Thirteen (Love by Numbers Book 4)

by E. S. Carter

  A breathy chuckle snaps my eyes from where we join, back up to her face. Her cheeks are flushed with desire, her eyes heavy-lidded, but her mouth is turned up in a smirk. “Pound into me Harry. I don’t want slow and steady; I want rough, hard and fast. I want to make you lose yourself in me, just like I feel lost in you.”

  My hips still, my cock twitching with the urge to do just what she said, I open my mouth to speak, but she stops me. “Yes, you said it all out loud, and yes, I want to be fucked. So please, don’t make me beg.”

  I slide back into her slowly, just to torment her and to take the focus off me as I can feel my cheeks burning up. My bloody mouth has got me into enough trouble.

  “Your bloody mouth is wicked but never trouble. Now, keep your promise, Harry David Brown and make me yours.” She gives me a shy but still filthy smile that runs through my veins and pools in my already eager cock, and I look down between her legs to watch as I withdraw once more.

  “You’re already mine.”

  The words leave my mouth, and I finally let go. Thrusting back in and silencing any more words from her pretty lips or my wandering tongue.

  The only sounds left between us are laboured breaths, deep moans and the slapping of my skin against hers as I take what is now mine.

  As she gives me all that she is.

  As we share what we both have.

  Two halves that seem broken but together repair.

  Tangled limbs, sweat-slicked skin, my Bunny Girl in my arms, her back pressed to my front and my arm wrapped around her waist holding her to me; this is my new version of heaven.

  There is no doubt that the girl in my arms belongs there. She belongs in my embrace. I tighten my hold on her as she drifts off. Questions rush through my mind about everything that’s happened today, about where we go from here, of how I can keep her, always. I take one last look at her slumbering form and realise she is not a question, with her there are no shortcomings or doubts. She is my answer and the questions all fade away.

  A soft snore from behind me, a firm blanket of heat covering me and a tight arm across my belly, inform me that Harry and I lie in the same position as we fell asleep.

  Contentment is like a soft blanket, covering me up and encouraging me to slumber more, but today is the day I put right one man’s wrongs.

  I can’t afford to stay cocooned, shut off from reality in the strong arms of the man still sleeping behind me. I need to be alert, prepared and ready to spill my guts and make sure Wayne isn’t around to do any further damage to the people I love.

  Last night Harry worshipped me. He adored my body and left no part of me untouched. He didn’t ignore my stump, didn’t recoil from my scarred flesh, nor did he make me feel like it was anything to be ashamed of. He made love to every inch of me and now I feel stronger than ever before.

  He gave me something back with his love-making; he fucked me like I wasn’t broken, but an irresistible, sexy and desired woman that he couldn’t keep his hands and tongue off, or his hard cock out of.

  It was an experience like I’ve never had before.

  I feel emboldened.

  I feel desired.

  I feel alive.

  I feel whole.

  It’s time to show some of the strength that Harry sees in me. It’s time to be the woman I’ve always aspired to be and not the weakling that hides behind acts of rebellion that never meant anything at all.

  I’ve faked my sass. I made everyone believe I didn’t care, that I was indestructible.

  Then I let one weak man break me.

  All that stops. Today.

  “I can hear you thinking from here. Turn that beautiful brain off and come canoodle with me some more.” Harry’s gruff, sleep thickened voice rumbles behind me, sending shivers over my heated skin and tingles erupt low in my belly.

  “Did you just say canoodle? Are we geriatrics now?” My voice is just as thick as his, only mine is more lust-addled than sleep, feeling his morning glory poking into my arse cheek as he lifts his hips forward to get even closer.

  “Does that feel like the Davidson of a geriatric?”

  I can’t help it, I giggle and push my arse back to grind against him. “No. No, that does not feel old and wrinkled, and it seems like it wants to do more than canoodle.”

  He groans and manoeuvres himself perfectly so his next thrust settles his hardness between my legs and slides against my bareness. If I just lifted my leg a little, I could let the next tilt of hips glide deep inside.

