“We?” I ask, leaning up to look at him.
“Yes, we. Let’s go to Italy to celebrate your CEO promotion when it happens. You like pasta, I assume since you love macaroni and cheese. You’ll get lots of great pasta there.”
Italy. He wants me to go to Italy with him. My stomach twists a little with just how confusing and complicated this thing with us is getting. “Reid—”
“Don’t overthink it, Carrie,” he says. “Just live in the moment. Just say yes.”
Live in the moment, only Italy months from now isn’t in the moment. Just say yes. He makes it seem so simple. Is it? “If I even become CEO,” I say.
“You will,” he assures me. “Are you still going to sell your apartment?”
I sit up with a sudden twist in my belly, pulling my knees to my chest. “I want to sell it.”
Reid sits up and moves to sit in front of me, his hand settling on my knees, those blue eyes probing. “Why?”
“I don’t feel secure. I won’t for a long time after this mess with the company. And since I know what you’re thinking, yes, I’m aware that my need for security stems from my mother leaving, but it’s a need that exists to be fed. I’m going to feed it.”
“Don’t sell yet. I promise you, Carrie, promise you, that you’ll feel secure when this is over.”
“I won’t,” I repeat firmly. “Not for a long time.”
“You will, baby. Trust me.”
I want to trust him. I want to believe this man could hold my heart and my life in his hands and he wouldn’t crush them both. But Reid is not the guy I could take home to my non-existent mother, as he himself proclaimed quite adamantly. He’s the guy I will end up hating, and that is not a good thought right now.
“Let’s go back to the cottage,” he says, and when he tries to stand up and take me with him, I have this sudden need for control. I push him back and into the sand.
“You don’t get to get up yet,” I say, shoving him until he’s lying flat, and twisting to my knees beside him, my hand on that perfect, hard chest of his.
“And why is that?” he challenges.
“Because I’m not done with you here,” I say, and when I would kiss him, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me against him.
“What are you going to do with me now that I’m here?” he challenges.
“Wait and see,” I say, reaching down and stroking the satisfyingly thick ridge of his erection. I turn him on. I like that I turn him on. I like so many things with this man that I might even love those things, but not him. I’m not going to fall in love with Reid Maxwell. I’m going to enjoy every inch of his hard body with my hands and my tongue, and own him like he did me.
Inspired, I straddle him and lean down and kiss him. He tangles rough fingers in my hair, and I moan with the lick of his tongue, but I don’t let myself get lost. Not in the kiss. There’s too much more of this man for me to enjoy, to own. I push away from him and slide down his body, settling between his legs to shove up his shirt and kiss his stomach. “You want to know what I’m going to do, don’t you?”
“Show me,” he orders gruffly, affected, and the very idea that he’s aroused, that he wants this, turns me on. I’m wet. My nipples ache. My body burns for this man, but I want him to burn for me.
I slide lower, and kiss and lick the line above his waistband, my hand stroking his cock through his sweats. His lashes lower, his hard body harder with the tensing of his muscles, and I know how on edge he is, how much he wants my mouth on his body, and I want it there, too. I drag his pants the rest of the way down and then my hand is wrapping his shaft, and I look up at him as I lick the pooled liquid at the tip of his erection.
He jerks slightly and I’m inspired to do more. I drag my tongue around the soft head of his cock and then suckle him into my mouth. He moans and arches his hips, and I draw him deeper, sucking on him, my tongue working the underside of his cock. His hand comes down on my head and that’s what pushes me over the edge. That’s what has me wet and hot and sucking harder and deeper. He’s in need. He needs. I need his need. I want that burn I felt to burn him and it does. He starts pumping harder, pushing into the movement of my mouth, and when he murmurs, “Carrie, baby,” and releases my head, I suck him harder and deeper until his hand is back on my head, and he’s shuddering, shaking and groaning as the saltiness of his release fills my mouth and I don’t stop. I take it and him and go all the way, slowing as he slows, easing my mouth only when he’s collapsing into the sand. I give him one final lick and then drag his pants back into place.
