Chapter 26
Gareth’s hands squeeze my bent knees as he slides his palms up my thighs until his thumbs tease my centre. “I’m going to kiss you here,” he husks and I nod adamantly, my hands stretched out on my bed as I willingly sacrifice myself to this powerful lion in front of me.
He lowers his mouth to my heat—the area of my body that’s pulsing with need.
His tongue flattens and swipes against my bundle of nerves, and my pelvis jerks in response.
He was away for seven days, attending England team training.
Now that he’s back, I’m like a sex addict getting my first fix. I can hardly control myself.
A low growl vibrates from his chest as he sucks me into his mouth and murmurs against my flesh, “Fuck, Sloan. You taste so good.”
I cry out from the delicious pressure and my hips involuntarily buck up into him.
His hands squeeze them, his fingers harshly digging in as he holds me down on the mattress to control the pleasure, the rhythm, the drive.
I repeatedly call out his name as he licks and teases and eventually plunges a finger deep inside of me, crooking it to hit the G-spot that I want to grind on over, and over, and over.
My orgasm is close. Too close.
I want this to last.
Quickly, I toss a leg over his shoulder and flip us on the bed so he’s on his back and his face is between my legs. I smile at his wide, ravenous eyes and grind on him for a beat before shimmying my way down his beautiful, naked body.
“Sloan,” Gareth states in a warning tone, clearly not pleased that I took his control away so soon.
With a naughty smile, I wrap my lips around his tip. His grunt of surprise is completely worth the spanking I know is coming my way later. I suck him back into my throat a few times, cupping his balls in my hand before releasing him from my lips with an audible pop.
He sits up and pulls me toward him until I’m positioned astride him.
I adjust myself and straighten before sinking down onto his wet, hard erection.
The resistance is minimal, but the tightness is intense.
I swirl my hips on him, stroking myself over his shaft as I take him inside of me so deep that I can feel the fullness in my belly.
Our eyes lock as I press my hands on his chest for balance and rock, and writhe, and move over top of him.
Gareth’s hands cup my breasts, rubbing and groping and rolling my nipples in his big, meaty paws.
He pinches them hard, and I yelp out in pain as a swirl of overstimulation creates a frenzy between us.
He slaps the side of my ass and begins pumping his hips up off the bed, thrusting into me hard and fast.
Topping from the bottom. The story of our lives.
Our breaths are loud and our moans are soft as we ride this wave of complete give and take all the way to a riotous climax.
And what a climax it is.
Moments later, we’re cleaned up, satiated, and back in my bed.
It’s been a little over a month since we made up at his dad’s house in London, and things have been good between us since.
More than good.
Gareth’s Man U season is complete, but he’s been travelling back and forth to London for England team training in preparation for the World Cup. He comes home to Manchester every chance he gets, though.
Going a week without seeing him was brutal.
Aside from missing Gareth, things have been calmer around here.
Steady. Callum is still doing what Callum does best, barely showing up for Sophia on his weekends.
Thankfully, Sophia seems to be handling the disappointment well.
She has nightly video chats with Gareth that I swear have her smiling in her sleep. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
Everything has been nice. Deliciously boring almost.
I’m just beginning to drift off to sleep, happy that Gareth is tucked in behind me again, when his voice cuts into the silence. “I think I’m going to retire from football.”
My eyes open. “Are you talking in your sleep?” I ask, turning my head to look back at him.
“No, I’m wide awake,” he husks and presses a lazy kiss on my shoulder. “I have one more year with Man U before my contract goes up for renewal. I think I want to retire then.”
I turn over to face him, the street light shining in the window, showcasing the deathly serious expression on his face.
“Gareth, be serious,” I reply, entwining my legs with his. “You can’t retire. You’re Gareth Harris. Team captain. Man U star. You’re leaving for Russia in two weeks to play for England. What would you do if you retired?”
“Nothing,” he replies with a shrug and leans in to kiss the tip of my nose. “My accountant tells me I’m quite wealthy, and I’ll have even more money when my Astbury house sells.”
His mention of the house where we were attacked brings a frown to my face.
“None of that,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the crinkle forming between my brows. “It was my decision to sell. I told you it has nothing to do with you never wanting to go back there. I just can’t shake the image of those people in my home on that security footage.”
