Falcon leave. As the credits begin to roll, I turn off the telly then carry Bridget to bed. What I intend to be a sweet, romantic gesture goes horribly wrong as she startles in my arms and I nearly drop her.

Bridge grips me tighter and shrieks, “Luc! What are you doing?”

“I was bringing you to bed.” I chuckle and carefully set her on her feet. Keeping her body flush with mine, I quietly ask, “Is it all right if I stay with you?”

“Your bed is bigger than mine. You’ll be uncomfortable.”

“True.” I release Bridget to toss her over my shoulder. She lets out a full laugh and the sound makes my heart swell.

I have to be mindful of the narrow doorway but manage to bring her into my room without issue. Tossing her into the bed, her giggles cease. I’d give just about anything to spend the night with her soft, naked body tangled with mine.

Not tonight.

After we both brush our teeth and she takes her nightly medication—including her birth control pill and melatonin—we slide under the covers and I keep her close. With my arms wrapped around her, she rests her head on my chest, and we let out a collective, satisfied sigh. She fits perfectly tucked againstme. I love this woman more than words could ever express, and I don’t know how I’ll manage a night without her after tonight.

I wake several hours later for my weekly group therapy call. When I was in Australia, it was the middle of the day, but being here in Ireland, I’m forced to be an early bird like Ronan. I put on a shirt and log on a few minutes before we’re scheduled to begin. Russ is already on video.

“G’day, mate.”

“Hey, Robinson. You weren’t in the group chat this weekend. How’s everything going?”

I keep my voice low to not wake Bridget in my room. I’d typically do the call from my bed, but the kitchen table will have to do tonight. “Sorry about that, it’s been busy and I don’t think Ronan would appreciate seeing my name appear on his phone.”

“Did you two have a lovers quarrel?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrow.

“Not exactly,” I reply carefully. “I’m marrying his sister.”

Russ is mid-sip of his coffee and nearly chokes. “What did you just say? Did I hear you correctly? You’re marrying his sister?”

“Yeah, mate, yeah.” I rub my hand down my face, not wanting to rehash the past weekend.

He’s about to say something when an additional square appears on the screen. My stomach drops, thinking it’s Ronan, but breathe a sigh of relief to see it’s Will.

“Will! I just saw the footage from the game. That was a nasty hit,” Russ offers. “Are you okay?”

He groans, “Fuck, my back is killing me. It’s only preseason. I shouldn’t be playing with these young fucking rooks.”

“What happened?” I ask, feeling like an arse for not knowing what my mate went through today.

“I was sacked by a fucking beast. The kid easily had over a hundred pounds on me; knocked the wind right out of my lungs.” Will adjusts in his seat and winces. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Try it without padding,” I jest with a wink to lighten the mood.

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