“Carrie,” he whispers, dragging me up his body. “You know—”
“That I owed you. And never say I don’t pay my debt. I owned you and owed you.”
Suddenly I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, his hands on the sand on either side of me. “You owe me nothing, ever. That is not what we are. You never owe me. Say it.”
“Reid—”
“Say it, Carrie. That’s not who we are.”
“I don’t owe you. That’s not who we are.”
“Say it again.”
“Reid—”
“I’ll say it. We don’t owe each other. Ever. That’s not who we are. That’s not who I ever want us to be.”
This matters to him. Really matters and it makes me feel like we matter. It makes me fall harder for this man. He pushes to his feet and takes me with him, his hand under my hair on my neck as he drags my mouth to his. “And now, I vote we go to bed—together.”
And just like that, he owns me again.
Chapter Forty-Four
Carrie
Reid drags me close under his arm, and we walk back to the cottage. We don’t speak, a new intimacy between us that is comfortable in the silence. So much so that when we enter the cottage and head upstairs, we still don’t speak. We end up on opposite sides of the bed staring at each other, and what passes between us is intense, intimate, and like nothing I’ve ever experienced. We understand each other. We know each other in ways no one has known us. I don’t talk about my mother, but I have with him. He knows about my challenges with my father. He knows my weaknesses. He knows when and how I am strong. In turn, I know about his struggles with his father, his guilt with his mother, his intimacy issues. I know about his migraines. I know about Elijah. We know what we want and that’s the space out from in between us.
We undress and once we’re under the blankets, we’re instantly in the center of the bed, together, kissing, touching, and when he’s inside me, I’m not sure it’s fucking. It’s more than fucking. It’s tender and intense and it just feels different. We are starting to feel different again, the way we had when we’d kissed by the water between our apartments.
At some point Reid turns me, pulling my back to his chest and his hand is on my breast, his entire body wrapped around mine. I don’t know how having him behind me is more intimate, but it is. It’s like he’s sheltering me and protecting me in some unexplainable way. When we both tremble into release, we don’t move. In fact, he pulls me closer and murmurs my name before the heaviness of sleep and satisfaction wins. My lashes lower and sleep claims me.
***
I wake with Reid still wrapped around me and it’s a surreal moment, lessened only by the fact that I have to pee so badly I’m about to burst. I’ve never woken up in a man’s arms, which at my age is probably a bit screwed up, but I just—I don’t, or I didn’t, have anyone that made me want to wake up in their arms. Even when my ex stayed the night, I ended up with a pillow hugged to my chest, not him. Reid’s cellphone rings and he groans. “I’m going to ignore it,” he says, his hand sliding to my belly, the thick ridge of his erection sliding between my legs. “So I can tell you good morning properly.”
My hand covers his. “Take the call. Good morning has to come after I pee.”
He rolls me to my back and ignores his call and my bathroom request. “I don’t wake up with women in my bed, Carrie. I don’t do this.”
“I don’t either, Reid,” I say, my f
ingers curling on the thick stubble on his jaw. “What are we doing?” I ask yet again.
“Everything, baby, and I’m not sure that’s enough.” His cellphone rings again. “And apparently, everything includes answering my phone while you use the restroom.” He kisses my temple and then rolls off of me.
I roll in the opposite direction and grab my clothes on the way to the bathroom. I’m pretty sure Reid’s phone stops ringing again before he answers. I hurry to do my thing, and then pull on my clothes, with that word “everything” in my head. What does that even mean? What do I want it to mean? I don’t let myself get too in my head about it. Instead, I look at my wild hair and smudged makeup that I never took off, and decide I need my overnight bag, and most definitely the toothbrush inside.
I open the bathroom door to find Reid pulling on his pants, and since his back is to me, I have just enough time to appreciate the perfection of his backside.
