Page 18 of Endurance
“He’s back already? He wasn’t at our flat.”
She looks down, red colouring her cheeks. “Yeah, he said he’d come straight here from the airport because he didn’t want to miss you and Belle erm…heading out.”
I roll my eyes. Of course my brother wants a front row seat for the show. The bastard. He’s probably enjoying this spectacle.
“I think it’s sweet,” Indie stammers like she has to defend their actions. “You and Belle will have fun, I just know it.”
Inhaling deeply, I reply, “I’m just looking forward to this all being over.”
“Guess who brought their camera!” Cam’s voice makes me jump as he emerges behind me and throws a matey arm over my shoulders. His tone goes up an octave as he speaks like a doting mummy. “Our little boy is going on his first date!”
“Cam!” Indie peals, ignoring his jabs at me and leaping into his free arm.
“I missed you, Specs.” He moans his pet name to her and, by the looks of their embrace, you’d think he’s returned home from war, not a few days away for a match.
In seconds, she’s cupping his face and her lips are on his. I stare in horror as his free hand moves down to grab her arse. He’s still holding onto me by the shoulders, reflexively tightening his grip ever so slightly.
“Unless this is a subtle way of asking me to join you for a threesome, maybe you can let me go before you start tongue raping your girlfriend,” I groan, sliding out from under his heavy arm and shaking off the disgust coursing through my body over that peculiar encounter.
“I thought threesomes were right up your alley.”
I look over to see Belle standing at the bottom of the staircase with one hand on the railing and the other perched on her hip.
“Not with that duo,” I mumble, trying to erase the odd sensation of my brother’s touch. “With you on the other hand…” I look Belle up and down, appreciating everything she has going on right now. She’s wearing tight brown leather leggings with black pointy toe heels that make her legs go on for days. Her top is a cream flowy number that hides some of my favourite assets of hers. Regardless, she still looks fit as fuck. “…I could entertain the idea.”
“Save the smooth talk. We have to have a real talk. Now.” She eyes Camden and Indie, who have moved their make out session from the doorway to the dining room table. Raising her brows knowingly, she turns and makes her way up the stairs. “They look like they need a minute. Follow me.”
I cock my head to the side and watch her curvy body take the stairs with a power that cannot be ignored. Her inky black ponytail bounces with every step, and I find myself picturing her spread out naked on those steps as I drive myself into her. Being invited up to her bedroom is quite a turn of events.
I take the stairs two at a time and catch up to her just as she enters her room. I cross my arms over my chest and prop myself against the doorframe, shooting her a lascivious smirk. “Maybe this arrangement won’t be so bad after all. Let’s get naked and talk about our fears.”
The look she gives me reminds me of smelling a carton of rotten milk. “If you think I asked you up here to fuck, you’re more delusional than I thought.” Her tone is visceral and her dark eyes are alight with a touch of rage. “I brought you up here because I need to say something and I don’t want Indie to hear.”
Deflated, I step in and close the door. Her room smells like fruit and flowers and perfume and all things girlie. I have a strange desire to roll around in it and coat it all over me. And then I realise that I’m a bloke and having those thoughts is really unmanly.
I touch my balls.
“Look. You fucked me up the arse without lube with this mess we’re in, Tanner Harris. So let’s get a few things straight.”
Her choice of words has me staring at her arse as she paces in front of her bed. The large window at the head of her bed has no curtains and I immediately wonder why the fuck she doesn’t have blinds in her bedroom.
“I’m aware,” I reply and she eyes me harshly. Like a dog being commanded, I sit down on the cream button-tufted chair beside her dresser.
“I hate this. I hate every bit of this arrangement. I barely speak to my father, let alone see him. Then today he was in my flat, barking orders at me like I’m one of his fucking secretaries.” She stops pacing and stares me down. “No one tells me what to do.”
“Then why did you agree to this?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Because I have a job. A real fucking job. I don’t just kick a ball around on a pitch. I need this fellowship to go well because this is the specialty I want to end up in. I cannot afford this scandal. So you need to make this look good, Tanner Harris. You need to make us look like the King and Queen themselves. If I go into work tomorrow and face my attending, who is a world-renowned surgeon, and she looks at me as if I’m a slut who sleeps around, I will find a way to drug you, shave your head, drag your body to a tattoo shop, and have them mark you for life with something so horrid, so ghastly, so incredibly humiliating, you won’t be able to get your willy up for years!”
A gust of air flies out of my mouth. “How did you get that all said in one breath?” I’m panting with fear.
“Because, I’m Jesus,” she states, her face revealing nothing but icy, dark, dangerous promise.
I swallow hard and give my balls a touch again. Thank fuck they are still there.
“Well, Messiah, I promise I won’t let you down.”
The cab ride is silent as Tanner and I ride toward Covent Garden. I glance over at him beside me as he stares out the window. He looks a bit like a whipped puppy. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a hot little hound dog. His blonde hair is tied up into a messy man bun, some strands falling out around his face. His beard looks a bit more trim than it did last night. I assume he cleaned it up since they lost their match yesterday and his superstition of never cutting his hair during a winning streak is no longer relevant.
