Thirteen (Love by Numbers Book 4) (17 page)

“I was going to wait until we’d eaten to have this talk, but I think it’s something that needs to be said now.” He looks from our joined hands to my face, then follows the shape of my thigh underneath the covers, until his eyes rest on the empty space where the rest of my leg should be.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me,” his words are soft yet his voice strong.

“I understand wanting to just be… you. Not a lesser version of yourself, or the you that you wish to be, but the you that makes you… whole, normal even.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my features devoid of emotion and when he looks back up to my face, I feel bad about my feeble attempt because he wears his feelings for all to see.

“When I look at you, I just see Lilah. The Lilah that took my breath away even when wearing a bunny costume, the Lilah I still wanted to see again, even after she took me to a gay biker bar,” he smiles wryly at me, “the Lilah who saved me from the goats of Satan.”

I can’t help but smile back. When he reminds me of all our encounters it sounds ridiculous.

His eyes leave mine for a second, and he gazes out the window before turning back to me, his face a mixture of agony and complete honesty.

“The thing is, I knew you were hiding something from me, and I let you. I let you because I know what it’s like to enjoy just being with someone without having to worry about being rejected because you’ve lost something.”

He looks back down at my leg, “You may feel less of a woman because of what you’ve lost, but let me tell you, you are
all
woman. Sexy, confident, funny…”

I feel myself blush at his words and he reaches out to touch my hot cheek with his fingertips.

“Don’t feel ashamed of who you are; you are
perfect.”

I am perfect.

No man has ever told me that before. Wayne told me I was a freak, that me and my stump deserved to be in a circus show. He said that I was ugly, that he struggled to get it up when he looked at me and that no other man would ever want to touch me.

When Harry looks at me, I feel none of those things. I feel wanted, desirable, alive… those were the feelings I didn’t want to lose.

“In the spirit of honesty, now that you know how I feel about you, I need to tell you something about me that makes me feel…less.” He breaks eye contact once more, again fixating on our joined hands and the motion of his thumb rubbing over my knuckles.

I want to tell him he can tell me anything, but I think the words need to come from him without prompt.

His thumb stops its movement and he slowly raises his head to look at me once more.

“I’m a testicular cancer survivor. Thirteen months in complete remission.”

I flip our hands over, wanting to grasp his more firmly and give him the comfort he’s freely offered me.

“That’s great news.” It is amazing news. I’ve heard so much about testicular cancer through things like
Movember
and I know it’s such a delicate topic for men.

He smiles but it’s fleeting. “Thanks. I… uh… well it came at a bit of a cost.” He motions to my stump, “A bit like surviving Meningitis did for you.”

I scrunch my forehead up in confusion, not understanding what he could have lost, until it dawns on me.

“You had to have one removed?”

“Both.” He looks away. “I had both testicles removed.”

I know exactly how he feels, then it dawns on me that maybe I don’t.

I didn’t lose, what in essence, makes me a woman. I lost a limb, one that can be replaced and has similar functionality. What he lost cannot be repaired with a prosthetic. Yes, the shape can, but not what I imagine they represent to a man; fertility, virility, manliness.

“I want to say that I know how you feel,” I squeeze his hand tightly, “but, in all honesty, I don’t.” I begin to rub my thumb over his knuckles just like he did to me a few moments ago. “What I will say is something a very cool, very wise and
very
handsome man said to me… Don’t feel ashamed of who you are, you are
perfect.”

His head whips around and he looks at me, like really
looks
at me.

“I hope you can wait for your food, Bunny Girl because if I don’t get to kiss you in the next few seconds, I may just lose my manhood. Seeing as you already know I’ve lost my nuts, you really don’t want to be a witness to any more of my emasculation.”

I tug his hand, pulling him towards me, “I only heard the word ‘kiss’ so less talking, more action.”

He leans forward, a twinkle in his eye, “Are you always so demanding?”

My exhaled ‘yes’ is lost in his mouth as he kisses me so completely, that I swear I feel it all the way to my toes, even the ones I lost.

This, right here, is what it feels like to be whole.

His tongue dances with mine, his lips so soft and warm that I want more. Always
more.

More lips, more licks, more nips, more shared breaths. More.

He places one last kiss on my bottom lip and I swear I whimper when his mouth leaves mine. His shuddery exhale as he slowly pulls away sends goosebumps over my skin when it hits my kiss-wet lips.

Hooded eyes meet mine, “That was…”

“Perfect.” I finish for him in breathy response.

His mouth quirks up, light twinkling behind his grey eyes, making the blue that frames his irises sparkle. “I was going to say hot, but perfect works much better.”

I lean in to instigate another perfect kiss and he chuckles, placing soft nips to my lips but never allowing the kiss to deepen.

“We have to eat, and by eat, I mean the food I’ve brought for you.”

“Not hungry, more kissing.” My raspy voice demands.

His laugh deepens, “If I go home with all this food uneaten, my mother might well disown me.”

I sharply pull away from his lips, “You got your mother to cook all this?”

He smirks, “If I said yes, would you think I’m a loser?”

My hesitancy seems to answer for me, and he shakes his head with a smile on his face, “Tut, tut, tut, Lilah. I never realised you were so judgemental.”

“I… I’m not, I didn’t say…” I try to rush out my denial but my tongue trips over the words.

He gets up and pushes the cart towards the bed. Locking eyes with me he pulls off the first cloche with a flourish, and I flick my eyes down to see what he’s revealed. Beneath the first large, silver dome is two toasted Paninis. Judging by the cheese running out of the sides, my guess is that they are tuna melts, my favourite.

Without waiting he removes the other cloche, and I spy two jumbo bags of
Quavers
, another favourite.

