I let an uncomprehending laugh slip out of my mouth, “Do you honestly think you’re capable of that?” I ask.
“For you, I would try anything,” Harrison tells me, “I have to go to your father and brother. I have to tell them, somehow, that I’m not what they see me as. They have to know that I’m a good person. Beneath the boozing and the smoking and the unfortunate chain of girlfriends in my wake is a man who wants to do the right thing. You can see that, Siena. Now I just need to make them see it, too.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” I ask.
“I managed to charm you, didn’t I?” he grins, “Maybe all the Ferrelli’s will be susceptible, in the end.”
“You didn’t charm me, asshole,” I smile back, “You were just yourself. I fell in love with you, but that doesn’t mean I tripped.”
“Tell me what I have to do to get them to like me,” Harrison urges, “Coach me. Help me to make them see.”
“And then, once they’re convinced, we’ll go public?” I ask.
“I think we’d better,” Harrison says, “But if your family’s already won over, it won’t be a scandal. It’ll be a human interest story.”
“Harrison Davies, you are full of surprises,” I say, a broad grin spreading across my face, “You’re really willing to put on a happy face and make nice with my brother?”
“I’ll do my best,” he says, “That’s all I can promise.”
“Then that’s all I’ll ask,” I tell him, bringing my hand to his sharp, stubbly chin.
He turns his head and plants his full lips against my palm. A snaking spark of sensation runs up my arm at once. Even the most chaste of kisses from Harrison sets me off. I turn my body toward his, pulling myself up until I’m looking straight into his gorgeous blue eyes. How I could ever tear this man from my life is beyond me.
“I was afraid you’d died,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his.
“Are you kidding?” he says gruffly, circling his strong arms around me, “What business would I have dying with you here? I’ve only just found you, Siena. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warn him.
“Fair enough,” he says, “Then how’s this? I’ll love you as long as I live. That’s something you can hold me to.”
I haven’t a single word of reply for so huge a phrase. The only thing left to do is kiss him. I run my hands through his sandy blonde hair, making sure not to graze his stitched-up skin. Slowly, gently, I bring my lips to his. His mouth meets mine, and we connect as we have so many times before. How many kisses have we shared in our few short weeks together? Hundreds? Thousands? And each one feels distinct, new, revolutionary.
A low groan rumbles through his chest as I let my tongue slide against his. The flavor of him dances across my taste buds, sending deep pangs of longing rippling through my core. I bear down, kissing him as deeply as I can.
“Easy Siena,” he breathes, holding tightly onto my hips, “I’m a little bit busted up, remember.”
“I’ll be careful,” I tell him, bringing my eager lips to his stubbly throat, “I promise. I just want to make you feel better.”
I close my lips against his neck, and feel his fingers grip my hips even tighter. My eyes dart toward the hospital room door, but there’s no one to be seen. Andy promised to keep watch, after all. There’s no one here but Harrison and me.
“Siena, what are you doing?” he asks as I slip under the hospital blanket beside him.
“Just relax,” I tell him.
“Will this hurt?” he asks, as I lay my hand against his thigh.
“Maybe,” I tell him, letting my touch wander up along his leg.
He keeps those brilliant blue eyes trained on me as my fingers brush against him, finally finding his manhood. I gasp as I feel that he’s grown hard just from kissing me. My fingers find their way around the surprising girth of him.
“You're insatiable,” I whisper, nibbling on his earlobe. “Here you are in the hospital, and still you can’t wait to have me again.”
“Can you blame me?” he groans, as I work my hand down the stiffening length of him.
“Not at all,” I say, pivoting on the bed.
I come to standing on my knees above him, keeping everything below our waists covered by the thick hospital blanket. But I don’t give up my grip on Harrison's manhood. I let my thumb glance against the tender of tip of him, feeling a shudder run through his entire body. His hands close around great fistfuls of bedding as I work him closer and closer to the edge.
“Am I hurting you?” I ask breathlessly, tightening my grip ever-so-slightly.
