Chapter Thirty-Two

C hapter Thirty-Two

A ndy

T oday was one of those games that made me proud to be able to lead the team I did. The past few months had seen some exhilarating highs and some devastating losses and our biggest struggle moving forward was consistency. Even though we won, we weren't playing the full match with the intensity we needed if we wanted to make finals, and as the captain, that needed to be my focus.

Whenever our opposition kicked a few early goals, we were easily discouraged, making sloppy mistakes and fumbling the ball when we should have regrouped and worked to chase them down. It was when things got tough at the three-quarter mark of the game, that it was on me to rally the boys to give the last bit of fuel in the tank. To encourage them to keep running even when they were near exhaustion.

Remember, we are not just playing for ourselves, but for each other . Trust your teammates and above all else, leave it all on the field. It's in these moments, when your back is to the ropes, that champions are made.

It was a concoction of all I stood for and I finished with it tonight before we took the field for the final quarter sensing they needed all the inspiration I could give them. I was their guide, on and off the field, and it was why tonight, regardless of the circumstances, I didn't get involved despite Jay's warning. I trusted my team and they needed to see that in words and actions.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Arna opened one eye, the picture of beauty as she lay next to me wrapped in my navy sheets.

"Why aren't you asleep?" I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, admiring the way her skin glistened in the moonlight shining through the open curtains of my bedroom. When I came out of the shower earlier, she was already fast asleep, which given how many margaritas she had at the club, was not surprising.

"Oh, man. I fell asleep, didn't I? Sorry." She shuffled over and rested her chin on my bare chest, yawning before closing her eyes again.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" I asked, my voice conveying the amusement I felt at her unintelligible words only moments ago.

She sat upright suddenly, the sheet falling to reveal her perfect tits.

"I do NOT talk in my sleep." She frowned, pouting in the most adorable way that I couldn't help but laugh. Reaching for her bottom lip, I traced my finger over it before trailing it down her neck and over her exposed breast.

She inhaled a quick breath at the same time her nipple peaked under my touch.

"You definitely do. I couldn't understand what you were saying though." I moved my hand to her other breast and kneaded as she closed her eyes, leaning into my touch.

"Do not." My cock twitched at the breathy moan accompanying her words, my touch affecting her as much as it did me.

"Lay down." I asserted. "And spread those fucking legs for me."

"I love when you use your captain's voice." She didn't look at me as she spoke, instead, pushing the sheet from her body and obeying.

"So fucking beautiful." I leaned over her, tracing circles on her body with my tongue, spending extra time on her taut nipples. She pressed her chest up into my mouth as her hands clenched the sheets and my cock throbbed, also desperate to touch her. "How did I go so long without you?"

Moving to kneel between her legs I rested my arms on either side of her head and kissed along her jaw, continuing down her neck until I again took each nipple in my mouth, one at a time, and tugged gently. She hissed, her hips pressing against me begging for more. Sleeping naked with her had its advantages but it also meant I wanted – needed – to be inside her at every opportunity, so sleep was rarely a priority.

"Andy." She pleaded, the sound like fucking gasoline on an already raging fire.

I rubbed myself against her, teasing her and myself simultaneously.

"So impatient. I'm not ready yet." I grumbled, resuming my trek down her body, before slowly grazing my tongue over her most sensitive part.

Her hips lifted towards my face and I smiled at how eager she always was. Tasting her flared a hunger I would never satisfy and I refused to let her rush me. Kissing her thighs, I used my hand to guide my tongue, allowing better access before slowly outlining her clit.

"Oh, fuck." She groaned and I felt her quiver with each flick of my tongue. I brought my hands under her and pulled her into my mouth, the scent of her arousal intoxicating, my dick now painfully hard.

"Please, Andy, I don't want to come until you are in me." I pumped two fingers inside of her, confirming she was now wet enough to take me, moving up her body slowly and lining my cock at her centre.

"You're my favourite midnight snack." I said as she curled her legs around me, forcing me inside her. "Fuckkkk, Arns." I bit, overwhelmed by her unexpected haste.

Her warmth, her tightness, the way she was made perfectly just for me was all-consuming. I huffed out a long breath, gathering some composure before I pulled out of her slowly and rammed back inside of her slick wetness.

"Oh, god, that feels so good." She panted and I felt my balls tighten.

"You love it when I'm rough, don't you?" I gritted and as expected she moaned.

