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“Reid!”
I gasp his name as he sucks hard on my neck. It’s going to leave a bruise, but do I care? I do not.
Iamhis. The whole world should know that anyway.
“Oh my god.” Giggles burst between my lips as Reid trails hot kisses down my body, mouthing me through the pajama shirt. He finds my hard nipple easily, sucking it through the fabric.
I bow off the bed with a gasp.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” His dark hair is thick and springy, and surprisingly soft between my fingers. I scratch at his scalp as Reid kisses down to my belly button, breathing hot air on my navel through the shirt fabric. “I thought you’d, like, peck me on the cheek. This is insane.”
Insanelygood.A dream come true.
But Reid stiffens, his big hands gripping my hips. “Insane?”
My stomach plummets. “In a good way!”
But it’s too late—he’s already gone eerily still, already withdrawn behind his walls. It’s not Reid-the-hot-lover lying on top of me anymore, it’s Reid Merryweather, cranky boss.
When he rolls off me to one side, I’ve never been less glad for a lungful of air.
“Please come back.” My arms are wobbly, my body going haywire from our kiss, but I reach for him. “Please don’t stop.”
Reid stands by the bed, breathing hard, his dark hair all rucked up. He shakes his head slowly, takes one long look down my boneless body, then turns and marches into the en suite.
The door slams. The shower stutters to life.
I gape at the ceiling, so turned on and so, so disappointed.
Eight
Reid
Even on its lowest temperature, this shower is not cold enough. Nothingcouldbe. I could sprint out into the blizzard and roll around naked in the snow, and I’d still be burning up in my own personal inferno.
“Fucking mistletoe.” My palms are spread over the tiles, head hanging low, while the icy cold shower beats against the back of my neck. Like a thousand freezing needles stabbing my skin. I deserve this. “Fucking Christmas.”
But it’s no use. I’m still viciously hard, my shaft flushed and veined and pointing at the shower wall. Like it’s pointingthroughthe tiles, zoning in on Noelle like a heat-seeking missile.
She must hate me right now. For kissing her like I did, or for stopping so abruptly. Either way, the result is the same.
As soon as the blizzard is over, I’ll hire a plane to display it in sky-writing:Reid Merryweather is not fit for love.
“Christ.” There’s nothing else for it. No way I’m leaving this bathroom this century otherwise. I take myself in hand, loathing my own weakness, and squeeze my shaft hard.
I jerk myself roughly. Crudely. Like I want it to hurt; like I’m punishing myself. God knows I shouldn’t actually enjoy this, not when I left Noelle out there in a baffled little heap.
She looked so flushed and dazed. So lost, stretched out on the mattress alone.Come back, she said, but did she mean that? Or was she caught up in the moment, caught off guard when she offered me an inch and I took a mile?
And what a goddamn mile. Kissing Noelle is better than I ever dreamed, and I’ve pictured it alot. Her heat, her eager whimpers, her fingernails scratching at my scalp, her body bowing against mine…
“Reid?” Noelle’s voice is soft, muffled by the wall and the shower spray, and I squeeze my eyes closed and try to blot her out. My fist moves faster, my grip merciless. “Are you okay in there?”
Okay?
Am Iokay?
I ran away from the woman of my dreams like my shirt was on fire, and now I’m trying to bring myself off quietly so I can go back out there with an ounce of dignity intact. My body is pebbled with goosebumps, and the cold of this shower is squeezing my skull.
