Challenge (25 page)

Cam: Get out of your head, Specs. We have five days. We should be able to do with those days as we’d like.

I bite my lip.

Me: Okay.

Thirty minutes later, a rather cosy looking Camden Harris stands on my doorstep in sweats and a soft white T-shirt. His blonde hair is smooth and floppy on his head. His eyes are blue and warm as they drink in my own cosy pyjamas that consist of leggings and a pink camisole. Just looking at him, I already regret the pain between my legs and the fact that we can’t have sex again yet.

He grins lasciviously and props himself on the doorframe. “I knew you couldn’t say no to me. I’m too irresistible.”

“Oh, shut up,” I growl and close the door behind him.

He hands me a bottle of Prosecco and I get us situated on my Murphy bed with some crisps, drinks, and a DiCaprio film on the telly.

I set pillows up behind us on the wall so we’re sitting up, and I adjust my glasses before taking a drink.

Camden watches me carefully. “How many pairs of eyeglasses do you own?”

My brows lift and touch my basic wire frames I currently have on. These are my nighttime eyewear—the ones I leave on my bedside table every night. “I think twenty now. I had twenty-one, but a patient broke a pair last month when I was setting a bone.”

“Ouch.” He winces. “Good thing you had a spare.”

“Yep,” I grin and nibble on a crisp.

“Is there a reason you have so many?” He takes a sip of his drink.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, but it’s daft.”

He frowns and a low rumble comes from his chest. “You say a lot of things about yourself are daft, do you know that?” His eyes pin me with a serious glower.

“No.” I frown back.

“Well, you do, and you should stop because I never agree.” He angles toward me and bends his large leg up, watching me expectantly. “Now tell me why you have so many eyeglasses. I’m sure there’s a reason.”

“All right.” I pull my glasses off and stare at them while I speak, a bit disarmed by his adamant interest. “So in school, there was this girl named Sinique Simon. Everyone always wanted to be her. She could sing like Beyoncé and spoke like four languages. She could even do the splits so far that she touched the bottom of her foot to the back of her head.”

“Impressive.” His eyes widen as I slide my glasses back on. “You should give it a go.”

I whack him on the arm and an involuntary smile spreads across my face. “I can see why your sister hits you so much.”

He chuckles. “It’s all a part of my charm.”

“Anyway,” I continue, “Sinique always wore the coolest sunglasses, even in class. And I guess it was sometime after med school when things started to change for me. I felt different on the inside, so I wanted to represent that on the outside.” I adjust my frames again with a sheepish smile. “It’s silly, but I didn’t want to blend in anymore. I wanted to have oodles of glasses so that every day I could select a pair that suited my mood.” I shrug.

He reaches out and tucks a piece of wayward hair behind my ear, and I feel warmth radiate between us. His face is serious when he asks, “What made you feel different on the inside?”

I swallow, my cheeks heating a bit with embarrassment. “I suppose Belle, maybe? My friend from the club. She’s a doctor, too. I met her in med school and she was always urging me to try new things. I didn’t have anyone like her in my life before.”

He glowers at my last word but doesn’t push it. “Well, they all suit you.” He leans in to drop a soft kiss on my neck and murmurs, “You’re very colourful, Indie Porter.” He lingers for a moment, running his nose along the length of my collarbone. When he finally pulls back, he sighs as if he’s just feasted on the most delicious bouquet of flowers.

The look in his eyes makes me squirm. It’s completely open and unprotected, devoid of any Penis Number One characteristics. We need to get back to our arrangement.

“So when are you going to teach me about this sexting?” I ask, turning on my side to face him. “This isn’t a movie and cuddle date here. I have goals with you, you know.”

His brows lift. “I’m great at scoring goals, Specs. Don’t you worry.”

I giggle.

He looks forward and adds, “And sometimes being spontaneous in life can be a great adventure. You don’t always have to stick to a plan.” He turns to watch me for my reaction but apparently isn’t happy with what he sees. Rolling his eyes, he sets his tumbler down. “Get out your mobile.”

I could almost giggle with excitement over how this could go. He slides down the bed on his back, his mobile clasped in his hands. I mirror him so we’re lying beside each other but both focusing on our mobiles.

I get the first text.

Camden: What are you wearing?

I giggle. “Well, have a look, why don’t you?”

He smirks and shakes his head as he waggles his mobile as if that’s the only way we can communicate right now.

Camden: I’m in my boxers.

I read the text and, out of the corner of my eye, see him slide his sweats off and yank his shirt off over his head. He’s now laid out, chiseled and gleaming in my dim lamp lighting.

Me: I’m in my knickers.

I too slip off my leggings. Then I sit up and pull off my cami. I reach behind myself and glance over my shoulder to see if he’s watching. I’m pleased when he is as I unclasp my bra and fling it to the floor.

He inhales sharply when I lie back down and squeeze my breasts together while gripping my mobile.

Camden: How do your breasts feel?