“I’ll let you know in the next hour,” he says and whoever is on the line must be talking because he runs his hand through his hair and just listens, his shoulders bunched with obvious tension.
I walk to my suitcase that Reid set on the floor at some point, I really don’t remember when, and pull out my toiletries about the same time he says, “I’ll call you,” and disconnects.
He turns to face me as I stand up with my pink bag filled with makeup and miscellaneous items. “Problem?” His phone rings again and he grimaces. “Why can I not just take you to eat mac n’ cheese after fucking you good morning? And no, nothing is wrong.” But he doesn’t seem like nothing is wrong. He answers the call and I walk back into the bathroom, brush my teeth and take off my makeup. I’ve just put on a little moisturizer, despite the fact that I’ll likely wash it off in the shower, when Reid walks in, sets his overnight bag on the sink, and grabs his toothbrush from inside.
“That was Grayson,” he says, putting toothpaste on his brush. “He has a proposition for us.” He starts brushing his teeth.
“Did you really just say that and stuff a brush in your mouth?” I demand, while wondering how he manages to look so damn sexy while brushing his teeth, and decide it’s all the muscles flexing here and there and everything.
“Patience, baby,” he says, rinsing his mouth and then his brush.
“Reid!”
He gives a low, sexy chuckle, and snags my hips, placing me between him and the sink and despite my impatience, I’m pleased with his laughter. “I needed to do this.” His fingers tangle in my hair as he adds, “and have you actually enjoy it.” His mouth closes down on mine and I’m thoroughly kissed before he says, “We need to go back to New York City.”
“What?” I don’t like the instant knot in my belly that follows or the sense of rejection that cuts a little too easily.
“My sister is holding a surprise party for her husband. She’s really pushing hard for me to be there tonight.”
“Oh. Well, you should be.”
“I’m not going unless you go with me.”
“You—you want me to go to the party?”
“It’s the only way I’m going,” he says firmly. “I don’t like these kinds of events, but I do respect Cat’s husband. Say yes. Get me through this or I’m going to call and tell her no.”
“Okay, you’re not saying no. This is your sister. That’s an order.”
“Then you’re going with me,” he insists.
I’m confused. So very confused with this man. “We don’t do white picket fences and family, Reid.”
His fingers flex at my hip, his voice turning low, rough. “Ask me the question again, Carrie.”
I know what the means. I know what question. “What are we doing, Reid?” I ask, and I swear my voice trembles.
“Everything and that might not be enough.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Neither do I, but I’ve never been one to let fear get in the way.”
“Fear? You’re afraid.”
“Damn straight, baby. In ways you don’t understand, and I really don’t want you to. Come with me to the party.”
He’s scared. This is not an admission that I expected from this man, but he’s proving to be so much more than anything I believed him to be when we met. I want to push him for more, but I decide just to give him more instead. “I—okay. I’ll go with you.”
“Good,” he says, tension easing from his body as if he feared rejection. “We’ll eat that mac n’ cheese on our way to the airport. Right now, we’re taking a shower together.”
He wants me to have my mac n’ cheese. Why does this hit so many right buttons for me? It’s mac n’ cheese and yet, it’s more. It’s this hard man I’ve called “asshole” over and over, caring what I want and like. “Shower,” he repeats. “Together.” He lifts me off the counter and starts walking backward, taking me with him.
I catch the band of his sweats. “Wait. What about Grayson? How have you still not told me about Grayson?”
“He had a falling out this morning with our competition. He’s taking bids next week for Asia. Texas is on hold until he gets that property under control. I don’t personally think he’s taking bids. I think he’s waiting to see what we can do, but keeping us on edge.”
“You know how I feel about Asia. That was my biggest worry talking to him.”
“I have some ideas on that, and we can talk about them over lunch. I have contacts, a few people I really trust.”
“Reid, this project will be going on when you’re gone. I’ll be stuck with it and the fallout. I don’t want to get on top to fall again by making the wrong move now.”
