Bound | H.S.

Chapter 23

☆☆☆

Going to the toilet burnt like hell, and walking wasn't exactly comfortable either. I winced as I stepped back into the bedroom where Harry lay with his head propped up on his arm. He watched me. "Sore?"

I nodded, blushing. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

I lay down beside him. "I thought you might want to do it again, but I don't think I can."

Harry traced his fingertips over my ribs. "I know. I didn't expect you to be ready so soon." He rubbed my stomach, then inched a bit lower. "I could lick you if you are up for it."

My core tightened and I really wanted to say yes. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Harry nodded and settled back against the pillows. The blanket crowded around his hips, revealing his muscled torso and the scars there.

I moved closer and propped myself up above him. I traced Harry's scars, wondering what kind of stories hid behind each of them. I wanted to know all of them, wanted to figure out Harry scar by scar like a puzzle. Where did he get the long scar on his shoulder and the bullet wound below his ribs? Harry was doing his own exploring with his eyes, wandering over my breasts and face. He ran his thumb over my nipples. "Your breasts are fucking perfect." His touch was more possessive than sexual, but I could feel it all the way between my legs anyway.

Trying to distract myself, I paused with my fingertips against a mostly faded scar on his abs. "Where did you get this scar?"

"I was eleven." My eyes grew wide. I was pretty sure where the story was going. "The Famiglia wasn't as united as it is now. A few men thought they could grab power by killing my father and his sons. It was the middle of the night when I heard screaming and shooting. Before I could get out of bed, a man stepped into the room and pointed his gun at me. I knew I'd die as I stared into the barrel. I wasn't as scared as I thought I'd be. He would have killed me, if Alex hadn't jumped him from behind when he pulled the trigger. The bullet went a lot lower than it was supposed to and hit my middle. It hurt like a motherfucker. I was screaming and probably would have passed out if the man hadn't turned on Alex to kill him. I had a gun stashed in the drawer of my nightstand, took it out and put a bullet in the man's head before he could kill Alex."

"That was your first murder, right?" I whispered.

Harry's eyes, which had been lost in another time, focused on me. "Yeah. The first of many."

"When did you kill again?"

"That same night." He smiled humorlessly. "After that first man, I told Alex to hide in my closet. He protested but I was bigger and locked him in. By then I'd lost quite a bit of blood but I was high on adrenaline and could still hear shooting downstairs, so I headed for the noise with my gun. My father was in a shooting match with two attackers. I came down the stairs but nobody paid me any attention, and then I shot one of them from behind. My father took the other down with a shot in the shoulder."

"Why didn't he kill him?"

"He wanted to question him to find out if there were other traitors in the Famiglia left."

"So what did he do with the guy while he took you to the hospital?"

Harry gave me a wry look. I gasped. "Don't tell me he didn't take you."

"He called the Doc of the Famiglia, told me to put pressure on the wound and went ahead and started torturing the guy for information."

I couldn't believe a father would let his child suffer through pain and risk its life, so he could gather information.