Challenge (18 page)

A twinge of anxiety fleets through me at his perceptiveness. “It’s…complicated.”

“Try me,” he states.

“I’m impressed by how you’re getting around,” I deflect, eyeing his movement appreciatively. This is the first time I’ve seen Camden Harris at one hundred percent. No limp, no favouring. Just long, powerful strides, eating up the pavement of East London. I can only imagine how incredible he looks on the pitch.

“Yeah, it’s been good. The therapist has been working with me all week.”

He shows me some of the movements he does with the therapist and how when he twists it a certain way, he can feel the graft. I tell him that’s normal, relishing in the fact that we’re talking in my comfort zone right now and not about the fact that he’s coming back to my flat.

“Stitches still there?” I ask.

“Yes. They haven’t dissolved yet, but I hardly notice them. The incisions are small. You and Dr. Prichard are true to your words.”

“Don’t you mean Dr. Fuckwad?” I laugh and he smirks knowingly in response.

“You have to admit he’s got a creep factor to him.”

“But you luring a naïve doctor into your patient room at night is so innocent?”

“‘Naïve doctor sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it?” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and narrows a playful gaze at me.

I bob my head from side to side. “Experienced in books, but not in life I’m afraid.”

He winks and responds, “That’s all right. Life happens to be my specialty.”

We arrive at my basement flat, and he follows me down the exterior concrete steps. I’ve lived here since I was an intern because it was the only place close to the hospital that I could afford. Belle and I talked about living together after med school, but she comes from a lot of money and I knew she wouldn’t let me pay my way.

Being a doctor in England isn’t as lucrative as it is in the States. Since Royal Hospital is partially private owned, I make more than a lot of residents working for the NHS. But as a second year, it’s still pittance considering what we do for people every day. Thanks to my scholarships, I don’t have the outrageous student loans that so many others have to pay back. That, along with my parent’s guilt money, helps keep me comfortable.

I feel Cam’s warmth behind me as I unlock the door and it all feels strangely ordinary. He’s a famous London footballer. He plays in a stadium that’s a mile from my flat. People chant his name in the crowd, and girls throw their bras at him in hopes he’ll just look at them. What on earth is he doing here, and how is this my life?

“No roommate?” he asks, walking around my studio flat and taking in the tight quarters. He looks so large in here, his head only six inches from the ceiling. Everything looks tiny with him in here, right down to my gold, floral loveseat.

“No roommate. I erm…grew up in all-girls boarding schools with roommates all the time. So…” my voice trails off as I drop my keys in a bowl and desperately wish I had something to do with my hands. I also wish I wasn’t in my scrubs at the moment. I also wish he wasn’t peering into my closet.

“That’s right. You mentioned boarding school before.” He turns back to face me, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against my closet door. A dirty smile teases his mouth. “Have any pillow fight stories you want to share with me? Girl on girl experimenting perhaps?”

My cheeks heat as I laugh through my nose. “I’m afraid you’ll find my boarding school stories quite dull.”
If he only knew what the other girls did there.

He steps back for me to place my trainers in the closet and makes his way over to the adjacent wall. He grabs hold of what looks like a shelf and pulls out my Murphy bed as if he’s done it a thousand times before.

“I share a flat with Tanner. I envy your solitude.” He flops down on my multi-coloured quilt, and the view of him on my bed is…disarming.

“Do you want something to drink? I’m going to have something to drink.” I walk over to my refrigerator and rummage for something alcoholic. I could sing when I find a bottle of Prosecco that Belle left here last time she was over. I grab two tumblers and pour generous portions into each, turning around to find him watching me.

His brows arch. “Nervous?”

“No,” I baulk. I reassess. “Yes.”

“Indie…” He says my name in that way again. That way that makes my knickers feel warm and my heart feel fast. “I’m not expecting us to fuck right now.”

“You’re not?” I ask, deflating a bit but still affected by his cavalier use of that word. I don’t know why I assumed he was coming here for sex. I don’t know why I thought that I’d even be ready for it right now. In a way, I wish we would do it right now so there’s no time for me to overthink it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Why doesn’t he want it?

“Well, not entirely.” He stands up and walks up to me, placing his hands on either side of the counter, caging me with his hard body. I clutch my sparkling wine to my chest as my back presses against the worktop. He’s so close he has to bow his head to pierce me with his eyes. “Not tonight away.”

A playful twinkle in his gaze relaxes my nerves. “Then what are we doing?” I ask, pulling my lips into my mouth and rubbing them together.

“We’re reacquainting.” He leans down, and just when I think he’s going to brush his lips against mine, his hand comes up between us and he grabs his glass from me. A smirk plays on his lips as he takes a drink. “It’ll make it that much sweeter.”

A soft smile creeps across my face as I muse over his playful demeanour. Suddenly, I’m taken completely off guard when his lips land firmly against mine. The sweet, fizzy bubbles of the Prosecco are still fresh on his lips as he works himself into my mouth. I nearly drop my glass when his hand blindly takes it from me and places it on the counter somewhere beside us. He bends and grips behind my thighs, hoisting me up onto the counter to give himself better access to my face.

When he presses himself snuggly against my centre, I want to moan. Or sing. Or whimper. But definitely moan. His tongue enters my mouth, but it’s not greedy and demanding. It’s passionate and warm, sensual and hot. It’s delicious and even better than I remember it being at the hospital.

