Challenge (20 page)

W
HEN
I
GET A GLIMPSE
of Belle’s tongue ramming down her dance partner’s throat, I decide it’s time for another drink. I break away from the guy I’m with and interrupt Belle just long enough to tell her I’m going to the bar. When I turn around, my guy has already grabbed another girl, so I don’t feel much love loss there.

I finally get myself out of the throng of people, feeling as if I just got mauled, and my gaze collides with a pair of eyes that I’ve been picturing in my head all night.

The Chosen One.

“Camden?” My voice sounds weak and unsure as I approach him, drinking in his entire body. He’s dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a thin, holey grey T-shirt. It’s the kind of shirt you pay a lot of money to have artfully distressed because if you tried to do it yourself, it would look as if you took a paper puncher to it. His hard muscles are on full display beneath the soft fabric and the touch of ink snaking out on one arm adds edge to a drool-worthy boy next door look.

“Indie.” He utters my name so quietly I have to step closer to hear him. Even his blonde hair looks perfect, smoothed over to one side. “This is what you look like outside of work?”

I glance down shrugging. “No, not always.”

“Good,” he replies with a scowl. “Were you dancing with someone out there?”

“Hello, Dr. Porter,” a deep voice interrupts from beside him. I hadn’t realised Camden’s brother, Gareth, was standing right next to him. “Nice to see you.”

“Please, call me Indie.” I look over and smile at him politely, immediately wondering what Camden has told him about me. “What are you guys doing here?”

Camden’s face softens and he replies, “I need to talk to you.”

A pit forms in my stomach from the look on his face. Were my texts too much? Is he wanting out? Without another word, he grips my arm and ushers me away from the bar. His hand is hot on my back as he gestures toward a quiet corner of the club with tall, empty cocktail tables and no chairs. Most of the clubbers are pressing in on the dance floor, so this area feels like a place you could go to murder someone and no one would hear their screams.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I ask, as the music thumps along with my heart. “What does your brother know about us?”

“Everything’s fine.” He gestures for me to stand on one side of the table and positions himself across from me. “Don’t worry about Gareth. I wouldn’t tell him more than he needs to know.”

“So he knows we’re—”

“Forget him. He doesn’t care. But you may as well know there’s not much you can do with a Harris that the others don’t eventually suss out. We’re like fucking psychics when it comes to each other’s business. It’s annoying as fuck.”

“Oh great,” I moan.

“But we don’t judge. Ever.” Camden pins me with a serious look that somehow calms my nerves.

I nod my assent. “So what are you doing here then?’

“I need to make some changes to our arrangement.” Camden is so tall that when he goes to rest his elbows on the table he has to hunch over, bringing our faces only a foot apart now.

Frowning, I ask, “What kind of changes?”

“I need more than one night.” His blue eyes flash back and forth between mine, revealing a touch of uncertainty.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t just take your virginity and leave. It’ll be awful.” My face falls but he catches himself quickly. “What I mean is, I’m going to make it good, don’t worry. But your first time won’t be as great as your third time. I want a third time. At least.”

My gaze drops. “Camden.”

“I’m not asking for a relationship or dating, or even friends with benefits. I’m just asking for more…sex.” He has the cheek to look sheepish.

“More sex,” I huff. He has an uncanny way of simplifying meaningful conversations into two words.

“And other stuff,” he adds. “I don’t know how much you’ve done and I want to be thorough. You have five days off, right?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“That’s just enough time. We’ll have some time to cool off before my final surgery and bam. I’m out of your life for good, satisfied that I’ve given you a lifetime of memories to make even your future husband look inadequate. It’ll be perfect.”

I can’t help but smile at his arrogance. “You came all the way here, to Club Taint, to tell me you want more sex?”

His eyes narrow. “I thought maybe if you were boozed up a bit, you’d be more amenable. You have a history of being a bit…tense.”

My jaw drops. “That’s only at work. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

He straightens, a broad smile taking over his entire face as he walks slowly around the table. I look down nervously as he grips my waist in his hands, squeezing my sides with delicious promise. Hovering over me, he walks me backwards until I’m pressed up against a nearby wall.

“
You
haven’t seen anything yet, Indie.” His voice is deep and husky, and the intense look in his eyes drains all good humour from my face. “I might have had one other reason to come here.”

He leans the rest of the way in and kisses me…like a savage.

Everything I remembered about our first kiss, and the second kiss, and the third kiss…is gone. Erased. The bar has been risen so high, all the other bars have disappeared.

My inner voice cheers in triumph at the fact that I’m actually doing this. I’m not just a doctor completely focused on my career. I’m going to be wild and have sex with Camden Harris and shift my one-dimensional life into glorious 3D.

He is the perfect Penis Number One.

Pulling back, he breaks our kiss, leaving my lips feeling raw and swollen. “What are the odds of you coming home with me right the fuck now?”

I swallow once. “I’d say pretty bloody good.”

T
ONIGHT IS THE FIRST TIME
I’ve ever seen Indie with makeup on. Even behind yet another new pair of glasses, she’s striking. The ones she’s wearing tonight are vintage with a black browline and an invisible bottom frame. Combined with the dress and the hair, it all works really well.

And I’m not sure I like it.

Women are a different kind of beautiful when they have makeup on. It puts them on display for all to see, and they want to be seen because they put in the extra effort. So their confidence is higher and their shoulders are straighter. They’re different.

But when Indie’s face is bare, she’s a secret kind of beautiful only noticeable to those who care enough to look.

I liked that I was the only one looking then.

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—”

Her snarky comment is cut off by a satisfying yelp as I wrap my arms around her waist and throw her over my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she squeals as I savour the feel of her bare legs in my hands.

I turn and walk her inside, kicking the door closed with my foot. “Do you think you’re smart, talking to me like that?” I ask, completely unable to hide the smile on my face.

Her hair tickles my back as she giggles. “I am quite smart, actually. I skipped three whole grades in primary school. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t know that. Tell me then, what did they do to punish clever girls with smart mouths in boarding school?”

“Oh, naughty, naughty things.” She giggles again and I have a momentary desire to put her down just so I can see her face when she does it.

“I might need a demonstration.” I walk down the hallway and straight to my room, forgoing the polite flat tour, the offering of drinks, and the inane small talk. Our arrangement is for sex and sex alone.

“I might be inclined to oblige.” Her voice is breathy when we reach the quiet darkness of my room.

I don’t turn the light on. The streetlights streaming in through the white, wooden blinds are plenty bright enough for me to see all I need to see. I want her to feel confident. I want her to feel safe. Her breath is heavy and I can feel her body tense with anticipation.

Instead of tossing her onto my bed like she probably deserves, I slowly slide her down off of my shoulder to the floor beside my bed. I savour every soft curve, peak, and warmth of her body against mine. In her heels, she’s eye-level with my chest, which is where her shaky hands and gaze are both glued to.

I tilt her chin to look up at me. “Don’t be nervous. We’re not going to do this now. Not with you being pissed.”

Her thick, mascara-lashed lids bat up at me. I note that her hair looks more wild now, long and loose down her back. “I’m hardly pissed,” she defends quietly.

“Still. If you want it to be memorable, you need to be sober, Specs.”