Wade #3
“I need you, Wade,” she whispered against his lips. “Please.”
“You don’t need to fucking beg me, honey,” he growled. He watched as she grabbed his cock with her hands and guided it through her wet folds. She sank onto his lap inch by excruciating inch, and when she was fully seated, he let out his breath.
Harlow moaned, and he grabbed handfuls of her luscious ass. “Move for me, baby,” he ordered. She did as he asked, and he knew that he wouldn’t last long.
“You feel so good, Wade,” she whispered, framing his face with her hands. He pumped into her body with a new fury, and when she cried out his name, he knew that he wouldn’t take long to follow her over.
He pumped in and out of her body while she kissed him.
Her breasts were rubbing against his chest, and when he couldn’t take any more, he lost himself inside of her, whispering her name like a prayer.
She was his, whether she knew it or not now, and that worked for him because he wanted Harlow more than he’d ever wanted anyone.
They collapsed together on the bed, and Harlow curled against his side, as he tugged the blankets over them both. Wade stared at the ceiling, and he knew that neither of them was going to get any sleep tonight—not that he regretted a fucking second of it.
Harlow's head rested against his chest; one arm draped across his stomach. Her breathing had finally slowed. Wade ran his fingers gently through her hair. “You awake?”
“No,” she breathed.
His mouth twitched. “Good.”
“Are you?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“Liar,” she breathed.
“Go to sleep,” he ordered. She shifted closer, and Wade tightened his arm around her. For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Harlow broke the silence. “Do you regret it?”
Wade looked down at her. “Not even a little.”
“Good,” she breathed.
“Do you?” he asked.
She lifted her head. “No.” Something in his chest loosened as Harlow studied him.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said.
“You're doing the thing,” she said.
“What thing?” he asked.
“Thinking too loudly,” she breathed.
He snorted. “Didn't know that was possible.”
“With you, apparently, it is,” she said. Harlow rested her chin against his chest. “What are you thinking about?”
Wade considered lying, but he didn't. “I’m thinking about tomorrow.”
Her expression changed. “Me too.”
“I need you to do something for me,” he said.
“That sounds suspiciously like you're about to get bossy,” she chided.
“Probably.” She sighed dramatically. “Fine. What?”
“Stay at the clubhouse,” he ordered. Her eyes narrowed at him, and he knew that she was thinking over his request. “Harlow.”
“I heard you,” she assured.
“No following us,” he insisted.
“I wasn't planning to,” she said.
“No sneaking out,” he continued.
She looked offended. “I don't sneak.”
“You climbed out a bathroom window in a wedding dress. I’m pretty sure that counts as sneaking,” he insisted.
“That was escaping. It’s completely different,” she said. Wade laughed, and she smiled.
Then he grew serious. “Promise me.”
Her smile faded. “Wade—”
“I need to know you're safe,” he said.
“You can't know that,” she insisted.
“All right, I need to know that you’re safer than if you're with us,” he said. She stared at him, and Wade brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I can't be worrying about you when we go into that warehouse.”
Understanding flickered in her eyes. “You'd be distracted.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, “I would be.”
“And that could get you hurt,” she finished for him. “Or somebody else.” Harlow was quiet, and then she nodded. “I'll stay at the clubhouse. I promise.”
Relief moved through him. “Thank you.”
“But you have to do something for me,” she said.
“What?” he asked.
“Come back to me,” she whispered.
His chest tightened. “Harlow.”
“I know you can't promise me that, but I need you to try,” she said, as she lowered her head to his chest. “Just do everything you can.”
Wade kissed the top of her head. “That I can promise.” She nodded, and a few minutes later, her breathing changed as it slowed and deepened.
She was finally asleep. Wade should've done the same, but instead, he lay there holding her.
Tomorrow, he would walk into a warehouse filled with armed men.
They had women to bring home, along with Sarah, if she was still there.
And somewhere behind all of it were Frank Donnelly and Richard Kane.
Wade didn't know how deep either man was involved.
He didn't know how many people they owned, or how ugly this was going to get.
But he knew one thing—Harlow was done being their property.
She wasn't Frank's bride. She wasn't Richard Kane's bargaining chip, and she sure as fuck wasn't inventory.
She was the stubborn woman asleep on Wade's chest. She was the woman who had invaded his bar, his house, his bed, and apparently every fucking thought in his head.
Wade looked down at her and Harlow stirred. Her arm tightened around him, and he smiled. Yeah, Butcher had been right from the beginning—Wade was fucked. The difference was that now, he was pretty damn sure he wanted to be.