Chapter 5
When it comes to Harris siblings, it’s hard to do anything significant without each other.
When one is honoured, we all celebrate with them.
When one hurts, we all feel the pain alongside them.
The support and the bond that we formed at a very young age is intense because of our upbringing.
We were parentless, so it was necessary to band together or we all would have turned out as complete head cases.
Well, more than we already are I should say.
So it takes a lot of convincing to get my brothers to go back to London.
I know they have football schedules that don’t allow them to be away, and I don’t want anyone missing matches just to watch me.
I tried to push Vi to go back with them for Rocky because Christmas is only a few days away, but she seems adamant on staying.
Probably to ensure Dad and I don’t kill each other.
After the CT scan, Dr. Howard said I needed to stay overnight for observation, but Sloan was released since her injuries are less severe.
I hated seeing her go, but she seemed to want to prepare her house for my arrival tomorrow, so I let the boys take her back to her house when they left.
The urgency I have to protect her is strong and not something I’ve ever experienced with anyone outside of my family.
It’s an unnerving feeling, so I ended up having my agent organise a security officer to watch over her house.
Sloan wasn’t happy about it at first, but I think the fact that I’m lying in a hospital bed made her less inclined to argue with me.
After a fitful night’s sleep with Vi and Dad sitting in chairs beside me all night, I’m finally released the next day.
We file into the car Dad rented and head toward Sloan’s address.
Her neighbourhood is similar to my father’s in Chigwell, which I notice seems to soothe him somehow.
That aggravates me further. He was harsh on Sloan last night and I don’t fucking know why.
But my head isn’t in the right place to deal with his belated, overprotective bullshit right now.
A few minutes later, we pull up behind the security car in front of Sloan’s home. The last time I was here wasn’t an overly positive experience, so my nerves are on edge.
Sloan rushes out her front door, obviously having been watching out the window for our arrival. I struggle a bit to get out of the car as nausea and dizziness overwhelm me. Dad has his arm around me in an instant, but I pull away from him in frustration.
“I’m fine. Just give me a minute,” I state, refusing his offer of an arm while leaning on the open car door.
“The doctor said you’d be dizzy, Gareth,” Dad’s gruff voice retorts. “Stop being stubborn and let me help. You don’t want to injure yourself further.”
“I just need a minute,” I snap harshly just as Sloan reaches us.
She offers a tight smile to my father, then holds her hand out to me. “Allow me?” she asks and tucks herself under my arm and wraps her arm around my waist. She feels good. Warm and soft, yet her touch is firm on me.
She whispers under her breath so only I can hear, “Don’t backtalk me, Harris. You may be injured, but I’m not opposed to spanking some sense into you.”
A surprising chuckle rolls through my body, and I can’t help but relish in it for a moment.
I’ve had so very little to feel good about in the last twenty-four hours, so Sloan speaking to me like normal is refreshing.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lean on her as she walks me toward the front door.
Dad and Vi come in behind me with a couple bags of clothes that Vi went out and bought for us all last night.
We step inside and the smell of food permeates my nose instantly. I do a quick survey of the space and note that Sloan’s house is so very Sloan. It’s bright and cheerful. It looks lived in.
Beside the front door is a clothing rack full of garment bags. To the left is a formal dining room with a table that’s covered in fabric and a couple of official-looking sewing machines stationed on either side.
“You have a beautiful home, Sloan,” Vi states excitedly, then points to the dining room table. “Is that where the magic happens?”
“My colleague, Freya, does most of the magic,” Sloan replies and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I don’t do a lot of designing. My business consists of personal shopping, merchandising, and tailoring, which Freya is amazing at.”
Suddenly, the sound of a door slams down the hallway. All of our heads snap toward the noise as I instinctively push Sloan back behind me, my entire body stiffening with alert.
“Yoo-hoo!” a female voice echoes down the hall. “It’s me!”
“That’s just Freya,” Sloan states as she places her hands on my arm and moves to stand beside me again. “We’re in the foyer!”
Seconds later, Freya’s form fills the hallway entry. She lifts her eyebrows at me with a smile. “Well, hiya, everyone!”
“Hi, Freya. You remember Gareth,” Sloan states.