“Not at all,” he breathes, reaching for me.
His hands have my jeans unbuttoned in record time, and I lean over him, steadying myself with one hand as the other strokes him with abandon. He slips his strong hand down the front of my jeans, pushing aside the thin fabric of my panties. I stifle a cry as his fingers move against the wetness of me, sliding up inside of me at once.
We lock eyes as we send each other spinning up into the dizzying heights of bliss. I bring my lips to his once more, feeling his tongue slip into my mouth just as his fingers move within me. I want to feel as much of him as I can, everywhere.
As if reading my thoughts, Harrison moves his hand away and yanks me toward him. I plant my hands above his shoulders on the bed as he pulls me against him. My eyes close blissfully as his manhood parts the silky flesh between my legs, driving up inside of me where I want so badly to feel him. I lean back, taking him even further inside of me. My fingers bury themselves in my hair as we move together, slowly and gently. I have to fight not to let myself get too revved up by every pass. We have to go easy on each other now. The forced evenness of our lovemaking only serves to turn me on even more. I would stay here for hours, if I could.
I let my head fall backward as Harrison sinks deeper into me. Steadying myself on top of him, I force my eyes to focus. I have to keep my wits about me, even now. My gaze falls upon the far wall, just above the sink. For the briefest second my eyes linger there, and a bright, brief glare of light catches my attention. I can’t place the strange sight at first. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was...
A camera flash.
Chapter Twelve
Getting Him Back
I whip my head around wildly and freeze as my gaze locks onto the most unwelcome sight imaginable. There, framed in the narrow window of the hospital door, is a face I’ve never seen before: a young man, wearing a white coat and a broad grin, has a smart phone poised before the glass pane. The device is pointed straight at us, capturing Harrison and I in the act. For a moment, I’m too shocked to even move. I can’t take my eyes off the person who’s been making our lives a living hell for weeks. Stalking us. Setting us up to crash and burn.
“Siena?” Harrison says, placing a hand on my waist, “Baby, what—?”
Scrambling off of Harrison, I jab my finger toward the door. Harrison’s gaze follows, and his eyes turn to stone. I watch his strong jaw tighten furiously as he takes in the sight of our blackmailer, here in the flesh. I can feel his every muscle rallying, ready to go in pursuit of this horrible person. But I can’t let him do that.
He’s just gone through a terrible wreck. His body is more fragile than it’s ever been, and any little strain could put him out of even more races. Right now, this is up to me. I press Harrison’s shoulders back against the bed, forcing him to sit down as best I can. It isn’t easy, given the white hot fury pulsing through his every ripped muscle. Hurrying to dress myself, I come to standing and square my shoulders.
“You stay,” I tell Harrison, turning toward the door, “I’ve got this.”
As I look on, our personal paparazzo lowers his phone, looking smugly satisfied. He lifts a hand in a mocking wave, and dares to give me a little wink. That does it. I take off like a mad woman in pursuit of this douche bag. All glee drains from his face as I come flying at him, tearing across the h
ospital room like a bat out of hell. He disappears from the window, taking off down the hall. I wrench open the door and swing out into the hallway.
The man is booking it across the linoleum tile, his smartphone clutched in his greasy paw. His white coat whips behind him like a cloak. I wonder who he stole it from to get past Andy? At the mouth of the corridor, I see Harrison’s best friend keeping watch. Our blackmailer must have told him that he was a doctor. More like a gigantic fraud, not to mention a criminal.
“Andy!” I shout, racing after the photographer. “Andy, get him!”
The burly man turns toward the sound of my voice, just in time to take in the scene unfolding in the hallway. In a second, he understands. He places himself in the center of the hall, balling his hands into fists. He’s like a solid brick wall—there’s no way anyone’s getting past him. Our stalker panics at the sight of Andy, scuttling to a sloppy halt. But I’m not taking any chances, here. Not with this monster of a person.
