“Yes,” she whispered.
He made a rough sound and stared at her with so much heat she was surprised he didn’t pick her up and carry her back to her bedroom. “Seven thirty?”
Her lips tipped up at the corners. She couldn’t help it. She was looking forward to it, looking forward to spending time with him. “Sounds good.”
His fingers slid into her hair, and he leaned in, brushing his lips over hers. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.” Then he let her go, and those long, powerful legs carried him out the door.
What was she getting herself into? He overwhelmed her, excited her, scared the crap out of her. There was more between them than just lust, she felt it, saw it in the way he looked at her, heard it in the things he said. The man was a force to be reckoned with. She had no hope of stopping the freight train that was Reid Parker.
And the funny thing was, despite the risks, she didn’t want to.
Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Nine
Reid pulled back his damp hair, tying it in a knot at the base of his skull, and grabbed his black shirt from the closet.
It’s me taking care of what’s mine.
Mine.
He still couldn’t believe he’d said those words to her. But yesterday morning, standing in her kitchen, shit, it was as if someone else had taken control over his vocal cords. That one small sentence—it was not him. Those words should not be coming from a man like him, and went completely against the way he chose to live his life, the way he had been living his life for as long as he could remember.
But he couldn’t walk away, not yet. Staying at her place, surrounded by her things, her scent, knowing she was in the next room, had driven him bat-shit crazy. The need to stake some kind of claim over her was not something he could ignore. He realized that now. Just what that was, what it meant, he had no clue. Something had changed, though. Rusty had dropped her guard a fraction more, let him see another piece of her. And he liked it. Liked everything she showed him.
Both women had been out cold when he got them home, and neither had batted an eyelid when he’d carried them to the porch seat, not until the alarm went off when he’d used Rusty’s key to get in. Thankfully, Piper had roused herself long enough to punch in the code, then stumbled to bed.
That left him and Rusty. After he’d carried her to her room, woken her so he could get her to drink a glass of water, dodged her cute yet sexy attempt at a striptease, he’d watched her curl up under the covers and pass out.
Leaving her had not been easy.
He’d never, not once, had the urge to just sleep with a woman, without fucking, but he’d wanted to get into bed beside Rusty, pull her into his arms, and hold her. Which was messed up.
Instead, he’d taken the couch, the foreign urge enough of a kick in the pants to get him out of her room. Still, he hadn’t left her place, couldn’t.
Then in the kitchen the next morning, even hungover, she was gorgeous. And when he’d pulled her into his arms…shit. He didn’t know how she did it, went from redhead vixen to sweet and shy, totally innocent, but she did, and just that glimpse of vulnerability nearly did him in.
But when she smiled, giving it to him without any barriers, full-on happy...Christ, he loved it. She hadn’t been hiding from him, she’d let him see what she was feeling, and it had taken all his strength not to lead her down the hall to her bedroom and show her exactly how much that pleased him.
Shit was getting complicated. His feelings for her were getting complicated. He’d never wanted another woman the way he wanted Rusty. Hell, he’d never put in this much effort for any woman in his life, never had to. He’d tried to fight it, but seeing that soft side and holding her in his arms had made it impossible.
Then all of it, everything he’d been dwelling on during the night while he lay on her couch—the being out drunk, the risks she’d taken—had come flooding back. It had sent his possessive instincts goddamned haywire, and he’d staked his claim the only way he could: he’d called her his.
It was a mistake. That wasn’t where this was heading.
His course was set, wasn’t it? He wanted West Restoration, wanted to cash in on what the West girls could bring to the table, take R.I.P. to the next level.
He should give her up. But he couldn’t, not yet. He wanted Rusty as well, for however long that might be.
But whatever happened between them, it had a use-by date. It had to.
So yeah, he’d bathe in her light, because he was a selfish prick, then he’d move on when they’d both had their fill. The last thing he wanted to do was extinguish that fire in her eyes, and he would if he stuck around. The dark, toxic crap in his veins would see to that. At least this way they could part on good terms, start their business relationship without any hard feelings.
Focusing on work, making sure his businesses were successful, that was what he had to concentrate on. In the end, that was all he had, all he could ever have.
Shoving his feet in his boots, he laced them up, tagged his leather jacket, and grabbed his keys.
For now, though, he planned on enjoying every moment he had with her.
