The Con Artist (completed)

Part 3*

11.8k words

Harry was doing everything a good detective shouldn't be doing. He should have never walked up to you at Victory Park and he certainly shouldn't have approached you at the Warwick and then brought you back to his room. He shouldn't have kept you in his custody at all. He had nothing to keep you for. But he wasn't ready to give up yet. Oh, and there was the fact that that moment he was lapping at your breasts with your fingers in his hair. This was also a bad idea.

You arched your back upward pushing your ribcage into Harry and he moved his hands along your sides and over your nipples. He couldn't resist you which is why it was so frustrating when you were acting like a brat toward him because all he wanted was for you to be nice and easy. But you weren't easy. Nor were you nice and it drove him crazy. He was used to women being very eager and sweet toward him, throwing themselves at him even because they wanted him to see their best side. But you didn't care what Harry thought. Your attitude was infuriating but he liked the challenge of you.

Harry lowered his mouth and kissed downward to your belly button. You were still fully clothed, as was he, but he had your white t-shirt pushed up above your breasts with your bra pulled down so your tits were exposed.

But then as Harry brushed his mouth over your belly button he heard your stomach gurgle, which reminded him why you were in his motel room in the first place, and he suddenly realized with a bit more clarity that the situation had gotten out of hand. He pushed himself up and groaned. You were so pretty and so ready for him. He knew he could take this as far as you'd let him, and it seemed like you were more than ready for whatever he wanted. But he needed to remain strong.

He rubbed his hands over his face and then he felt your warm hand grasp his elbow. He opened his eyes and looked at you. You'd already pulled your shirt back down over your breasts and were sat up. You had a look of question on your face. It didn't make sense to you why he'd stopped. That wasn't something you were used to. It felt like rejection.

Harry lowered his hands from his face and frowned, "I'm sorry, Y/n. This is my fault and it's fucked up. This is not supposed to happen. We shouldn't be engaging like this. I'm responsible for everything here."

He got up from the bed and tilted his head back as he looked up at the ceiling and then he paced from the front door of the motel room to the bathroom door. Back and forth, hands on his hips and trying to work out in his head what he was going to do.

You watched him as he lifted his arms and bent them at the elbow and cradled the back of his head, still pacing. He was in distress. He'd busted up his own boundaries and fucked up the case. All because he couldn't control the dick-brain he got when he was around you.

"Okay... here's what we'll do," Harry lowered his arms and walked back toward the bed, but didn't sit down, "we'll leave now and go to your mom's, and then we'll head to LA. It's about 8 am so your mom should be awake, right?" He looked at you briefly before he began to pace again, not wanting to allow himself too much time to scan you and take you in with your messy hair, kiss-swollen lips, and flushed cheeks.

You nodded, "Yeah," you spoke in a soft voice. You didn't like this at all. Your brain was still confused about everything. About how you felt about the detective and what it meant that you were actually going back to LA with him.

Harry nodded and exhaled a deep breath, "Right. Okay. Well, let's get our things and get out of here. We'll go to the bar and get your car and I'll follow you to your mom's."

You stayed in Harry's car as he ran in to settle up for the night at the motel. Before he went into the office he pointed at you and gave you a warning, "I'll be watching you. Do not run. I will catch you. I run faster than you and can probably go for a lot longer than you. So don't even go there."