Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Chapter forty
Carrie
Reid joins me in the car and shuts us inside, the earthy woodsy scent of him teasing my nostrils, the power that is this man consuming me and the small space, and yet, he doesn’t touch me. In fact, he doesn’t even attempt to close the space between us. He settles in next to the door and taps the driver’s seat, which triggers the driver’s reaction. Without a word, the car is in motion, and with every inch we move, the space between me and Reid seems to widen. Somehow, despite this, I feel this man in every part of me. I have never in my life been so hyperaware of another human being. I want him to touch me. I want to touch him, but those secrets between us keep me in place, and him too, I suspect. Or perhaps I’ve scared him with my list of options right before we got into the car. Maybe he doesn’t want a relationship over fucking if that translates to transparency, while I don’t want a relationship over fucking that translates to secrecy. All I know is that I can’t continue on like this and I don’t even know what that means. Maybe we’re over. Maybe we’re just fucking, but again, I just don’t know if I can do that anymore and when my gaze catches on his hand on his knee, and I notice the way his fingers are digging into his leg, I know that he’s just as on edge as I am right now. I hate that I think of those hands on my body, too, but I do. I have it so damn bad for this man.
I’m not sure if it’s relief or distress I feel when only minutes later, the driver pulls us to the front of a navy-blue beachfront cottage illuminated in outdoor lighting. Reid doesn’t look at me. He simply reaches for his door and I spare us the awkwardness of him helping me exit. I don’t slide his direction, but rather open my door and get out. I meet Reid at the trunk where the driver unpacks our bags and Reid tips him before grabbing our luggage all himself before I can offer my help. “I have the key,” Reid says, his gaze meeting mine with a hard punch of tension between us. “Grayson gave it to me before we left.”
I nod and when I try to reach for my bag, he holds onto it. “I have it,” he murmurs, turning away to move ahead of me and up the sidewalk with a brisk enough pace that he’s already unlocking the door when I reach the porch. He shoves open the door and the light flickers on, be it by his efforts or a motion detector, I don’t know. Whatever the case, he enters the cottage first, and I follow him into a narrow hallway, black wood flooring beneath my feet. Reid sets the bags down by a wooden table, and I shut the door, turning to lock it, the very act one of claiming the control that feels so damn out of reach.
By the time I face forward again, Reid’s back in control. He’s in front of me, pulling me to him, his fingers tangling in my hair, those blue eyes staring down at me, and the fact that he’s touching me is a blessed relief. I need this man and it’s addictive and terrifying at the same time.
“Reid,” I whisper when he doesn’t immediately speak, asking for answers, asking for more.
His answer is not in words. His mouth slants over mine, his tongue stroking deeply, and that’s all it takes. I’m lost and found again in this moment and this man. There are no questions, no secrets, no need for control. There’s just this kiss and I sink into it, my arms wrapping around him, under his open jacket, my body pressing to every hard inch of him I can manage, a soft moan sliding from my lips at just how good he feels. But when he tears his mouth away, his lips linger a breath from mine, vulnerability, and presence of mind has me challenging him for answers and myself for sanity.
“Was that a fuck you kiss or a relationship kiss?” I demand. “Or maybe just a distraction, a way to forget the secrets?”
“What did it taste like, Carrie?” he demands, his voice low, rough.
“Like that answer,” I say. “Indecisive.”
Tension flexes a path through his body beneath my touch and he releases me, pressing his fists to the wall on either side of me. “I fucked Elijah’s wife.”
I gasp at the unexpected answer. “What?”
“She wasn’t wearing a ring and I didn’t know who she was, but Elijah and I were rivals on a deal at the time, and I damn sure didn’t apologize.” He pushes off the wall and starts walking away, but when he would disappear into whatever the next room is, he half turns and adds, “I told him that if he knew how to satisfy his wife, she wouldn’t have come to me. I’ve done a lot of hard things in my life, Carrie, and I’m not sorry for most of them.” And with that, he turns and leaves me standing in that hallway.