His hand slices into my tied up hair, snagging in the messy bun. As a result, he grips my top-knot with need and a command that has me arching into him and sliding myself closer. When his other hand slides up under my shirt, tickling my ribs, I stupidly realise that my hands have been frozen in fists on the countertop this entire time.

I quickly reach up and grip his biceps, shoving my hands under his short sleeves to stroke the tensed muscles. They’re smooth and hard, promising and powerful. They’re exactly what I want.

“We should stop,” he groans against my lips while need courses between us like bolts of electricity with every exhale.

“I’m not the one who started,” I murmur.

He swallows and presses his forehead against mine, further separating our mouths. “You’re always the one to kick it up a notch, though.”

My eyes widen. “That seems unlikely. Who’s the virgin here?” I ask, laying it all out there in my lust-induced state.

He laughs and pulls his head away from mine, glaring at me through his lash-framed eyes. “It’s the innocent ones that are the most dangerous.” His jaw muscle ticks as he appears to be pondering something while tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Maybe you should blow off your friend tonight after all.”

His caress on my face is so sweet that I almost forget he’s a slutty footballer. Pursing my lips, I shake my head. “I really can’t. Belle is my best mate. We have to go dancing at Club Taint for our Tequila Sunrise tradition.”

He moves out from between my legs and crosses his arms over his chest. “This sounds interesting.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just can’t bail on her. It’s her night, too.”

“Which is…?” He waits for me to fill in the blank, and I can tell by his expression that he’s not going to let this go.

Exhaling, I try to come up with a way to funnel this philosophy down as much as possible. “It’s our thing. Our jobs at the hospital are anything but typical. My drama at work isn’t someone eating my labeled yogurt out of the company refrigerator. It’s the fact that I’ve had to call the time of death on three patients and I’m only twenty-four-years-old.”

His face falls at the sharp turn this conversation has taken.

“I don’t mean to be a downer, but we see death or immense sadness every single week. A terminal diagnosis, telling a wife she lost her husband, a kid in a horrible car accident. The entire gamut of emotions all happen inside that hospital. So outside, we make it count. We have fun. We act our ages.”

“Tequila Sunrise,” he finishes.

I shrug. “Tequila Sunrise.”

A look of respect is evident on his face. “So…tomorrow then?”

I nod my approval, a flurry of excitement and possibility overcoming my insides. He’ll be my most exciting adventure so far.

His smile suddenly falls. “But you’re sure you don’t want something more, right? I don’t want to mislead you into thinking I’m someone I’m not, because I don’t do girlfriends. I do casual and safe. But never girlfriends…Except for a girl in fourth grade who kicked me in the balls and told me she’d do it again if I didn’t agree to be her boyfriend.”

“Oh my God, is that true?” I ask, poorly concealing a laugh, which makes him laugh, too.

“Yes. I cried real tears and was so afraid of her that we stayed together for a whole year. Eventually I convinced myself that the pain couldn’t have been that bad, so I broke it off with her. But I did it in the car with her mum there just to be safe.”

I laugh so hard my side hurts. I’m not sure if it’s the story that’s so funny or the tiny bit of horror I can still see in his eyes as he retells it. “That’s awful.”

“It was. Ruined me forever I’m afraid.”

“Well, you’re safe with me,” I add after my fit has subsided and I can breathe again. I slide off the counter, using his shoulder for balance. Patting him in a matey way, I assure him, “I have a plan all worked out and latching myself on to you isn’t a part of that. This is a one-night thing. I promise. My adventures in life have only just begun, Cam.”

He loses a little brightness in his eyes and looks down.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He looks toward the door. “Right.” He purses his lips and leans in, dropping a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Then he leaves without a look back.

My Penis List is finally going to start.

Tequila Sunrise, baby.

“
S
O YOU’RE SURE YOU
want it to be that Harris footballer? Not one of those blokes over there?” Belle asks, gesturing across the sea of people grinding against each other and waving flirtatiously toward the guys we just left.

“Yes I’m sure,” I almost growl, but hold back. We’ve been dancing with the same two guys since we arrived at Club Taint. They are cute and nice, and I’m trying to be fun because this is Belle’s night off, too, but all I have is Camden Harris on my mind. The more I moved my body, the more I thought about his pressed up against mine back at my flat.
God, I bet he would be an incredible dancer.
Before I knew it, I was feeling flush everywhere and didn’t want the guy I was with to get the wrong idea, so I told Belle I needed to cool off.

More like hose off.

“You look hot enough, you could get pretty much any guy here,” Belle adds. “Even the gay ones.”

I roll my eyes and look down at the mustard yellow dress she insisted I wear. It’s sleeveless, tight, and has a short asymmetrical hemline with a slit up one side. Paired with black, peep toe ankle boots, my red hair tamed into some halfway-decent curls, and Bad Blood lipstick, I can’t help but feel pretty good. It’s just too bad I can’t apply this effort to my
chosen one
.

I giggle to myself at that label for Cam and press my lips together, recalling the feel of his firm, sculpted arms and soft, needy lips. God, if he can fuck as good as he kisses, I’m more than ready for tomorrow.

I take large gulps of my cold beer and slightly sway, annoyed that the alcohol is doing nothing to stave off my desire. Belle downs the last of hers and waves the bottle. “You’ve got the next round.”