The answer made me ache.
I lifted my hand and touched his beard.
Reid went still.
“I’m not the man you bought it for.”
“No.”
“Would you choose me anyway?”
His eyes held mine.
“Every version.”
I leaned toward him.
This time, I did not ask aloud.
I stopped close enough for him to understand.
Reid waited.
He made me cross the final distance.
I kissed him.
The choice was not cautious, though the kiss began that way.
His mouth met mine with restraint more dangerous than hunger. He let me decide how close to come. Let me angle my head, deepen the contact, test the soft warmth of his lips.
My fingers moved through his beard and around the back of his neck.
Reid’s hand settled at my waist.
He did not pull me toward him.
He supported me.
My body recognized the security of it.
A shiver passed through me.
His thumb stroked my side.
I opened beneath his mouth.
The kiss changed.
Heat spread low through my body, insistent and immediate.
Reid tasted of coffee, pear, and the salt air that seemed permanently caught in his skin. His beard rasped over my jaw. The pressure of his mouth increased when I leaned closer, and a quiet sound gathered in his throat.
I wanted more.
More of his hand at my waist.
More of his mouth.
