Chapter Thirty-One - Henry
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Henry
I GLANCE AT the doors to the training room, waiting for Mirabelle to come storming through. I think she might actually try to kill me, but I don’t think I care if it means she’s safe.
I grunt in exertion as my muscles scream at me to listen while I bench press more weight than I probably should be doing midseason. Crosby eyes the weight skeptically. “Price, you sure you should be doing this much weight? I thought Coach said to go light today,” he questions, helping me rack it as I sit up.
“He did, but it’s fine. I’m done for the day, thanks for spotting me.”
“No problem, man. Got your back any day,” he says, passing me a towel that I throw over my shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that your girl?” Crosby asks, pointing at the storming figure I have been expecting any minute for the last half hour. She had meetings all morning, and I knew she wouldn’t have a chance to speak her mind until now.
“Yeah.”
“She looks mad.”
And then I see the shadow I hired indefinitely behind her. Good . Sam said Tom would be able to keep up with her.
“Mira’s fine,” I say, but now that I can see the rage on her face, I’m a little worried.
“Henry Joshua Price, please tell me you did not hire a guard to follow me around without talking to me first!” she shouts, causing some of the other guys to shake their heads at me while a few others who know her father turn away to laugh.
“No,” I answer. “I hired ex-military.”
I got in touch with Sam, the bodyguard her parents hired after the Olympics, to explain the situation with her parents’ house and that she thought someone was in our backyard, to see if he thought I was overreacting. It made me feel better when he told me I’d done the right thing by reaching out to him, but he was currently working with pop star, Scarlett Ashford. He called in a favor to give me the name of a friend he had served with during his time in the Army who he thought might be a good fit. Sam also wished me luck, after warning me Mirabelle wouldn’t be happy about this—as if I hadn’t already considered that.
“You have no right,” Mirabelle says, stopping to look down at me. Tom lingers a few feet away, dressed casually to avoid drawing attention to himself, but nice enough to still look like he belongs.
I rest my elbows on my knees, trying to keep from escalating the situation. “He’s here to look out for you. There’s no harm in it.”
“I—he—you—” She scrambles to find the right words, and I think I’ve broken her. Mirabelle inhales, pressing her fingers to her temples before speaking a full sentence. “I’m so fucking mad at you.”
I can’t help it. I smile.
Mirabelle narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you smiling? This isn’t funny.”
“It kinda is. You look cute,” I say, and Mira looks behind me at Crosby.
“Do you think this is funny?” she asks him, and I can only imagine the look on his face.
“Well, ma’am, I don’t know the situation so I’m afraid I can’t answer whether it’s funny or not,” he answers, sounding more professional than I’ve ever heard him. I turn back to him, raising my eyebrows.
“ Ma’am? You’re weak. You can go up against three-hundred-pound men charging at you, but she scares you?” I ask, the words slipping out of my mouth. Actually, maybe I shouldn’t have just said that.
It feels like I have a gun trained at my head when I look at Mirabelle again, her expression has changed into one I can’t read. “No, Henry, you’re right. I’m not scary at all.” She leans down to press her lips against my cheek, and it feels like a kiss of death. “He’s fine for today, but get rid of him, Henry. Je te verrai plus tard. ” 37
I take it back.
I’m scared of her.
Mirabelle walks off, ignoring the bodyguard who is following behind her.
Crosby shakes his head at me, laughing. “You’re a dead man fucking walking if you think she isn’t scary.”
~
I got a call from Sebastian earlier, saying that he and Thalia were coming into town this afternoon to meet with the builders at their house, and they want to see us after. We’re supposed to get dinner at Mira’s favorite restaurant. I sent her a text earlier, but I never heard back. I haven’t seen Mirabelle either since she came into the weight room to put the fear of God into me. She succeeded too. Wilson’s car isn’t in the driveway, so I guess he’ll be spared the argument we’re probably about to have. Lucky him.
Bracing myself for the wildfire that’s surely going to incinerate me, I walk in the door, surprised not to hear a single sound from inside the calm house. That’s not an encouraging sign.
All the lights are on, and I set my things next to the door, punching in the alarm code to disable it. My cleaners came today, so the place is spotless—coincidentally, great timing with the Walkers coming. The back door is open, and the string lights around the patio and pool area are on.
Maybe she’s out there?
“Mirabelle?” I call out, fear starting to creep in. Where is Tom?
“I’m here, you don’t need to yell,” she says from behind me, and my jaw hits the floor. Her blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulders and down her back, over the jersey I immediately recognize as mine. Mirabelle’s long legs are on display, and I’m not sure where to look. “Excuse me,” Mirabelle says, tapping my arm for me to move. I think my jaw is broken because I’m incapable of picking it up off the floor.
She’s a walking dream.