I barrel on ahead toward him at full speed, lowering a shoulder. My entire weight slams into the guy as I tackle him onto the cold hard tile. His smartphone goes flying out of his grasp as I land on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the tile. The device slams against the wall, shattering into a dozen pieces. As the metal and plastic confetti from the broken phone scatters across the hall, I look down into the face of my own personal demon for the first time.
He’s just a kid. There’s barely even any peach fuzz on his baby soft cheeks. I’d guess that he’s about twenty years old, and even that’s a generous estimate. His tanned skin, brown eyes, and mop of messy curls remind me more of a boy band member than a conniving blackmailer. The white coat he sports is clearly too big for him, a shabby disguise at best. I’d almost feel sorry for the kid if he wasn’t wearing such an ugly, cocky look on his face.
“Who the hell are you?” I demand, as Andy comes running over to where I’ve got the kid pinned down.
“Just a man who’s trying to do his job,” the youngster replies. His English is a bit accented, but I can’t place the inflection. Something European, to be sure.
“You’re not a man,” I all but spit, “You’re just a kid. A kid who’s in way over his head, I might add. Do you have any idea who you’ve been messing with, here? What are you doing wrapped up in this bullshit?”
“Enjoying myself quite a bit, at the moment,” he says, daring to move his hips lustily against me.
I stand up sharply, disgusted. Andy takes the kid by the arm and wrenches him up to standing, pinning him none-too-gently against the wall. I stare at him, hands on my hips. It takes every ounce of willpower I possess not the clobber the kid for his insolence, but I refrain. We’ve already got a blackmailer on our hands. The last thing we need is an assault charge to really land us up shit’s creek.
“Who’s this louse?” I hear Harrison ask from down the hall.
I turn and see him making his way slowly toward us, still in his hospital gown. He’s moving slower than usual, clearly in pain at having stood up at all. I should have known he wouldn’t sit patiently as this asshole made a run for it. That’s certainly not in his makeup.
“I’m not entirely sure who he is,” I tell Harrison as he comes to stand beside me, “Right now, he just looks like some punk ass kid making trouble for the sake of it.”
“Give me a break,” the boy laughs, “If I was just some punk ass kid, you’d have no reason to come sprinting after me. Nice tackle, by the way. Your brother teach you that?”
“Don’t talk about my brother,” I warn him, “Who exactly do you think you are? You think that stalking people is funny? You think blackmail is something that the law is going to take lightly?”
“Which law, lady?” he laughs, “Last I checked, we’ve been in about ten different countries so far on this tournament. Are you really going to go through all that trouble to get me a slap on the wrist? Because that’s all I’ll get, and you know it. Those pictures of mine haven’t been published. I haven’t done anything seriously wrong.”
“You threatened us,” I spit, “You stalked us and tried your best to intimidate us.”
“Actually, my boss was the one who did most of the intimidating. I’m just trying to do the job I was hired for. Plain and simple. Surely you appreciate enterprise? Isn’t that what everyone wants of us millennials nowadays? You should be proud of me, if anything.”
“Who the hell are you working for?” Harrison asks, taking a menacing step toward the boy. Even injured, he’s an imposing mountain of a man.
“That’s not a very nice way of asking,” the boy says, clicking his tongue. I have to place my hand on Harrison’s chest to keep him from lunging at the blackmailer.
“Are you some kind of gossip blogger? Do you work for of those lame tabloid sites or something?” I ask.
“Don’t you think your romance would already be public is I was?” he counters.
“Then what the hell is your deal, mate?” Harrison growls, “What do you stand to gain from this bullshit?”
“Just some cash, really,” the boy shrugs, “I’m just a modest worker, Mr. Davies, looking to make an honest living.”
“Honest?” I scoff.
“You know what I mean,” the kid says.
“If you’re not a reporter,” Harrison goes on, “Are you with one of the advertisers? One of the teams? Or is this a personal vendetta?”
