The Underdogs: The Complete Series

by Stewart , Kate

  Lance

  “Lance…” She moans my name, breathless. Gripping the back of her neck, I lean in, kissing her shoulders, buried to the root and grinding, doing my best to keep the sounds pouring from her. She’s been starving for me. It’s the best feeling of my life. I’ve never been this happy, and odds are this will be the highlight in my reel that sticks out the most. Harper is mine. At least for the time I have left. She saved her body, her heart for me. No one else has had her. It hurts, and it heals, and I can’t imagine how she’s feeling at my confession.

  I should have held out.

  I should have come for her sooner.

  Regret eats away at me as I lick the shell of her ear before sucking her lobe into my mouth. Her moan muffled by the fabric as I press into her from where I bent her on the couch. We haven’t made it long without using a condom since we gave in. We’re running out of time, but I refuse to focus on that. Instead, I thrust into her, gripping her curvy hips and relishing in the sight of my cock disappearing inside her. She grips the back of the couch, her head tilted, her silky blonde hair cresting off the smooth skin of her back.

  All I want to do is confess my love, pack her up, and bring her back to Texas with me. For now, I’ll steal time, and try to possess her the only way I know I can, in the place she kept for only me. Determined to bat away my own sin against her, I brand her with long, thorough strokes. I’ve never been able to truly voice how I feel the way I want to. The words I come up with would never be enough, but she deserves to hear some. Instead of confessing what’s on the edge of my tongue, I swallow it back and go dirty.

  “You look so good stretched on my cock.”

  Reaching around, I spread her and press a finger into her slick clit. Her back bows and her legs shake as I go impossibly deep. She detonates, tightening around me, her body convulsing in pleasure as her pants and grip drive me over the edge. I come, hard, pulling her upright and capturing her mouth as I pulse inside her. I kiss the hell out of her before pulling out and sweeping her into my arms. She buries her head in my chest, her skin heated, rose-colored from my touch.

  “Let’s shower.” I nuzzle her neck.

  “Mmm,” she murmurs back.

  “Got anything to eat?” I carry her toward the bathroom.

  “Sorry, I’ve been a shitty hostess.”

  “I would say you’ve been very receptive.”

  “Har, har.”

  “I mean,” I shrug with her in my arms, “your lover has returned.”

  “Has he?”

  There’s a question in her eyes we both know the answer to.

  “Today and tomorrow. Nothing else matters right now.”

  She smiles, and it lights up my heart. “We’ll order Chinese, like old times.”

  I set her down to start the water before I take inventory of her bathroom. “How much does this shoebox run you?”

  “Too much for not enough.”

  I nod. “I thought as much.”

  “As much as you hate it, I love it.”

  “I don’t hate it.”

  She lifts a skeptical brow. “Really?”

  “Not at all. I was just being an asshole. This city is interesting…alive.”

  “I agree.”

  We step inside the shower and barely fit. I chuckle. “Okay, this is going to be a test of wills.”

  She giggles, and the sound is music. “I can make it easy on you, shower quick and step out, or—” she takes a soapy hand and runs it down my cock. I’m already perking up, “—we can let the hot water run out. That’s about four minutes from now.”

  “That’s not long.”

  “Nope.”

  “Guess we better get to work.”

  “We both have very strong work ethics.”

  “Oh,” I grit through my teeth as she pumps me vigorously in her hand, “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Finally, we agree on something.”

  Not long after our shower, we’re devouring Shrimp Lo Mein in the best feature of her apartment, the window seat in her living room. Arms wrapped around her, she skillfully feeds me the soaked noodles with chopsticks and then stuffs her own mouth with the same mammoth bite.

  “You’re still a pig,” I chuckle as she forgoes my mouth, stuffing hers instead.

  “Yep.”

  “No shame.”

  “None. I work my ass off every day. When I stop dancing, I’ll deprive myself.”

  I hesitate because the conversation keeps leading to future talk. “Me first,” she says, setting down the container. “I picture a grand church, lined with large pillars with high arches hovering above. White roses showing little greenery everywhere. Everything white. All of my family and friends gathered. The perfect music.”

  “Are we really doing this?”

  “Yes.”

  She lifts the box along with the chopsticks to my mouth, and I take the noodles eagerly. “It’s so beautiful, right?” She nods toward the snowdrift falling outside the window next to us, both blanketing and shielding us from the world outside. When I pictured coming here, a night like this is more than I could have ever hoped for.

  “Absolutely.”

  She hands me the container and stands. She has on a long sweater and thick socks, no panties. That was my stipulation for her getting dressed. She didn’t put up much of a fight.

  “I’m going to go grab some wine while you think about what you want.”

  “It’s Christmas, and we’re talking about our funerals.”

  “Play along, Prescott.”

  “Fine.”

  She saunters to the kitchen, and I stay put. The last few hours have been bliss, but I’m tired. I will much needed sleep away because I’m afraid to close my eyes.

