Page 44 of Challenge
Now, with her lips fire engine red and pouty, every bloke in this club had to be checking her out, gauging their odds and how much work it would take to shag her.
So I had to kiss her. I couldn’t stop myself. It was erratic and messy and wet, but my dick cheered when I pulled back and her lips were swollen and her eyes were filled with lust. It was either kissing her or peeing on her so every guy knew to back the fuck off. Indie Porter belongs to Camden Harris.
For the next five days that is.
Indie goes to talk to Belle while I go to find Gareth, who’s none too surprised when I tell him I’m getting a cab home.
“That didn’t take long.”
I smile. “I’m a Harris.”
He laughs and sets his beer down. “Can I go now?”
“Yes, my brother, you can. Thanks for the support.”
“Not that you needed it,” he states as he pulls his hat down and makes his way out of the club.
A few minutes later, Indie finds me at the bar and I usher her outside to the bank of cabs. “Your friend doesn’t need a ride?” I ask as a black cab pulls up in front of us.
“No, she’s going home with a guy she met.” Indie shrugs like this is perfectly normal behaviour.
She slips inside first. As soon as I fold myself in behind her, I stare hard at her. “How are you feeling?”
She bites her lip. “Fine.”
My gaze narrows as I put my arm on the back of the seat and eye her carefully. “How much did you have to drink?”
She looks away and I sigh. She’s not falling over drunk, but there’s no way I’m having sex with her if there’s even a chance of her not being sober.
She scoffs and turns to face me. “Well, I had this really cheeky footballer, who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, manhandle my lips right before I went out tonight. I had to cool off somehow.”
I’m across the bench in a blink, pressing my lips firmly to hers again.God, she tastes good.
“Where are we going?” the driver barks, interrupting our kiss.
I give him my address and pause when I realise what I’ve just done. Tanner and I have an unspoken rule to never bring women home. I suppose we never did it when we lived at our dad’s so it’s just something we continued when we moved out.
As athletes, our home is our sanctuary away from the pitch. It’s where we prepare and recover ourselves from the grueling parts of our jobs. It gets pretty nasty after we get back from matches. We’re athletes. We stink. But it’s who we are, and we don’t need a woman coming in and judging our system.
Plus, if we don’t bring women home, there’s never the whole awkward “do I have to offer her coffee” sort of vibe. Making coffee for a girl is basically like getting down on one knee—something I can’t even fathom doing.
I actually want to bring Indie back to my flat, though, which is a notion that strikes me as odd. Maybe it’s the virginity thing that makes her different because I’ve never wanted it with any other girl.
I can’t explain it and I’m not going to obsess over it. Or make her coffee. Tanner is gone and, right now, I want to see how Indie Porter looks on my bed.
We arrive at my building and take the lift up to my fourth floor flat. As I’m unlocking the front door, she asks, “Are you a good dancer, Camden?”
This question is odd, even for her. “Why do you ask?”
She sighs and leans against the wall just as I open the door. “I envisioned you were tonight when I was dancing with some bloke.”
My jaw clenches. “I don’t need to hear about you dancing with other guys.”
She smirks. “But I was thinking about you so it shouldn’t count.”
“It counts.”
“I think I like this jealous side of you. I might have to use it to my—”