“Why would I ever tell you that?” the boy laughs, “It’s not like you’re going to come after me legally. That would be far too much of a headache for just about zero payoff. I’m not giving up the name of my employer, so you should just—”
“Harrison!” I scream, as my lover’s fist collides with the boy’s stomach with a nauseating thud.
“Tell us who you’re working for!” Harrison shouts, cocking his fist back again.
“You hit me!” the kid moans, gasping for air, held up only by Andy’s arm.
“You’re gonna get a lot worse than that if you don’t spill,” Harrison growls.
“That’s enough,” Andy warns, “You’re not doing us any good with that, Harrison. The kid’s not going to tell us who sent him.”
“Some sensible talk, finally,” the boy sniffs, “Now, would you mind getting your hands off me, you big lug?”
Andy shoves the photographer away from him, but we keep the boy nice and penned in between us. I’m not ready to let him walk away, not just yet. I glance toward Harrison and feel my stomach tighten as I see the look of shrouded pain on his face. That punch may have felt good to him in the moment, but he can’t be straining himself too much in his current condition. We don’t know how bad his injuries really are, after all. Any false move could turn his wreck into a disaster, even after the fact. He needs to take it easy and leave this to me—if only I could make that happen.
“I bet we can offer you more money than what you’re getting now,” I tell the boy, “That is, if you’d be willing to supply us with a name.”
“Siena!” Harrison hisses through gritted teeth, “We’re not giving him a cent!”
“There’s no way you can offer me more than what I’m raking in now,” the kid says, observing the shattered pieces of his phones ambivalently, “Shame I had to lose those photos, though. They would have been a nice touch.”
“Tell us what you want, then,” I say, “What’s it going to take for you to destroy those pictures and tell us who you’re working for?”
“You’re delusional,” he tells me, “You’re assuming that I’m secretly some good guy, looking to do my part for the world. News flash, lady. In real life, the bad guys come out on top. I’m in this for all the wrong reasons, and your sense of justice isn’t going to change my mind. So, if you’d kindly let me get on my way, I’d happily be going right now. Unless, that is, you have any other imaginary chips you’d like to try and throw at me? Maybe you can hit me again, give me a couple of black eyes to show off to the rest of the press?”
I stare wordlessly at the little t
werp, appalled. “Go then,” I tell him, taking a step back.
“What?” Harrison says, “We’re just going to let him walk out of here? I don’t even get to hit him again?”
“Not today,” I say, “He’s right. There’s nothing we can do to make him give up a name, or stop what he’s doing. You can’t fix nihilistic asshole, after all. But know this, kid. We will come out on top here. I don’t know who you’re working for, or what your boss’s game is, but we’re going to beat him at it. You just mark my words.”
“Whatever,” the kid says. “See you around, sexy weirdos.”
With a sickly smile, he shucks off his stolen coat and lets it fall to the floor. He whistles a little tune as he turns away from us, sauntering off down the hallway. He’s right that we can’t go after him right now, but with his totally illegal stalking and blackmailing, he’s just as helpless against us as we are against him. Neither side can act yet without bringing a whole mess of bullshit down on everyone involved.
“I’m so sorry,” Andy groans, shoving a hand through his hair, “I thought he was an intern or something. I shouldn’t have let him past.”
“You didn’t know,” I say, laying a hand on his arm, “It’s not like we were exactly making things easier on ourselves in there.”
“I so don’t want to hear about that right now,” Andy grumbles.
“I can’t believe we let him just walk out of here,” Harrison says, “That little bitch—”
“Shh...” I say, heading back down the hall, “Let’s at least talk about this inside, yeah? Did you hurt yourself, throwing that punch?”
“Maybe,” Harrison grumbles, holding onto his side, “But it was worth it.”
“We’ll see about that,” I say, wrapping an arm around his waist. He leans into me as we make our way back to his room. Despite the world of trouble we seem to be stuck in, I’m still so happy to support him, to figure out a way through this mess together.
Faster Deeper (Take Me...#2) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) Page 13