He cups my face. “The moment I resign from the board and cash out does not mean I leave you, Carrie. Trust me,” he says again.
“You keep saying that, but you also keep promising I’ll hate you. That makes me very uneasy.”
“I know,” he says. “And it should.” He releases me and walks toward the shower.
“What does that even mean, Reid?” I say, following him, only to have him turn on the shower and slide off his pants, which means he’s now standing in front of me fully naked, beautiful with his cock thick, hard and between us. Which also means, that I’m wet, warm, and having a hard time remembering what I was about to say.
“What does that mean?” I repeat, thankfully I’ve found my brain again. “I know and it should? I should be uneasy about trusting you?”
He drags me to him. “You can trust me. Absolutely trust me. What it means is that we need to fuck and you need to stop overthinking everything. We’ll figure it all out. I will make it work out. And like it or not, you’re going to have to trust me.” He kisses me and then drags my shirt over my head, and his hand on my breast distracts me enough that my pants are quickly off as well.
“Reid, damn it,” I murmur as he pulls me in the shower and shoves me in the corner, his big body protecting mine from the spray of water at his back. “Fuck me like you hate me,” he says, lifting my leg and pressing inside me, his hand cupping my face. “Then hate will feel so damn good, you’ll forget why it matters.” His mouth closes down on mine, and he thrusts into me again.
I decide that if this is his version of hate, I’ll take it.
Chapter Forty-Five
Reid
I’m just finishing off the last swipe of my razor at the bathroom sink, Carrie next to me at the second sink, when her eyes meet mine in the mirror. She gives me a shy smile when she is so far from shy, but it’s these contradictions in Carrie, the small little things that make her her, that draw me to her. She glances away and runs her fingers through her wet hair. I’m starting to think obsession isn’t the right word for what I feel for this woman. It’s more. It’s so much more.
I wipe my face and she turns on the hairdryer, this kind of intimacy with a woman is not something I’d have considered in the past, but there is no hesitation in me to be here with her like this. I don’t want to be without this woman. She’s changing me, and I don’t even care. I’
ve stopped asking myself why everything is different with Carrie. I’m not even going to ask how this happened anymore. It just did. She happened. And I’ve stopped trying to save her from me. It’s too late. She can’t be saved. I won’t let her be saved. Not from me.
I walk over to her and kiss her despite the hairdryer blasting and brush my thumb over her kiss-dampened lip. I don’t say anything. I like that I don’t have to say anything with Carrie. She doesn’t need some false sense of security in words. She doesn’t force me to say things I’m not ready to say. She doesn’t force me to be anything but a better man, and that’s what this is. I’m better with this woman. I know this. I think she does, too. The problem is that she doesn’t know what I am without her. She’ll know if she ever finds out the truth of that debt.
Feeling that certainty like a punch in my gut, I leave her to finish her routine and walk into the bedroom to dress in gray Diesel jeans and a gray Diesel T-shirt and boots, trying not to think of that debt. I fucking hate the way I’m legally bound not to tell her, but if I do, she’ll go to her father, and he’ll come at my family. I fucking would if I were her. It’s too personal. She’ll be too upset not to react. I run my hand through my hair. The hairdryer turns off and I walk to the bathroom door and just seeing her there in her robe, looking beautiful and just so damn her, guts me for one reason: I want her and I’m going to lose her, and I can’t stop it from happening.
“Hey, baby,” I say when she looks at me with those perfect emerald green eyes. “I’m going to check in with Royce on Elijah and see what this place looks like in daylight.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “I won’t be long.”
I cross the room and pull her to me, all her soft curves pressed to every spot I can get her. “Good.” I stroke her cheek. “I want you with me, Carrie. You know that, right?”
“I’m starting to figure that out.”
“Say what I want you to say.”
“I want to be with you, Reid, but don’t make me hate you. Please. Stop trying to make me feel hate. I don’t want to feel whatever it is you’re making me feel and then have it turn into that.”