Page 117 of Reeves

The thought shouldn’t matter. He’s a grown man. He can handle one night on a couch.

Still, it lingers.

I turn toward the linen closet, grab a pillow, stuff it into a pillowcase, and head down the hall before I can overthink it.

My bare feet make no sound on the hardwood as I move toward the living room.

The space comes into view, lit only by the faint glow from the kitchen nightlight.

Reeves sits on the edge of the couch, elbows braced on his knees.

At first, I think he’s looking at his phone, but then I realize he isn’t holding anything. He’s just… sitting there. Staring at nothing.

I pause in the doorway, taking him in. His hair is slightly mussed, and he's not wearing a shirt. My breath stutters at the sight of him. His broad shoulders, the intricate ink on his arms.

All of him.

My mouth goes dry, and I have to step back. Then I come back, not wanting to miss a single second.

He's always been fit, but not like this. I can see every defined abductor muscle as they disappear into the blanket pooled around his waist.

He doesn't see me at first, so I study him. My head pounds as I take in this man I loved so deeply, sitting in my dim living room. If I squint my eyes a little, I can almost transport back six years and imagine no time has passed.

A creak in the old house causes him to jump. When he looks up, our eyes meet.

"Oh, you're still awake."

"Sorry if I startled you. I just finished my bath and wanted to bring you a pillow."

He sits up straighter.

"You didn't have to do that. But thank you."

I step into the living room, my heart beating faster with each step that brings me closer to him. I know the stakes of my being here with him like this are about much more than a pillow.

His fingers brush mine as he takes it, and that small contact sends a shock wave through my entire body.

My pulse quickens. The space between us is still charged with everything we didn't say earlier, everything we've been avoiding since he walked back into my life.

Benjy is asleep. Reeves is already here. He's already Benjy's father. The emotional line has already been crossed.

My thoughts race, fast and reckless. Sleeping with him doesn't create a new problem. The problem already exists. This just serves a need deep inside of me.

Heat pools between my legs, and my pussy throbs with want. I'm wet for him.

"Charli."

His voice carries a warning, but his eyes are dark with the same hunger I have. He's giving me the chance to stop this before it goes too far.

I don't take it.

Instead, I reach for him, my hand finding his jaw. The scruff there is rough against my palm, exactly how I remember it.

It feels so good.

He moves faster than I expect, pulling me down onto the couch beside him, his mouth finding mine with desperate precision. This isn't tentative or careful.

His hands slide into my hair, holding me to him as our tongues meet and dance. I taste him, and six years collapse intonothing. My fingers trace the new ink on his tricep, feeling the hard muscle beneath the tattoos.