  I hear a little conversation as she opens a drawer and uncorks a bottle.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Shut up. Okay, you were right. Whatever. Is Ricky home? So, you’re not alone? Good. I love you too. See you tomorrow night? Merry Christmas. Rainbows.”

  “René calling?” I ask, staring down the window at a surprisingly calm New York.

  “Yes, he’s just checking on us, making sure we haven’t killed each other. I didn’t even ask, do you like wine?”

  Regret weighs heavy on me. As much as we do know about the other, we don’t know simple things, everyday things that a couple would know if they were able to be together publicly. The irony is we don’t have to hide anymore, and we haven’t had long to take advantage of it.

  “It’s not my drink of choice, but I’ll drink some.”

  “What do you drink?”

  “Beer or whiskey.”

  “Huh.”

  “Yep. So, can I ask why you end your calls with him with rainbows? I was always curious when we were together but never asked.”

  “Yeah, it’s nothing he wouldn’t share. He got caught kissing a boy at dance camp, and it outed him early. We were eleven. He was mortified. His parents were called in.” She shakes her head behind the counter, pulling two glasses from the cabinet. “Can you imagine? He was destroyed. One of the camp counselors—who was a pastor—called him an abomination, but there was another who stood up to him and told him he had no place preaching or speaking of love when he didn’t understand the meaning of it.”

  “That’s cool.”

  She walks toward me with two glasses in one hand and the uncorked bottle. “It was pretty spectacular the way he came in and consoled him. That counselor didn’t leave his side or mine all night because I wasn’t about to abandon René as distraught as he was. He talked him off the ledge. To this day, I think he saved his life, just by being there for him. I mean, I was there, but I wasn’t an adult, so I think it meant a lot more to René coming from someone with more authority. He told him that as stormy and horrible as this time would be, there’s always going to be that time after, that promise of a flipside, a rainbow moment that will make the trials worth it.” She hands me a glass and pours. “So, no matter what we go through together, we just remind ea
ch other of that horrible day and that there’s a flip side. Rainbows.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “We’ve been inseparable since.”

  “He’s good to you.”

  “One of the absolute best people on this planet.”

  “I’m glad you have him.”

  “I thank God every day.” She smirks. “You know he’ll be home tomorrow night, and I would love it if you let him meet you. Like really meet you.”

  “I’m cool with that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Why, did you think I’d be a dick about it?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve never talked about it.”

  “I’m not that asshole.” I take the glass she offers me with one hand while running an appreciative hand over her ass with the other before pulling her back into my lap. “Love who you want, fuck who you want, as long as it’s not Harper Elliot.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cheers.” We clink glasses, and I take a sip.

  She elbows me. “Your turn.”

  “Harper, come on. I can think of a thousand other things I’d rather discuss.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re a pushy little chick.”

  She grinds her ass into me, and I groan. “Don’t start nothing, won’t be nothing.”

  “Mmm. Let’s get drunk and have drunk sex. I’ve never had it.”

  “Fine with me, baby,” I lean in and kiss her neck.

  “Is it better?”

  “No, it’s sloppier, but your inhibitions go straight out the window. It can be fun.”

  “Well, then, drink up.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You love it.”

  “I do.”

  “Funeral, Prescott.”

  “Jesus, fine. Bury me.”

  “Wow. Impressive.”

  “Next to my parents.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “On the ranch.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “And my wife.”

  She nods solemnly.

  “Is this depressing enough yet?”

  “When René plays this game, it’s a lot more fun. Elton John is there, and drag queens are pallbearers.”

  “Now that’s a funeral I’d go to.” I sip more wine, and my blood starts to heat. “Damn, is this strong?”

  “A little. You feeling it already, lightweight?”

  “I’m just…warm all over.”

  “Nice,” she says with a giggle. “Are you a mean drunk?”

  “Not tonight,” I say, pushing blonde strands away from her shoulders.

  She hops out of my lap and takes the other side of the seat to face me. “I want to look at you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a long time. You look good.”

  “So do you.”

  She sips her wine and looks at me wistfully. “Can you believe how far we’ve come since that day at the gym? I mean, we talked about me dancing here in New York and you going pro as a fighter, but now we’re actually living it.”

  “If it weren’t for you, I don’t have any idea what I’d be doing.”

  “That’s not true. You already had that inkling. You were boxing again. It would have come to you even if I hadn’t hit you over the head with Tony.”

  “He’s great, Harper, as far as trainers go. He’s got me with an agent. I signed the contract on the plane here.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “I’m going to make some real money on this fight. Not enough to make me rich but enough to keep the ranch going for months.”

  “When do you get a title shot?”

  “Depends on how I do. There’s a lot to it.”

  “You’ll get there, I know it.”

  I shake my head. “You have that much faith, huh?”

  “Yeah, I do. You’re going to be incredible.”

  “You dance for a living. That’s incredible.”

  She nods with a smile. “To us.” We clink glasses.

