Chapter 17 Bunny - Two Years Ago #2
My heart breaks when Bunny’s face crumples in fear. “You can’t!”
“It’ll be okay. I promise.” I turn away to make the call, fully aware it’s a promise I can’t keep. Everyone loves Bunny at the department, though. Between James and me, some of the senior staff already know her situation.
So I say a prayer to whoever’s listening and hope for the best.
“Fucking hell,” Phillip Keels breathes, taking in the scene. “She really did a number on him, didn’t she?”
“He did a fucking number on her. She looks okay, though. I don’t think she needs a hospital. Unless she wants to go,” Abigail James chimes in, stepping to Keels’ other side.
“This’ll be a mess to clean.”
“Simple. Burglary gone wrong. Remington already cleaned her up—there’s not much evidence she did it. We’ll say she didn’t know who to call.”
“People know what he was doing to her, James.”
I bristle just thinking about it. The fact that we knew what was going on, and that there wasn’t much we could do. The fact that the harder I tried to get Bunny to leave her husband, the more she pulled away from me.
I should’ve stopped it.
I should’ve been the one to kill him.
“She’s one of ours, Keels. I don’t care what we have to do—she’s not going away for this.” James sounds ashamed—for not stepping in when I went to her, for not noticing sooner, I don’t know.
“So we’re going to cover it up? She’ll be okay?” I exhale, relieved. I knew I could trust them. Ethically sound or not, I don’t care. It was self-defense.
“I don’t know if she’ll be okay. You should keep a close eye on her. We’ll give it a few days. She’ll need therapy and probably a long-ass time to heal.” James glances over her shoulder at Bunny, still immobile at the table.
“And a place to stay. We’ll get guys in here to clean this up.” Keels pulls out his phone to start rallying the troops, or so I assume.
“I’ll take her to my place. She’ll be most comfortable with me.”
They hum in agreement and start making calls. Bunny lifts her gaze when I approach, terror brightening the green in her eyes. She straightens in alert, but before she can speak, I shake my head and cradle her cheeks. “Everything’s okay. I told you—I got you.”
“You got me,” she repeats in a whisper, slumping back into the chair, relief washing over her features.
“Always, Little Rabbit. I’ll always catch you when you fall. I promise.”
By the time we reach my place, Bunny seems more herself. She even asks if we can grab pizza at her favorite spot down the block from my brownstone. It’s not the first time she’s been here in the last year, but it’s the first time nothing stands in the way of us being together.
It may seem fast, but I don’t give a fuck. The only obstacle to having her is gone. I don’t care how long she needs to heal. I don’t care how long until she’s ready for a relationship.
Bunny is finally mine.
But I’d be a total asshole to treat her as anything but delicate tonight.
Even if my dick jumps when she comes downstairs post-shower in one of my old department T-shirts.
“I could live in there.” She sighs dreamily as she sinks onto the sofa beside me. Not on the other side. Not even one cushion over. She sits so close our thighs press together, then leans forward to steal a pepperoni off a slice. “Seriously, you’re so lucky your mom left this place to you.”
My home’s been in the family for generations. Long paid off, I’ve updated it over the years. It’s more space than I need, but my mother gave it to me with hopes I’d fill the halls with another generation of Remingtons.
Another generation I want with Bunny.
“Thank you… for tonight,” she whispers, settling in. My shirt rides high on her thigh, and I realize she isn’t wearing the shorts I set out. Which means she’s either in just underwear… or bare.
The thought sends a ripple of lust through me, and my little rabbit seems to catch the scent. Unabashed, she lays her hand on my thigh and turns to face me.
“You finally get what you want, Hunter,” she rasps. Her fingers trail toward the bulge in my sweats, her eyes dropping to my mouth. She leans in, and it takes every ounce of willpower to stop her.
As long as I’ve dreamed of this, I cover her hand with mine. “I want you to be okay, Bunny. What happened tonight was… is… a lot. When this,” I gesture between us, “happens, I want it to be because you want it and you’re ready. Not because you’re trying to cope with a trauma.”
“Hunter, please,” she begs, swinging a leg to straddle my waist. “This is what I need right now. I need to stop thinking. Stop feeling.”
Her hands wrap around mine, small and warm as she slides them under the shirt to the tops of her thighs where they meet her hips. Heat roars through me.
Fuck me. She’s not wearing anything beneath the shirt.
My self-control is near snapping. I’ve kept it on a tight leash for so long where she’s concerned that half of me wants to say fuck it and give her what she wants.
But I’m a better man than her husband. I won’t take advantage.
As if she reads my thoughts, she dips and presses a chaste kiss to my lips.
Our first kiss.
I go rigid—everywhere. I’m trying to do the right thing.
But then her fingers curl around my cock over my sweats and it’s game over.
Pitching forward, I cradle her neck, careful of the bruises, and kiss her the way I’ve always wanted.
She mewls, and I swallow the sound, chasing her mouth, learning every inch.
She rocks against me, the movement shifting my thumb closer to her center. “Please, Hunter. Make me numb.”
“Fuck, Little Rabbit. The last thing I’m going to do is make you feel numb.” I slide my hand down, finding her already slick with want. A cry flies from her throat as her head tips back.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—Bunny in the throes of pleasure—and it’s all I want to see for the rest of my life.
“I’m going to make you feel everything.”
Sunlight filters through the window, casting a ray across my face and rousing me from sleep. With a groan, I stretch before reaching over for Bunny.
Her side of the bed is empty. The sheets are cold, like she’s been up a while.
I snap fully awake, tug on sweats, and head downstairs. “Bunny?”
A hot cup of coffee and snuggling my girl—before burying my face between her legs—sounds like the perfect way to spend the morning. Last night was the best of my life, and by the way I made Bunny come undone again and again, I’d say she had a good time too.
Only, she isn’t in the kitchen. She’s not in the living room, either. Her clothes are still on my bathroom floor, so she can’t be far.
I’m passing the front door to head back upstairs when I see it.
A white sheet taped to the heavy, carved wood.
My mouth pulls down, a sense of dread blossoms in my chest and limbs.
I peel the paper free and unfold it.
Two words in Bunny’s neat script.
I’m sorry.