I stumble out of the doorway, letting her walk past me, my eyes lingering on my last name across her back. I have never craved anyone the way I crave Mirabelle. The night of my birthday has been stuck on a loop in my head, the image of Mirabelle choking herself on my cock as she stared up at me with trust shining in her eyes, wearing tiny lace scraps as she had her fingers buried in her panties. It was entirely worth the shit I caught from Wilson and Andrew for leaving some of our clothes in the hallway, but this image is definitely being added to that loop.
“Is that my jersey?” I choke out, knowing damn well it is.
She looks back at me as she nears the edge of the pool. “Sorry, you can have it back.”
And then in one smooth motion, Mirabelle pulls off the jersey, dropping it in a pile on the ground as she dives into the heated pool, wearing nothing else.
“Fucking hell,” I curse under my breath, nearly tripping over my own feet as I pull my own clothes off to eagerly join her.
The warm water feels amazing on my sore muscles, and I take a few purposeful strokes toward Mirabelle as she treads water in the deep end. She skirts away playfully, staying out of my reach. She’s going to be the death of me. “Sorry, I’m swimming right now.” Mirabelle smiles at me, and the dots connect in my head.
“Is this because I hired Tom?”
She disappears under the water, only to pop up further away from me in the shallower end of the pool. “Did you tell him not to come back tomorrow?”
A short, incredulous laugh escapes me. “No. He’s for your own good.” Tom being with her gives me the peace of mind I need to know she’s okay.
“Oh? Then why didn’t you talk to me about it before you did it?” she counters, and I move to where I’m within arms reach of touching her because I can’t stay away. Now that I know what it’s like to be her person—to be the person Mirabelle Walker looks at like I’m the most amazing thing she’s ever seen—I’m powerless to resist her.
“Because you wouldn’t have listened to me about why you need him.”
Mirabelle raises an eyebrow. “You overstepped, Henry. You should have talked to me first.”
I look at her knowingly. “Would you have said yes if I’d talked to you first?”
“I don’t know, but at least I would have had a choice in the matter of who was going to be my shadow.”
Women hurt my brain. So, if I’m following, she’s not mad I hired Tom, it’s that I didn’t ask her?
“Tom’s there to help keep an eye out for you. Mirabelle, you’re a public figure, whether you like it or not, and I worry that something might happen. If you want me to look for someone else so you can help pick, then we can find someone else. My first call was to Sam so that you would have someone you were already comfortable with, but he wasn’t available. Tom is who Sam recommended because he agreed you might be in danger, but if you want someone else, we’ll get someone else.”
She trails her fingers through the water, contemplating what I’m offering. “Tom is fine,” she finally says, tilting her head.
I creep closer to her, resisting the urge to smile because maybe that means I’m not totally in the doghouse. “So you aren’t mad?”
“I didn’t say that,” Mirabelle says, her dark eyes twinkling under the lights.
The rippling water is distorting the curves of her body that I’m desperate to hold.
“How can I make it better?” I ask, only a foot away from her now.
Mirabelle bites her bottom lip as she thinks about it, but all I can think about is biting that damn lip myself. I stop, mere inches separating us as a flush starts to creep up her neck. She can pretend to be unbothered all she wants, but her body betrays her every time. She reaches out, gingerly tracing the ink on my arm, and Mirabelle’s touch burns, the feeling branded into my skin like another tattoo. I let her touch me, my cock painfully hard as I hold still, letting Mirabelle explore, dancing over the patterns leading to the back of my bicep. “What does this one mean? I’ve always wanted to know.”
“The story of Icarus is a reminder of maintaining harmony between freedom and hubris, because if you fly too high to the sun, you can lose everything in the blink of an eye. I guess I probably should have kept that in mind while biding my time, or we wouldn’t be in this fake relationship trying to revive my career.”
The false truth lingers in the air as her eyes slide to meet mine, but neither of us corrects it.
Mirabelle leans forward, reaching up to rest her hands around my neck, silently communicating what she wants as she parts her lips. I lean down, taking the invitation to kiss her as Mirabelle pulls herself up to wrap her legs around my waist.
Fuck, yes.
Her hands roam over my shoulders, up into my hair, pulling on the short strands as I blindly move until I have her pinned against the side of the pool. The water sloshes between us as Mirabelle rolls her hips, grinding her core against my erection trapped between us.
I wrap my free hand around her wet hair, forcing her head back to expose her neck as a breathy moan fills the air around us. “Mirabelle,” I whisper her beautiful name against her skin.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as I press my hips against hers, the slight sting of pain feeling like nothing compared to the utter agony I’m in, using every ounce of my strength to not drive into Mirabelle. I refuse to let our first time be in a pool. I want her spread out in front of me, a whimpering mess before I make love to her in a way that will make Mirabelle forget any man before me. “H-Henry, fuck .” Mirabelle moans my name like a prayer, and I abandon the spot on her neck that makes her gasp to fuse our mouths together again.