“Of course!” Freya beams, her eyes unusually wide. “Nice to see you again. So bloody sorry to hear about what happened at your home. I hope the coppers catch the bastards who did that to you. I can’t imagine the state you all must be in.”
I nod and exhale, realising I’m still a bit tense from everything. The adrenaline rush hasn’t really allowed me to fully process all that’s happened yet. Clearing my throat, I reply, “Thanks, Freya. It’s nice to see you again. This is my father, Vaughn, and my sister, Vi.”
Freya turns her smile to both of them. “Oh yes, of course. I saw them in the waiting room at the hospital, but it’s nice to meet you both officially. Welcome!”
“Freya lives in the guest house out back,” Sloan explains and eyes me nervously. “We’re colleagues but more like family.”
“So you both work from here?” I ask as I glance into the dining room and realise that Freya is the flatmate Sloan has mentioned before.
Freya replies, “Indeedy, we do! I was just nipping in to get some work done, but I’ll put the kettle on and make us all some tea before lunch is ready. Nothing settles nerves like a good cup of tea.”
“Tea sounds lovely,” Vi says with a smile. “Can I help?”
“Of course! Mr. Harris, would you like to join us? You’re staying for lunch, right?”
My father looks to me in question, but Freya grabs his arm and pulls him down the hallway before he can argue. He’s completely out of his element. Hell, even I’m a bit out of my element. When the three of them are out of sight, I exhale with relief.
“How are you feeling? Do you want to sit down?” Sloan turns to point toward the living area. “I can turn the telly on. Or maybe that will hurt your head? If you just want to sit, I’ll go get you some tea.”
She takes a step to help me walk again, but without hesitation, I shove her over to the wall and crush my lips to hers. She lets out a tiny yelp of surprise, then softens against me as I cradle her face in my hands and press my body to hers.
Slowly, her lips part, allowing my tongue to dip in and taste her.
Really taste her. I’m smelly and in desperate need of a shower, but I don’t give a toss.
I need to feel her in my arms. Taste the sweetness of her lips.
Inhale the familiar scent of her that used to remind me of memories I’d long wanted to forget but somehow crave more than ever now.
I hold her tightly and let the realness of her sink completely into my groggy head.
In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve gone from feeling euphoric because she was by my side, to being turned on because she was going to give herself to me, to being terrified beyond belief because I thought I lost her.
I need to feel her in my arms and against my tongue to reassure myself that we’re still us.
We still make sense, even under the most horrid of circumstances.
Sloan’s hands wrap around my waist as our lips move against each other. It’s a soft, warm kiss. It’s familiar because she tastes the same, yet somehow it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
My dick thumps in my lounge pants, and I press my groin against her stomach so she knows the effect she’s having on me.
“Good God, Gareth,” she croaks, separating our lips and sagging into me. “I thought you were supposed to be injured.”
My lips drag up to her forehead as I tuck her head beneath my chin. “This is the best medicine I’ve received so far.”
She gazes up at me, her golden eyes wary as I finger her hair and glance at the bruise on her cheekbone that’s turned a dark shade of purple overnight. “That looks bloody painful.”
She glances up to the stitches on my temple that are covered by a clear waterproof bandage. “Yours looks worse.”
I shake my head. “Have I mentioned I’m going to kill those fuckers?”
She smiles. “No you won’t, because a pretty boy like you won’t last a day in prison.”
“Pretty boy?” I bark out a laugh. “I’ve been called many things, but pretty is not one of them.”
With a soft huff, she presses her head against my chest. “I’m glad you’re here,” she mumbles into my sweater.
“Me too.” I tighten my hold around her and look up toward the stairs. “Want to show me around?”
Her brow furrows slightly. “Like a tour?”
I nod. “Yes. I seem to recall you demanding a shirtless tour of my place, so this only seems fair.”
She flushes and pulls her lower lip between her teeth before replying, “Considering you’re concussed and your family is here, I think I’ll go ahead and keep my top on.”
I chuckle as she gestures around the main level and describes the rooms to me. She points down the hallway where there are two bedrooms and the kitchen. “Do you want to join them for some tea?” she asks, chewing her lower lip.
I shake my head. “Where do you sleep?”
“Upstairs,” she replies with a shy smile.
Oh, how I always love a shy Treacle. “Let’s see that room.”