Page 68 of Endurance
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.
