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I reached out, wrapping my arms around his neck and dragging his lips back to mine, the two of us crashing together feverishly. He hooked his hands under my thighs and directed my legs around his waist while I slid my fingers into his hair.
What started as a gentle kiss quickly became something much more intense than I anticipated.
And I loved it.
It felt good.
It felt right.
Every inch of my skin electric.
Every time he touched me, it felt like another surge of power shooting through me, and I couldn’t get enough, so ready to get completely lost in this man.
Our mouths moved in sync, neither of us wanting to break apart, merely catching a breath whether we could. Reed’s fingers reached for my shorts, flicking open the button and yanking on the zipper before tugging on them. I lifted my hips, giving him enough to pull them off and toss my shorts over his shoulder onto the refrigerator.
I giggled as he once again wrapped his arms around me. This time lifting me off the counter and carrying me from the kitchen to where?
I had no idea.
And I didn’t care.
At this point, I was done questioning anything and was ready to just feel.
There was a spark between Reed and me.
I’d felt it almost since the day we met.
While I’d tried my best to convince myself he was only being kind and he probably picked up a lot of women off the side of the road and took them home. So he could look after them when they had a concussion, introduce them to his friends, and pretend to be married.
But the more I knew Reed, the more obvious it was that this was nothis normal.
This was different.
For me…
… and for him.
And there must be a reason why, so I needed to stop fighting and follow it.
When Reed dropped onto the sofa, I tightened my arms around his neck, letting out a breathy laugh as I fell forward, straddling his lap. “Jesus, warning next time.”
“Next time,” he repeated, reaching for the hem of the hoodie I was wearing—his hoodie—and pulling it up, his hands gently guiding it over my head so it didn’t brush my stitches. “I like the sound of next time.”
So did I.
Next time.
And the time after that.
And the time after that.
I had a feeling I may never be able to get enough of Reed.
It was the way he talked, the way he moved. He was unlike any other man I’d known, and I’d spent plenty of time with the wealthy type. He had the lifestyle, but he was not them, and after all I’d learned about him the past week or so, I understood why.
We’d shared pieces of ourselves with each other.
The deep, dark pieces.