I huff a soft laugh and then bite my lip. Closing my eyes with embarrassment, I steel myself to reach down and cup one breast in my hand. I roll my nipple between my fingers and hear him tsk between his teeth.

Camden: Are you wet?

Oh my God.

Not wanting to be too chicken, I grip my mobile against my chest and slide my free hand down inside my knickers. I swipe a few times and feel my arse rise off the bed with excitement.

“Yes,” I groan, closing my eyes and picturing him.

“Mobile, Specs.” His voice is coarse and laboured as he watches me.

I nod and pull my hand out and bring it back to my keypad.

Me: I’m soaked. Are you hard?

I watch in gleeful delight as his hand reaches down into his boxers and pulls himself free. He is long and proud as he strokes himself, the tip glistening with promise. I immediately want to wrap my mouth around it, but I have a feeling if I do, I’ll lose the game.

Camden: You make me harder than any woman I’ve ever met.

Me: Bet you say that to all the girls.

Camden: Touch yourself again.

I slip my fingers inside of myself again, and it becomes a huge battle between closing my eyes in ecstasy or watching Camden’s ripped arm pump himself faster and faster.

Me: I want to taste you.

Camden: I can still taste you from last night.

Me: I want to fuck you again.

Camden: Soon, Specs. Very soon.

I grind into my hand and flick my clit the way I remember Camden doing to me this morning. The sensation causes me to cry out as I feel the build coming.

Camden: I’m going to come on you.

His text is the dirtiest thing he’s sent me so far, but the hope of him ending this texting and actually touching me excites me so much that I respond immediately.

Me: Yes, please.

The bed dips as Camden moves to straddle me. I slide up the wall so I’m no longer lying flat, allowing him to rub his crown between my breasts. I squeeze them together with my biceps to form some pressure around him while his other hand drops his mobile and reaches to find my aching centre.

Two fingers disappear inside of me and I moan, grabbing hold of him in my hands and taking over the movement in front of me. He gasps at my touch and uses his thumb on my clit, doing that firm sideways motion again.

“Oh my God, Cam,” I exclaim, pumping myself against his hand. His fingers on me are so much more effective than my own. I cry out another time when my release catches me completely off guard. “Yes!”

I grip him so hard in my hands when I orgasm that he yells, “Fuck!” Then his warm release spasms all over my chest.

I open my eyes and look up to find Camden with a sexy smirk on his face as he gazes down at the display he’s made. His fingers slip out of my centre and he sits back on his haunches.

“Another shower?” he asks, waggling his brows.

I giggle and shake my head. “Ye think?”

I
T’S NEARING FIVE O
’clock by the time I get to Indie’s flat to take her to Tower Park the next day. Last night with her is what I call dirty hot. It was exactly what I needed after the overwhelming feelings I had during our first time together.

I took a girl’s virginity once when I was seventeen. She was sixteen and we did it when her parents weren’t home. But I don’t remember it feeling so…emotional. Maybe Indie is just as expressive as she is responsive, and that’s what I was reacting to? I don’t know, but bloody hell, that felt different than what I’m used to.

When my traitorous sister gave her coffee, I knew I needed to get control of the situation. Having coffee in the Harris house with a girl who’s not blood-related is like picking out china patterns together. Way too far, Vi. Way too far.

But when Indie messaged me about sexting last night, I thought a down and dirty tryst that involved me leaving when we were done would get us right back on track. And it did. She didn’t seem bothered when I left after our shower. She seemed relieved.

Which is how it should be.

I don’t do relationships. I just like sex. I don’t see it as using women. I see it as appreciating them. At worst, I’ll be remembered as that footballer who shagged them once and taught them what great sex feels like. Some women accept that notion better than others.

This arrangement just feels different because it’s happening more than once. That’s all.

Indie opens the door and my eyes drink her in. It’s been great fun seeing what she looks like outside of the hospital. Tonight, she’s wearing a pair of tiny denim shorts and a thin white tank top with buttons down the chest. Her top is covered with a red plaid, long sleeve shirt that she’s left unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. The outfit is topped off with her red-framed glasses.

The glasses are the same ones she left in my hospital room after the second night she slept with me. I returned them to her before she left my flat yesterday. I chose not to mention the fact that I am pretty sure Dr. Prichard noticed them that day at the hospital. Indie is already so paranoid about people finding out about us that I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

Plus, I don’t think Dr. Fuckwad is the type to blow the whistle on Indie—mostly because he wants to fuck her. There’s not a doubt in my mind about that fact. But he knows that if he wants a shot, he has to stay on the right side of this. No one wants to fuck a snitch.

“You look good enough to eat…out.” I bend over to drop a kiss on her lips as my hands find their way to her backside, taking a cheeky squeeze.

She blushes and tucks her long red hair behind her ears. I’m pleased to see she left it down again. “Another pig moment…How novel.” She smiles at me in a way that tells me she likes my shocking comments. She gets me. “You look good, too.”