Page 47 of Endurance
A smile teases the corner of my mouth when a pleasant hum rumbles from somewhere deep inside of her. She practically thrusts her groin against me when my hands slide up to the sides of her breasts. I smooth my thumbs over her nipples and nearly fall apart when I feel them bead beneath my touch.
No. Fucking. Bra.
And in a blink of an eye, she’s topping from the bottom again.
I like to think I’ve got Belle all figured out by now. Her day off from work consisted of us spending the majority of our time in her bed. In her shower. Even in her kitchen at one point. So to say I’m familiar with how to stimulate Belle Ryan’s body would be a gross understatement. But somehow, she still finds a way to make things interesting. To stir the pot. To get me going. To surprise me. And something simple like not wearing a bra is a perfect example of the control she manages to maintain.
I’m becoming addicted.
Thankfully, she had a big surgery at the end of the week that she needed to focus on so we were forced to part ways until this evening. My mind and my cock needed a break. It also gave me a chance to call Santino yesterday to check in and see how we’re doing. He said he’d been talking to Belle’s father and they were pleased with the coverage thus far. I let him know we would need some addendums to our scheduled dates for this weekend, and he seemed chuffed that we were headed on a mini holiday to Manchester. He said he’d spin that to the press and they’d lap it up like dogs, especially with it being such a high-profile game.
So far this fake dating hasn’t been hard at all. Belle’s a bit of a head case from time to time, but it’s nothing a good swizzle stick can’t fix. I think a fair amount of dickin’ keeps us both in better spirits.
But apparently I haven’t had enough because the bulge pressed up against her stomach seems to have a strong muscle memory.
“Fine, you can drive.” Belle gasps against my lips as she pulls away. She’s breathless as her eyes glance down between us. “But only because that thing can’t take care of itself.”
Belle’s Mercedes isn’t the most masculine of vehicles, but it’s been a while since I’ve driven and it feels good to be behind the wheel again. The drive to Manchester is congested, dark, and bland, but Belle’s nattering on beside me makes time pass rather quickly. She’s a funny storyteller. Her eyes get so big in the blue dashboard lights as she animates her story. She likes to ask a lot of questions, too, like, “And then do you know what happened?” It’s kind of adorable.
Her enthusiasm tonight is because of a set of twins they separated inside the womb earlier today. She tells me how hands-on she got to be during the surgery, and how Dr. Miller is finally starting to trust her more. It blows my mind that she spent her day inside a woman’s pregnant stomach, saving babies who weigh no more than a pound each. Most people sit in front of computers at a dull office. She touches the untouchable. She plays God.
The passion she has for her job radiates off of her and it makes me miss my own. Being a career athlete is incredible but it’s hard at times, too. The physical and mental stress is exhausting. You’re not just paid to play football. You’re paid to win. And your fans feel like they own a piece of you. Your victory is their victory. Your loss is their loss. When you don’t perform up to their standards, they turn on you rather quickly.
However, when you’re on top of your game—when the crowd chants your name and their cheers are for you and you alone—it’s the stuff gods are made of.
“All right then,” Belle states, interrupting my thoughts and propping a bare foot on the dashboard. “I shared some Deep Talk, now it’s your turn.” She breaks the shell off a pistachio nut and hands it to me. “Are you worried that watching the match tomorrow will be hard?”
I frown at her and pop the nut into my mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. “Why would you think it’d be hard?”
Her brows lift. “I imagine you’re itching to get back on the pitch. Seeing your two brothers play on their dream teams while you’re stuck with me sounds a bit brutal.”
I think about that for a minute. I’d love to play again but, for some reason, I don’t feel ready. As hard as this break I’ve had has been, it feels like it came at a good time. Maybe some time away from the pitch is exactly what I needed to get myself sorted.
“First of all, now that I can be stuckinsideof you, this fake dating isn’t so bad.” I shoot her a lewd smirk.
“Oh, aren’t you such a romantic.” She winks and hands me another nut.
“Second of all, watching my brothers play tomorrow will be a bit of a luxury that I don’t get to partake in much. Our football schedules are always conflicting, so I’m excited to be able to just sit and cheer for them.”
“Won’t it be hard seeing Camden on another team, though? You guys have played closely together for so long.”
A tenseness forms in my shoulders, but I shake it away and reply through clenched teeth, “Harris family support is unwavering.”
I can feel her watching me as she pries, “But surely things have changed since he started playing for Arsenal?”
“They have,” I reply, feeling an annoying prickle on the back of my neck. “But I don’t think it will matter in the long run. My siblings are top priority…always.”
“But what about when they all start their own families? Your sister is having a baby. Camden and Indie are all over each other. I mean, everyone’s kind of moving on, right? Even though in the end, we all end up alone.”
Her last words are murmured to the window and they shock me more than anything else she said. “You save families from despair every day. Surely you’re not that cynical.”
“I save them from medical circumstances,” she corrects. “I have no idea what their lives are like when they go home.”
“Well, I don’t go a day without speaking to one of my siblings. My dad has managed my entire career. Vi supports everything we do. We’re thick as thieves. We may be one tent away from a full-blown circus, but we’re woven into each other’s everyday decisions and I don’t see that ever changing.”
I see her brow furrow in the dark as she mulls over what I’ve just said like she’s warring with something. Belle’s eyes are so expressive, you’d have to be blind not to notice.
“What are you thinking about?” I push and her gaze snaps over at me like she forgot I was there.