I brought my lips to hers in a kiss that reeked of passion and seduction. Her hands were everywhere. My back, my face, tugging my hair as I mercilessly filled her over and over. There had never been a time in my life where I felt lost in someone like I did when I was with Arna. She was my own personal fire. Near impossible to hold onto or to pin down with her bubbly, vivacious personality and brilliant mind – but once you had her, she lit your entire world.

I explored every inch of skin I could reach, my hands moving from her arse, along the side of her waist, to her bouncing tits underneath me as I continued to thrust. She ignited every single one of my nerve endings in a way which equally aroused and terrified me.

"Open your eyes." I ordered. She was lost in the lust, her head thrown back, but I needed her with me. With only the moon illuminating the room, her eyes were piercing when she brought her gaze to meet my own.

"I'm close, Andy." My name on her lips almost sent me over the edge but I wanted to feel her lose herself on me first before I came.

"Fuck, your tight pussy feels so fucking good." Pushing up onto my knees, I lifted her legs against my chest and used my hand to give her clit more attention, simultaneously increasing the pace of my thrusts. She threw her head back again, her mouth opening as the sounds of her pleasure filled the room.

When she screamed my name for the final time, I submerged myself in her as deep as I could possibly be and came with such fierce intensity my vision went white and I knew this was it for me. She was it for me. There was nothing beyond the gratification of everything she was.

Our breaths mixed until I leisurely pulled out of her and rested on my elbows above her. I gifted kisses along her cheeks as she traced unknown shapes on my back with her nails. These moments in the dark, entwined as one in our rawest form of self, were underrated. There was something special in the unadulterated time where no one or nothing else mattered. Other than her sweet, sweet skin and the sincerity of her touch, taste and every word.

"Bravo, captain, bravo. Your second win of the night and I'm happy to have been your teammate."

I chuckled into her shoulder. I would never expect to find humour so soon after such an earth-shattering moment, but here she was soliciting peals of laughter without warning.

"I think I'm happy to just play doubles for this one. No team needed here thanks." I joked as Arna snickered, turning her head into the pillow beside her as I stood, heading for the bathroom. "Don't move."

I returned with a warm cloth and gently wiped her still swollen sex so she could comfortably sleep whenever she wanted. I scooted in alongside her warm body and pulled the sheet over us both to avoid the cool night air. Closing her eyes, she sighed contentedly, as she stroked my forearm.

"Truth or dare?" I asked spontaneously.

"Mmmmm, truth." She said, a small smile on her face.

"What made you want to be an editor?" I whispered, hungry to know everything I could about the Arna that existed before we met.

"Ooooh. Good question. Well, I guess, for as long as I can remember I've been a bibliophile." She adjusted herself so she was facing me with our bodies only inches apart.

"A what?"

"A bibliophile - like a book nerd." She clarified as she reached for my wrist, cuffing it with her fingers before continuing. "There were never many kids to play with and being an only child was sometimes lonely, so I would use my books to escape into another world. There is a specific beauty in taking the words of someone else and bringing them to life in your own mind. Authors can describe things however they want but the way we choose to see it will always be unique because we have the power to manipulate them to be whatever we wish them to be." I watched her face as she spoke, mesmerised by her honesty and the way she made something so simple, sound so beautiful.

"That is the true beauty of language, Andy. I mean, I've read a novel where a Pacific octopus befriends an elderly woman, helping her find the peace she has craved for so long. It is a gorgeous exploration of love, loss and grief. A story of how friendship transcends all barriers." She pushed up onto her elbow and I smiled at the way she was coming to life before me simply because I asked about something she so clearly loved.

"I've read stories about the love between so many. About dreams, pain, murder, psychological hurdles and otherworldly settings. People sit at their living room tables, Andy. They sit in libraries, on their lounges and even in their beds and they create these stories that we are fortunate enough to be able to read. Hard copy books, on our Kindles or even on our phones. How lucky we are and how amazing it is to be able to experience something new." She paused before rolling onto her back again and running a hand down her face as she lay staring at the ceiling. "That does not at all answer your question. Sorry." Her soft laugh echoed around the quiet room, ceasing only when I kissed her, unable to stop myself.

"You work with words." I said against her skin. "With the stories of others. It answers the question perfectly and I love your mind so damn much." I kissed her again before rolling onto my back too and reaching down to hold her hand which lay between us.