I rest my hand on his cheek as I think back to how awful that night was and how far we’ve come. “Well, you’re not going to just sit around all day eating toffees. You’ll be bored out of your mind.”
He inhales deeply and rubs his hand aimlessly up and down my back. “You’re right. Doing nothing wouldn’t last. The truth is, I am thinking I can be more hands-on with the Kid Kickers program we’re opening in London.”
My body tenses at his mention of London. I already hate the amount of travelling he has to do for his World Cup training in London. Now he’s talking about spending more time there?
I clear my throat and force out an honest reply. “I think you’d be great with Kid Kickers in London.”
“You do?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “So you’d consider it?”
I frown up at him in the darkness. “Consider what?”
“Consider moving to London of course,” he replies and gives my back a squeeze.
“What?” My eyes fly wide. “You’d want me and Sophia to come?”
“Of course I would,” he states instantly.
“I wouldn’t go without you two. And since Sophia’s cancer scans came back clear last week, I don’t see what would stop us.
I know your work is here, but I also know that you’re capable of so much more.
London is the fashion capital of England, isn’t it?
There’s loads you can do there, I’m sure. ”
I bite my lip excitedly at the positively electric twinkle in his eyes. Gareth has been pushing me to make more time for my own designs. Maybe this is the kick I need to take things to the next level.
“Move to London.” I repeat the idea out loud to give it full life in my mind. “I’d consider it I suppose. Sophia would hate to leave her friends, but she’s young enough to make new ones. And she’d still get to see them when she comes back to visit Callum.”
“See? It can work. And all my family lives there, so Sophia can grow up with her cousins.”
“Cousins?” I giggle at his term. “I think you’re skipping a step there.”
“It’s all coming and you know it,” he retorts and kisses me on the lips with a smile. “We’re good, Sloan. You and I are so good.”
I exhale heavily and shake my head. This is madness. Complete and total madness. “Do you really want to give up football?”
“Yes!” he exclaims and cups my face in his hand to punctuate his reply. “I grew to love the game because of what it gave my family, but those reasons don’t exist anymore.”
I bite my lip and watch him curiously. “And what reasons exist for you to retire?”
“Two,” he replies, holding up his two Sophia-painted fingernails and trailing them down my bare shoulder.
He squeezes the side of my waist and adds, “I hate being away from you and Sophia, and I know my career will never top playing in a World Cup tournament with all of my brothers. The timing seems perfect for me to end on a high, don’t you think? ”
I inhale deeply and nuzzle my face against his chest, pressing my lips to the heartbeat drumming away beneath the skin. Steady, secure, and strong. Just like Gareth. “I’m with you in whatever you decide,” I murmur, unable to wipe the excited smile off my face.
He vibrates with a silent laugh. “You sure you don’t want to boss me around again? You were doing so well at it a few minutes ago.”
Two weeks later, Sophia’s smile is permanent as she stares down at a giant soccer-ball-shaped birthday cake with the entire Harris family pressed in all around her.
It’s a beautiful summer night at the weekly Harris Sunday night dinner in London. Except tonight is extra special because Sophia and I were both shocked when we walked into Vaughn’s backyard and everyone yelled “Surprise!”
The Harris family transformed the backyard into a pink birthday party wonderland for Sophia, complete with balloons, twinkling lights, a bouncy house, and a cotton candy machine, which I’m told is called candy floss in England.
Sophia is a happy little eight-year-old because she didn’t know she’d be getting two birthday parties this year.
A few days ago, I had a small pool-party at a hotel with a couple of her friends from school.
Callum and Callie even managed to show up, which made me wonder if Cal ever even broke up with her in the first place.
Not that I care. After the snotty remarks Callie makes to Sophia, I’m not about to warn a girl.
Honestly, the two seem perfect for each other.
They both showed up in fancy outfits, complained about the heat, and left twenty minutes later.
It’s clear that nothing will be changing there any time soon.
The candles glow on Sophia’s face as the sun begins to dip behind the trees. She struggles to shove her fluffy pink tutu under the picnic table as everyone sings “Happy Birthday” to her at the top of their lungs.