  I let out a long, audible groan and not one of desire. “Stop. As good as you feel and as much as I want to, we have to stop. I’ve only got an hour before I’m due at the police station. I have to get ready.” I make no attempt to move, and he leisurely pulls back and slides against me once more.

  “We’ve…” he exhales against my neck before gliding back and hitting the spot that makes my legs tremble.

  “We’ve what?” I ask on a breathy moan.

  “We’ve only got an hour until we have to leave. You’re not doing this alone, Lils. I’ll be there.”

  I still and moments later Harry lays me flat on my back, then rolls over on top of me. His weight there feels… right.

  “This isn’t your mess, Harry. I don’t want you caught up in my shit.”

  His grey eyes lock on mine as he tucks some errant hairs behind my ear.

  “I’m caught up in you, Lils. So don’t push me away, not after last night.”

  “Okay.” The word is barely whispered, but I know I’m agreeing to more than him just coming to the station with me. I’m agreeing to more of him, more of us.

  His handsome face breaks into a glorious smile; one I can’t help but return.

  “Stop encouraging me to canoodle with you, Bunny Girl. We don’t have time for any more of your dirty shenanigans.” With a swift smack to my arse, he jumps from the bed. He moves Ally-tastic so she rests right next to me, then leans down to place a sweet kiss on my lips.

  “I’ll shower in Nate’s room; you can use mine.”

  I attempt to deepen the kiss.

  “Nuh-uh, stop trying to tempt me, you vixen. This is why I’m showering in the other room. One night with me and now you’re insatiable.” He grins against my lips, letting his teasing words flow right into my mouth.

  “Get lost and go shower, or you may find this vixen turning into a bloodthirsty, cock hungry, vamp.”

  His whole body shivers, “God I love it when you talk dirty to me. Say cock again.”

  I smack him across the arm and wiggle out of his grasp. “Go and shower, Harry David Brown. Then when you’re done, make your girl a nice, hot, wet … cup of coffee. I need caffeine, pronto.”

  He chuckles, nips my lips once more and mumbles something that sounds like, “Oh, I’ll make you wet…” before heading out of the room.

  If possible, I grin even more. My smile carries me into the large ensuite shower room and then the magnitude of what I have to do today hits me.

  Today I’ll spill secrets I’m not supposed to know, and I’ll make sure the man I once thought I loved, pays for what he did to my sister.

  Less than an hour later we arrive at the police station, having been escorted there by the two officers that are still monitoring Harry’s building.

  The only information I manage to pry out of them on the journey over is that Wayne has yet to be found and my sister and parents are meeting us there.

  “Are you ready for this?” Harry’s voice snaps my attention back to him as we pull up outside the station. He hasn’t let go of my hand the entire journey, and I squeeze it tight, drawing strength from his presence.

  “As I’ll ever be.” I offer him a nervous smile, and he instantly sees through my façade.

  “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

  I take in a deep breath, not knowing if the words I’m about to say will hurt him. “I need to be the one to do that. It’s down to me not to let him hurt me again, and as much as I love your support, this is still
my fight.”

  He abruptly lets go of my hand and nervously rakes his fingers through his hair.

  “I… umm, made a call while you were in the shower. Please don’t be mad at me, I’m not trying to overstep my boundaries but I wanted to help, and I swear I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “Tell who? Who did you call?”

  His eyes search my face, “Jake. I called Jake. He’s sent one of his legal team over to meet us.”

  Woah. Hold your horses.

  He’s called his superstar best mate and told him about my sordid past, shared with him all the awful things that have happened in the last twenty-four hours.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Harry. This is nobody else’s business. I don’t appreciate you airing my dirty laundry to your mates, even in the name of help. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.” My words are filled with ice, and I see the physical effect they have when Harry blanches.

  Before I can take them back, my door is opened by one of the officers and I all but tumble from the car in my rush to get out.