“I asked your sister what your favourite comfort food is.” He wears a shy smile, and my heart melts even more than the glorious cheese oozing out of my favourite sandwich.

I clear the frog in my throat, “What cake did you bring?”

He bends to pull out the domed glass covered cake. “Ah, well, this is where my mother helped.” He lifts the lid and stands there holding a Victoria sponge filled with fresh cream and strawberries, looking like all my wet dreams come true. I swear I begin to drool a little.

He mistakes my astonishment, mixed with a large dollop of horniness, as disappointment.

“I helped with the cream and cut all the strawberries; I’m not much of a baker… in fact, the attempt I made at baking looked more like a pancake, that’s why my mother stepped in. She wouldn’t allow me to turn up with ‘cake that looked like it had been run over by a bulldozer’, her words not mine.”

“Put the cake down.” The demand in my voice is clear.

Harry falters, looks down at the cake in shame, then replaces the lid and sets it back on the bottom shelf of the cart.

“Harry David Brown, I have a bit of a dilemma.”

The use of his full name causes his eyes to widen, and I have to force down a smile that wants to break free.

“Should I stuff my face with my favourite sandwich, followed by a slice of the most orgasmic looking cake I have ever seen, or should I get my fill of the man who brought me the most orgasmic cake I’ve ever seen?”

“I vote for the second option.” His deer in the headlights look has morphed into one of pure sin as he walks towards me, his intentions clear on his face.

“Oh goody, I didn’t miss the cake!” My twin calls out from the doorway, clapping her hands in glee and looking like a demented five-year-old. Harry stops, mid-stalk, and I grit my teeth as every muscle that was lax and inviting just a few moments ago, tenses at her poor timing.

As always, Nic is oblivious to the tension in the room, as she happily skips, yes I said skips, towards the cart full of food and wastes no time in finding the cake of my dreams, cutting a huge slice and promptly stuffing her face with the biggest bite possible.

“Oh, my, God. This is…” her eyes roll back into her head as she lets out a groan of satisfaction

“Orgasmic.” I lock eyes with Harry, who mouths “Rain check” before pulling the cart closer to me so I can help myself to the treats he’s brought.

“Well, I was going to say heavenly,” she pushes the cream that has escaped the side of her mouth, back to her lips with her thumb, “but orgasmic works too.”

Once Harry has handed me my sandwich and crisps, he places the cake of my dreams within easy reach and then bends to bestow me with a soft kiss on my forehead but I want more.

Nicola can watch if she wants but I’m taking his mouth.

I grasp the front of his shirt when he goes to move away, pull his head down towards mine and run my hand to the back of his neck, tickling the soft hair at his nape.

“I’m not good with rain checks.”

I kiss him with fervour, pouring all of my desire and frustration at being interrupted into the meeting of our lips.

He’s hesitant at first, trying to keep the kiss PG in front of our audience, but once the tip of my tongue touches his soft bottom lip, he surrenders. Matching my need and reaching up to cup my neck with his hands, tilting my head slightly to deepen our connection.

Neither of us stops, even with Nic’s very vocal protestations. Hell, the whole place could burn down, and I wouldn’t be able to stop even if I tried.

Harry has more self-control than me, and he slows down our kiss until our mouths still touch but no longer move.

I slowly blink and open my eyes to see his deep grey orbs reflecting the heat of mine.

“Enjoy your cake, Bunny Girl.”

He kisses the tip of my nose and then drops his hands. Chills break out across my skin from the loss of his touch.

“I’ll call back tomorrow for any leftovers,” he looks over at Nic, who is now on her second chunk of cake, “if there are any.”

One last peck is all I get along with the words, “Can’t wait for our next date”, which he whispers against my lips, causing them to tingle.

A quick salute to Nicola and he’s gone, leaving my room and taking all the air in it with him.

“Payback’s a bitch, huh?” or, at least, I think that’s what my twin says between mouthfuls of cake as I sit staring at the now closed door.

I drag my gaze from the last place I saw Harry and watch as she devours her third piece of cake.

“You turned up here, knowing Harry was visiting and had brought all this incredible food, interrupting our date for payback?”

She wipes her lips with the back of her hand, smearing strawberry jam and cream across her cheek. “Hey now, I gave you guys almost an hour of alone time, I couldn’t leave it any longer or I might have missed out on the cake.”

I narrow my eyes, about to rip her head off when I see out of the corner of my eye that she’s almost demolished over half of my orgasm cake.

“I swear on Clarabelle’s life, if you don’t put the lid back over that cake,
right now
, you’ll see payback on a scale that your innocent, virgin brain could never imagine.”

She swallows without chewing, and grimaces as the lump of cake goes down her throat whole. “I think this makes us even.”

“Oh no, sister dearest. This
does not
make us even. Even would be me paying a visit to Doctor Hottie, then ruining your first date with him,”

“But it wasn’t your first date!” She interrupts and I point my finger at her to halt her words. “As I was saying, ruin your first date, eat your orgasm cake and then interrupt a kiss that makes you feel alive right down to the tips of your toes.”

Her eyes widen, “He made you feel your toes?”

I nod my head.

“Both sets?”

I nod again.

Dramatically placing her hand over her heart, she says dreamily, “He’s your missing piece. He completes you.”

I’d normally roll my eyes at her rose-tinted version of love, but she’s right.

Harry completes me.

He’s my perfect.

“Oh, by the way, did you know that you have chocolate leaking out of your nipple?”

I look down at my ribbed, cotton vest and sure enough, my errant and long forgotten
Malteser
has left a perfect circle of chocolate right where my nipple is.