Page 65 of Claiming His Bunny
I barely notice Ethan cleaning me with a warm washcloth. Then a scent of vanilla reaches my nose and hands slide down my thighs. I’m about to beg him for a few minutes—or hours—break, then I realize he’s not getting ready for another round. He’s giving me a massage, carefully rubbing my buttocks, thighs, and calves to alleviate any lingering discomfort.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, back to being sweet and caring.
“Um…no…?” I poke at my brain cells to wake them up, but they just give me the middle finger. “Nothing hurts. It was…wow.”
He chuckles again. “I have to agree. It was very fucking wow, and we’re going to do it again once you’ve rested a little.” I groan as he rolls me onto my stomach, my hips protesting the movement. “Maybe in a different position, though,” he adds. “Wouldn’t want you to be all sore tomorrow.”
Oh, I’ll be sore. Inside and out. But fuck if I care.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, because the next time I open my eyes, the room is submerged in near darkness, only faint streetlamp light filtering in through the windows.
I don’t want to move, but I need to pee, and something is ringing, the annoying sound not allowing me to fall back asleep. Ethan is wrapped around me like a vine, showing no sign of getting up. “Aren’t you going to pick that phone?” I ask, gently elbowing his ribs.
“Not my phone,” he grumbles. “It’s yours.”
“It’s not. Not my ringtone.”
With a sigh, he rolls onto his back. “Okay, it’s not your phone. It’s the clone of your phone I made. I changed the ringtone because I found it annoying.”
“The what of my phone?” I gawk at him. “Wait, so someone is calling me?”
“Mmm.” Ethan reaches on the bedside table and squints at the device. “At 11:34 p.m.”
A tremor of fear runs through me. A call this late can only mean bad news. Did something happen to my parents? My siblings? Amy? Before more terrifying thoughts can invade my mind, I snatch the phone from Ethan.
The screen shows a name I didn’t expect. What could Georgia Simpson possibly want at this hour? My finger hovers over the green button, but I hesitate. I’m still kidnapped, aren’t I? Maybe Ethan doesn’t trust me enough to let me talk to other people yet?
“May I?” I ask, gesturing to the phone.
“Of course,” Ethan replies immediately. Light fills the room as he turns on a lamp. “It’s the teen mom, isn’t it? She must be in trouble to call you this late.”
On another occasion, I’d let my heart flutter over the fact that he remembers my cases, but I’m too worried to ponder over it. He’s right. Georgia must be in trouble.
“Kayla Reynolds,” I answer the phone, my hearing immediately picking up desperate sobs. “Georgia? Georgia!”
“K-Kayla?”
Terror turns my insides to ice. “What happened, Georgia? Where’s Arya? Is she okay? Did she get hurt?”
“N-no. She…she’s gone.” Georgia hiccups and starts crying again.
“Gone?!” Only Ethan’s arm wrapped around my shoulders saves me from succumbing to panic. “Georgia, talk to me, please. Tell me what happened.”
“They-they took her. They came and took her. Said she’ll be better off. Better off without me. With them.” Words tumble out of her faster and faster. “They said—said I’m a bad mother. That they’ll be better. And they just took her and left. I cried and begged, but they wouldn’t listen. They wouldn’t listen!”
I shake my head, glancing at Ethan. He’s so close to me he’s heard every word, his features tightening into a menacing scowl, reminding me he’s a killer. A killer who hunts down people who hurt children. And right now, it looks like he might have a target nearby.
“Georgia, please, calm down,” I urge the sobbing girl. “Who did this? Who took Arya?”
“M-my parents!” Georgia cries out. “They said she deserves better. That they’ll make her theirs. Raise her. Raise her better than they raised me.”
I squeeze the phone so tightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t crack. Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck is wrong with those people? First, they kick their pregnant teenage daughter out on the streets and now they literally kidnap her baby? I think I’m going to punch someone before the night is over and it won’t be the serial killer who kidnapped me.
“Georgia. Georgia!” I raise my voice to get the girl’s attention. “Where are you? Are you at home?”
“Y-yes.”
I give Ethan a questioning look. I need to go to Georgia, to support her and help her resolve the situation. Not because it’s my job, but because I’m the only one the poor girl has, the only one she trusts. I can play Beauty and the Beast with Ethan later, but right now, I need him to let me go.