  “Miss Tremere.” A well-dressed suit approaches with his hand outstretched. “Marcus Meade, I’m here to represent you today, and I’ve arranged a private interview room for us to chat before you give your statement. It’ll give me a chance to get up to speed on your case.”

  I look from his hand back up to his face. I can’t afford this bloke; he looks like he’s just stepped out of the law version of GQ magazine. I bet his shoes cost more than the monthly rent on my apartment.

  “Thanks for coming, Mr Meade, but I’m afraid I’m not looking for representation. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

  He drops his hand, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Jake said he had a feeling you’d refuse and thought H might spring this on you. He told me to tell you to think of me as a gift, one that you can’t refuse and is non-refundable.”

  Harry walks up beside me and tilts his chin in greeting, “Marcus.”

  I look from Marcus to Harry and back again, about to let the feisty Delilah refuse his offer of help. Then Harry wraps his hand around my waist and whispers in my ear, “I know you’re angry with me right now, I’m sorry for not talking this through with you but I want you to go in there with as much protection as possible. I want you to know that I’ve got your back, that my family has your back. This is the only way I can help you right now. Please don’t throw it back at me. You can be angry with me later, but right now, I need you to speak to Marcus.”

  I open my mouth to speak, and he silences me with the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had. “I told you I’m selfish, Lils. Do this for me?”

  How the fuck can I say no?

  He must sense my acceptance because he takes my hand in his and squeezes before saying to Marcus, “C’mon, old chap. Let’s see if this reputation of yours is worth the money you charge.”

  My stomach drops, “You’re not paying for this, are you?”

  He doesn’t answer, just leads me towards the building before I can protest further.

  “Harry.” I stop dead, digging my heels in the ground just before the entrance doors. “This is too much. I can’t let you.”

  He turns to face me, his grey eyes filled with sincerity. “It’s not costing me a penny, Lils. I bartered for Marcus’ services.”

  Confusion takes over, “Bartered?”

  He gives me a smug grin and pulls me towards the doors. “Yes, bartered. You and I owe Emma and Jake quite a few hours of babysitting time and trust me, those tight bastards will call in the favour plenty of times.”

  He steps through the door and holds it open for me, once again I stop dead.

  This man is like a breath of fresh air in a world where I was struggling to breathe.

  “Thank you.”

  He blinks once, and I think I see my future reflected in his eyes, then all too soon the moment is gone and he gives me a mischievous smirk, “Oh don’t worry, Bunny Girl. I’m already mentally compiling a list of ways that you can pay me back.”

  Funny bugger.

  I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “Do you mean blowjobs? Because I have to tell you, blowjobs are kind of like chocolate for me. I can’t just stop at one; I have to keep going and going and…”

  “Fuck. Did you just purposely talk dirty to me for payback reasons? In the middle of a cop shop, no less.”

  I cannot help the snort-giggle that breaks from my mouth.

  “Yes. Yes, I believe I did. I think you’ve forgotten who you’re playing with, Harry David Brown. I just wanted to make sure you remember how much I like these kinds of games.” And with that, I stride through the open door, laughing as Harry attempts to subtly rearrange the hard-on in his trousers, before jogging to catch up with me. He takes my hand in his once more and smiles a shit-eating grin.

  “Make Lilah snort in a cop shop. Mission completed.”

  At that, I snort-giggle again.

  Only Harry could make me feel lighter moments before I go and tell complete strangers things that I’ve never told anyone else.

  I’m about to admit to having information on dozens of illegal activities, and where I should be more nervous than I ever have before in my life, I’m not. I just feel safe.

  Alive.

  Whole.

  I didn’t sit in on Lilah’s interview with the Police, though not for lack of trying. I’d already heard enough in her debriefing with Marcus to know that if I ever lay eyes on Wayne again, I’ll be ripping him limb from limb and feeding his body parts to some hungry pigs at the city farm.