  “We’re mighty full of ourselves tonight,” I say with a grin.

  “When you work your asses off like we do, aren’t we allowed to have a little pride?”

  “Sure.”

  “We can be humble tomorrow and thankful tonight, but we can admit our status: badasses.”

  “Speaking of,” I hop off the seat, still clad in my boxers and drain my glass before setting it down. Pulling my jeans from the floor, I pull out the box and make my way back to her.

  “What’s this?”

  I place the box in her hand. “I saw it in the window on one of my runs.”

  “I didn’t get you anything.”

  “You didn’t have time between taking my head off and handing me my nuts.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  Her chin wobbles as she opens the box, and I weigh her reaction.

  “It’s…” She lifts the platinum and embarrassingly small ruby necklace from the box.

  “A rose. I know the star of the show gets them after a performance, right? So, since I can’t be at yours, I thought maybe if you wore this after, you would know I wanted to be the one to hand it to you.”

  “I’m never the star.”

  “But you are. You just got your first solo.”

  She lifts her hair as I take the necklace out and fasten it around her neck.

  Her eyes shimmer with tears as I take my seat across from her, and she cups the necklace in appreciation. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t cry.”

  “It’s the wine. It’s strong.”

  “Liar.”

  “Okay, it’s because it’s the perfect gift.” A tear glides down her cheek as her eyes bore into mine. “I still love you, Lance.”

  Her confession steals my breath, striking deep. She leans over and kisses me.

  “Jesus, Harper,” I murmur before deepening the kiss, tasting her regret. Her words mixed with the salt dissolving on my tongue light me up with the hope I’ve been desperate for.

  She pulls away and palms my jaw. “I feel bad, I got you nothing.”

  “That can be rectified.”

  She raises a suspicious brow. “Is this an ass thing?”

  “No,” I lift the word with my chuckle. “But is that on the table?”

  She slaps at my chest. “Absolutely not!”

  “Okay, okay, doesn’t hurt to ask.”

  She smirks. “I might consider it.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure, if I can do it to you first.”

  “Shit,” I shiver. “We’re good.”

  “Hey, that’s where your G spot is, René says—”

  “That’s enough, Harper.”

  “Good.”

  “Fine.”

  We share a laugh.

  “Now, what is it you want, my grumpy boxer?”

  I pour some more wine in both our glasses. “I want you to dance for me.”

  “What?”

  “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you dance. I mean I’ve watched clips but—”

  She palms my jaw. “Say no more. You want me to do it now?”

  “Can’t think of a better time.”

  This excites her. She tosses back her glass and hands it to me.

  “Okay, what are you thinking? Fast and furious or,” she waggles her brows, “slow and sexy?”

  “How about your number in the show?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Hell yes.”

  “Okay,” she jumps up from the window seat, her face animated. “You know I told you it’s called Retro, right?” She makes quick work of connecting her phone to the large set of speakers in the room before pushing her coffee table out of the way. It’s the only large room in the apartment, which I can now see had to be the selling point.

  “Okay, so we all got 80s movie theme songs to dance to.”

  “Yeah? What’s yours?”

  “It’s the “Lov
e Theme from St. Elmo’s Fire.” Have you heard of it?”

  “Nope.”

  “I hadn’t either, but I loved it. Oh shit, I need some panties on.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “That’ll be just way too graphic, even for us, Prescott.”

  “Fine. Five-minute pass.”

  “You’re such a twisted pervert.”

  “I haven’t seen or licked that pussy in two years. We’ve missed each other.”

  “Primitive indeed, geesh.”

  She disappears for a few seconds and comes back wearing shorts along with silky red ballerina shoes wrapped around her ankles.

  “We said nothing about the addition of clothing.”

  “Shut up, Prescott,” she says, stretching an arm across her chest, “do you want your present or not?”

  “I do. A lot less mouthy and much more naked.”

  “That’s after.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “The wine’s kicking in, and René told me how to give a proper blowjob.”

  “On with it,” I gesture impatiently with my hand. She throws her head back and laughs, and that’s the moment I know I will never love another woman in my life the way I love her.

  “So, this is a running song throughout the movie.”

  “Hence the title, “Love Theme Song.” I think I’ve got it.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she stands in the center of her living room, the sweater swallowing her as she does a few more stretches. “I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be, I promise to give you roses after.”

  “Even if I suck?”

  “Especially if you suck, but you won’t.”

  She shakes her limbs out at her sides, taps on her phone, and takes position a beat before violins sound throughout the living room.

  And then she begins to move…ripping my newly-content heart right out of my fucking chest.

  The only light in the space is from a streetlight through the window next to me, which casts shadows of the snowdrift behind her. Her dance intoxicating, she leaps and spins, her body fluid. She’s a master, her dancing weaving a story as she glides along the hardwood, not missing a single step. And she shines, God how she shines, her long angelic hair trailing behind her as if it’s all part of it, highlighting her strength, her grace.