Endurance (Harris Brothers, #2)

by Amy Daws

“Stop staring at my trouser snake and drive!”

Tanner Harris’ cock is burned into the penis vault of my mind, whether I like it or not. Why couldn’t it have been crooked? Or bald? Or overflowing with so much pubic hair you couldn’t see where his hair ended and his dick started? That seems like the kind of penis he should have been swinging. It enrages me that it had to look better than all the others I’ve had before. And I’ve had plenty. I’m not a whore, per se. I’m experienced. I’m twenty-seven years old, I’m unattached, I have a stressful job, and I like to have fun.

And the truth is, there’s a little dark place in my body that still aches to know what it would be like to fuck Tanner Harris. Just once. I hate that part of me. I loathe and despise it. She’s an adulterous cunt.

I hate reasonable. “I’d like to punch you, but your bloody face looks like an angel and I’m afraid it would secure my seat in hell.”

How did this bird go from throwing her wine in my face to making me as hard as a rock within the space of an hour? She’s a witch. A temptress. She’s got me completely under her chocolatey, crazy chick spell and I’m entranced.

I meet her eyes with a cold and calculated stare. “The things I could do to your body are endless, Belle Ryan. You’re fucking perfect and you know it. You’re the kind of woman blokes marry, not fuck and leave!”

“How about this,” I whisper in her ear and feel her tremble beneath my touch. “Tonight, after we put on this charade, I’m going to take you back to your place and I’m going to fuck you.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “Let me finish or I’ll kiss those words right off your mouth. I don’t give a shit if Indie and Cam come out.” She closes her mouth and swallows. I tilt my head and eye her entire face thoughtfully, committing each tiny freckle to memory. “Then tomorrow, I’m going to text you to see when we might be able to fuck again because, believe me when I tell you, Belle, these past few days you were all I thought about. Naked. Panting. And so fucking wet.” I pull her hip toward me and she greedily arches into my touch. “So if a call is all it takes to get you back in that position, baby, you better watch your mobile because I’m going to blow it the fuck up.”

she’s topping from the bottom again.

His voice is like sandpaper when he utters, “There’s a lot I want to do and say, but first we need to get one thing straight.” His steely eyes bore into me. “You are mine, Belle. In whatever fucked up way we’re doing this right now, you are mine.”

His breath trembles when he adds, “Just tell me you want me.” I sniff, unable to find my words with his aching eyes on me. He moves his mouth to my ear and whispers, “That’s all you have to do.” He breathes in deeply. “Because I’m already yours.”

The angry, maniacal glint in his gaze from before is gone. He brushes the back of his finger along my cheek with one hand and says, “No more fake dating. No more bullshit. You’re mine. I’m yours. We walk back in there and we act like it. But this time, it’s not an act.”

But once you have someone that you don’t want to let go, it makes you wish you never would have taken hold of anyone else.

We give the doomed a chance at salvation.

“First, and most important, is how they make you feel about yourself. Are they good to you? Do they accept you for your flaws? See the best in you? The second is how they feel about themselves. Do they take pride in what they do? Do they strive to become more? Do they love themselves? And the third tier is…” She pauses and pushes her glasses up on her nose. Then she pins me to the chaise lounge with her eyes, showing me she’s one hundred percent serious. “Do you inspire each other?”

“I don’t care what you came from or who you didn’t have to lean on. Lean on me. Love me. Because I fucking love you, Belle. Your free spirit is what draws me to you. Your soul matches mine.”