  No, Grunt. I’ll feed the fucker to Grunt the psychopathic goat.

  He subjected Lilah to years of psychological abuse. Belittling her, controlling her and finally using his fists to bend her to his will.

  Alongside that, he also used her to hide his criminal misdeeds. Everything from drug dealing, to weapons and finally pimping. The reason she stood up to him, in the end, was because he wanted her to turn a blind eye to his upcoming acquisition of underage girls, ones he planned on selling to the highest bidder. Girls that had been smuggled in from Eastern Europe by one of his ‘associates’. He told her it was just like selling weed or coke, the only difference being he was feeding richer men and their addiction was to something sweeter.

  Lilah had threatened to go to the police and that was the day he hit her so hard that she blacked out and woke up, naked and alone on the kitchen floor.

  It was the day she finally packed her bags and fled, taking proof of his activities with her as security. Evidence that she now planned to hand over to the police. When Marcus asked why she hadn’t come forward with the information sooner, she said it wasn’t because she was afraid of what Wayne would do to her, but more what the guys he worked with would do to her family.

  “If you think Wayne is a psychopath, you haven’t seen anything yet. The blokes he runs with make him look like a pussycat.”

  Marcus assured us that if the police attempted to press any charges against her, that he wouldn’t let them get very far. To which she replied: “I don’t care what happens to me. I was wrong not to come forward sooner and my sister paid for my mistake. I’m not that weak girl anymore. It’s time to bring Wayne down and the rest of them with him.”

  In that moment, she floored me.

  To have been so scared of someone for so long, to have had her life controlled so completely, from what she could wear, to what she could eat or who she could talk to, then to come through it not just stronger, but utterly badass, blew me away.

  So here I sit. In some small waiting room just off the main entrance of the station. I’m not alone, both of Lilah’s parents sit nervously waiting for their girls. They speak in hushed tones and I watch as her father comforts her mother constantly with small touches and tight squeezes.

  I make no attempt to intrude on their time. I’m too busy trying not to go out of my mind with worry, so I can only imagine how they must feel.

  I’m so consumed with my thoughts that I don’t feel some
one sitting down next to me until a soft hand lands on mine.

  I lift my eyes up to see ones identical to Lilah looking directly at me.

  “How are you doing, Harry?” Anita, Lilah’s mother, asks with genuine concern on her face. I look over to where she was sat only moments ago and notice we are now alone in the room. She follows my eyes and says, “David’s gone to the toilet, I think he needed a break from my worrying, in all honesty.”

  “You have a right to be worried. They’re your daughters and they should never have had to deal with all this.” I turn to look at her, “Neither should you.”

  Her hand squeezes mine gently and she gives me a small smile. “Twice we thought we’d lost her.”

  I furrow my brow, unsure of where this conversation is going.

  “Lilah was eighteen months old when she lost her leg. Both girls had been playing outside our holiday home and I watched her stumble, then cry out. This was nothing new, I mean toddlers fall over all the time, but when I scooped her up in my arms, I noticed a mark on her leg that I hadn’t seen that morning. I attributed it to her fall, kissed her boo-boo until she stopped crying then encouraged her to continue playing with her sister.”

  Her eyes become wet and she swallows down her emotions to carry on.

  “Later that night she came down with a fever, one we assumed was a typical childhood illness but because I was a bit of a worrier, even then, I told David I’d take her to the doctor the following morning to get it checked out. She became even more unwell overnight, but once the doctor checked her over, he said it was likely a virus and to try and keep her hydrated.”

  A single tear spills over her cheek, and she looks more like her daughters than ever.

  “I knew it was more than that, something felt wrong, but I took her home and hoped she would perk up soon. Within hours, the mark on her leg became larger and spread from just above her ankle to below her knee. Her temperature was raging and she was completely listless. I called David at work and asked him to come home and we rushed her to the hospital. We left Nicola with a neighbour and didn’t even kiss her goodbye; that’s how worried we were.”