"The nostalgia of losing myself in some of the books I've read or articles I've edited – it's hard to describe. It's almost ineffable, you know. It crawls on your skin and penetrates the surface until it burrows itself in your bloodstream, coursing through your body as necessary as oxygen."

She shrugged and I stared at her with an awe which slowly materialised into a realisation that simmered through my chest and into my heart.

I loved her.

I was in love with her.

I was in love with a woman who worked for the media. Who had published an article on me and spoken only of kindness. Who made me laugh, surprised me constantly and cheered me on even though she probably couldn't tell you one rule of the game. The most interesting, beautiful and intelligent woman I had ever met. And I was the lucky son of a bitch who got to call her mine.

Instead of feeling a panic, it was a calm which finally lulled me into giving her a piece of me which I had kept buried for so long.

"I want to tell you a truth too, if that's okay?" I said, suddenly a little nervous.

She didn't answer, instead kissing me on the cheek, a silent sign of her encouragement.

"When I was first recruited to the Hearts I had a big debut season. I was a highly publicised draft pick and people were talking about me all the time. They were analysing my statistics and making predictions about what was to come for me. It meant plenty of cameras and microphones constantly in my face. As a twenty-year-old I did my best to humour them. To keep everyone happy even when it felt intrusive and confronting." She squeezed my hand lightly in an act of support and I tilted my head to face her.

"But it wasn't enough. They always had another question, wanted another photograph, made more guesses or comments about me as a player and then eventually as a person." Closing my eyes I felt her shift and when I looked at her, she was facing me entirely. There was no expectation or pressure to continue what I was saying, only an unspoken solidarity and surprisingly I found I wanted to give this to her. So, she understood why I was the way I was with the media. Why I was the way I was with her when we first met. But also, for myself. A burden shared…

"They were everywhere. They waited outside the field when we played a match, which was expected, but then they were there on training days too and then eventually outside my house." I took a deep breath as the memory of the unknown cars lining the hill outside my childhood home returned. The dark windows which I knew concealed cameras and phones, ready to record my family and I anytime we stepped foot outside the door.

"It was suffocating. I did my best to ignore them and the Hearts worked hard to have them removed. The police patrolled, moving them along, which would work for a short while. A night or two of peace and ease in finding parking at my own god damn house. But they always came back."

Arna ran her finger down my cheek before placing her hand firmly on my chest. No wonder I loved this woman. She was rock solid knowing exactly what I needed before I even did. I rolled entirely onto my side to face her and brought a hand up to hold hers, drawing on the strength she was affording. "One night Mum and Dad were heading out and she went to the clothesline to get something she wanted to wear." I paused, the anger, guilt and sadness washing through me as if it was only yesterday when I got the call from Dad.

"She took the jacket off the line and came face to face with a fucking journo, camera in hand trying to take photos of inside our house. He snapped photos right in her fucking face, the lights momentarily blinding her and she panicked, tripped and hit her head on the concrete when she tried to get away." Arna's hand flew to her open mouth, my chest immediately missing her warmth, but I nodded as I understood the horror in hearing this story for the first time.

"Yep. Luckily Dad heard her and flew outside. There were two of them and he made sure they were still there when the police arrived a short time later. Mum said she was okay, said it wasn't my fault, but they were there because of me." I paused, recalling the bright red and blue lights when I got home, the blood on the concrete outside where Mum fell and the resulting concussion.

"We moved houses not long after that. We sold the house I grew up in and where Dyl spent most of his childhood, because my mum didn't feel safe." I shook my head and shrugged apathetically.

"You blame yourself." Arna said matter of factly. "You think it's your fault that this happened. That's why you hate us so much." Her soft voice wasn't seeking clarification. She knew. She knew when Mum's cuts and bruises healed, the guilt never left me and now sat dormant like a second skin, ever-present and ready. "But that's on them, Andy. Not you. You can't carry everyone else's bullshit or it will bury you. What they did was illegal. That is not on you." She sat up, the vehemence clear in her words as she reached for my chin to ensure I was looking at her.

"Andy, you need to forgive yourself, because this is not your burden to bear." I studied her, the way her hands gently caressed my face while she waited patiently and it felt almost crazy that I hadn't told her sooner. Of course, she wasn't going to judge or ridicule. Because she wasn't them – she never had been.

Reaching out, I pulled her into me and kissed her deeply with gratitude, admiration and what I now knew was love and for the first time in a long time, or possibly ever, I felt entirely content.