She smiles against my lips, somehow reaching between us to wrap her hand around my cock, applying pressure the same way I showed her the other night. Her thumb rubs over the sensitive head, causing me to bite down on her lip as my body jerks at the jolt of pleasure.
This woman drives me absolutely crazy.
I pull back, an apology already on the tip of my tongue as Mirabelle grins at me, pressing a hand to her mouth. “You bit me,” Mirabelle says in disbelief. “Is it bleeding?”
Oh shit, her phobia of blood. I untangle my hand from her hair, gently moving her hand away to see a small split in her lip, but it’s not bleeding. I exhale a shaky breath of relief. “No, it’s not bleeding. I’m sorry, are you okay?” I ask, feeling a little embarrassed by how quickly I got lost in the moment.
Mirabelle laughs. “I’m fine, just surprised.”
I smile, trying to recover by leaning down to press a sweet kiss to her lips, much different from the passionate ones.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, looking Mirabelle in the eyes. Her face lights up in curiosity, and she nods slowly.
“Of course I trust you.”
“Will you sit up here for me?” I ask, patting the concrete on both sides of Mirabelle, and her cheeks immediately flush red under the glow of the lights.
“Henry, I’m naked.”
I smile, highly aware of that detail. “I know. You were wearing my jersey before you took it off.” I’m drunk off kissing her that I’m not thinking rationally, blinded by Mirabelle and the way she makes my heart race in my chest. “Do you trust me, mon c?ur ?” I repeat, desperate to taste her on my tongue.
Mirabelle’s gaze is unwavering, despite the flush to her cheeks as she pushes herself up and onto the edge of the pool, exposing her beautiful curves to me. “Don’t look at me like that,” she says, a nervous laugh escaping from her mouth.
“Look at you like what?” I ask, resting my hand on her knee, rubbing my thumb back and forth reassuringly. There’s a small indent and I press a kiss to the scar, causing her to smile.
“You know exactly what you’re looking at me like.”
I nudge her legs apart easily, stepping between them, causing Mirabelle to inhale a sharp breath. Kissing the insides of her thighs, I work my way up slowly, listening in case she asks me to stop.
I glance up at Mirabelle before I reach the point of no return, because once I get a taste of her, I’m not stopping until she comes on my face, crossing those bonus points off on her list. “Is this okay?” I ask, watching as she nods her head, biting her lip in anticipation. “I need to hear you say it, Mira.”
“Yes, please.”
My next move has Mirabelle twisting her hands in my hair, gasping in that way that tells me exactly how much she likes it when I drag my tongue up her core. I listen for the sounds she makes as I suck and lick greedily, discerning what Mirabelle likes and what she doesn’t based on the way her legs start to shake and how tightly she grips my hair. I fucking love eating pussy, and the sounds she’s making are as addicting as she tastes.
“Yes, fuck, Henry ,” she chants as I suck her bundle of nerves, holding my head closely as she moans.
I can tell Mirabelle’s close based on the way she’s starting to twist underneath me, her breathing labored. “Please, more ,” she says, and I hold her in place, gripping her shaking thighs tightly while I flick my tongue quickly over her clit as she cries out incoherently.
I continue eating Mirabelle out through her orgasm, feeling awfully pleased with myself when she shrieks, removing her hands from my head. “Oh my god!”
I lift my head up, licking my lips to look at my girl in confusion to see her hands are covering her chest, her eyes wide in horror. What the hell is she looking at like that? I turn and my heart fucking stops in my chest as she slides into the pool, going under the water before I can react. It’s Wilson and her parents standing in the open French doors. Oh fuck. I forgot Mirabelle’s parents were coming over, and I’m pretty sure they just saw me give their daughter an orgasm.
Wilson coughs to keep from laughing, quickly redirecting her horrified parents into the house.
I’m dead. They’re actually going to murder me.
Mirabelle’s head pokes up from the water, hiding behind me. “What are they doing here?” she whispers frantically, her face flushed.
“I, uh . . . um . . . talked to them earlier? Bash said they were in town this afternoon to meet with the builders and they want to take us to dinner after,” I say, and she shoves my chest.
“You knew my parents were coming, and you didn’t tell me? What the fuck, Henry?”
I splash water on my face. “I know, I’m sorry. I sent you a text, but I forgot all about it when I saw you in my jersey, and then my brain was obviously elsewhere.”
“You never sent me a text. Holy shit, I can’t go in there,” Mirabelle says, shaking her head. “Henry, they saw you . . . you know!”
“Mira, we have to.”
Her face twists into a glare. “No. You have to. Go get some towels.”
“But I’m naked too,” I protest, and the look she gives me is kinda scary. “I’ll get some towels,” I offer.
“Good idea.”
Oh, I am such a dead man.
Whether it’s by the hand of Sebastian, Thalia, or their daughter, I don’t think I’m making it through this night unscathed.