I look around the party—at the elegant decorations, the successful people networking and celebrating, the world I thought I needed to prove myself to. Then I look at Eliza, mischief dancing in her eyes, offering me something infinitely better than professional validation.
“Get your coat,” I say.
“Yes, sir.”
As we make our way toward the exit, I catch sight of my trees scattered throughout the room, my work finally being appreciated and valued. But for the first time since I started this business, that recognition feels secondary to the woman beside me, who just changed my entire future with cardstock pulled from her cleavage and the unshakeable belief that I was worth investing in.
28
Eliza
“Can you stay tonight?” Reed asks as we climb the stairs to his apartment, his hand warm on my lower back.
“Try to make me leave, and I’ll bite you,” I tell him, squeezing his arm.
“What about the goats?” He fumbles with his keys adorably, flustered.
I laugh and add to his distraction by rubbing his butt. “Eden’s managing both my mother and my beasties. I’m sure they’ll survive one night without me.”
The moment his door closes behind us, something shifts in the air between us. The playful energy from the party transforms into something hungrier, more urgent. Reed’s eyes are dark as he watches me pull off his tie, the silk sliding through my fingers.
“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me all night,” he says, his voice rough.
“Actually, I have some idea.” I work on his belt, my fingers brushing against the firm plane of his stomach. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”
“Can you blame me?” His hands settle on my waist, thumbs tracing the velvet. “You’ve been driving me insane.”
Instead of answering, I push his jacket off his shoulders and start on the buttons of his shirt. Reed groans and reaches for my jacket, peeling it open with reverent hands.
When he sees me underneath—nothing but skin and the faint lines from the velvet—his composure completely shatters.
“Jesus, Eliza.”
He drops to his knees in front of me, and I brace myself against the wall as his mouth finds my collarbone, then lower. He smells different tonight—cedar and lime instead of the earthy plant scents that usually cling to him, or the hay from our first time in the barn. This is Reed in his element, clean and polished and wild with want.
For me.
His tongue circles one nipple while his hand cups the other breast, and I arch against the wall, fingers tangling in his hair. He’s methodical, using the same focused attention he gives his trees. I’m already close to falling apart when I tug him up by his ears.
“Where’s your bedroom?” I pant.
“Down the hall.”
We practically sprint there, shedding clothes and laughing as we collide with doorframes and each other. By the time we reach his bed, I’m in nothing but the borrowed suit pants, and he’s down to his boxers.
“Wait,” he says as I reach for his waistband. “I should mention… I’m completely healthy. Had my physical last month, clean bill of health.” He pauses, suddenly looking shy. “If you wanted to consider… intercourse.”
I burst out laughing. “Intercourse? Really?”
“What would you prefer I call it?”
“Sex, Reed. Fucking. Banging.” I kiss his neck, tasting salt and cedar. “And I haven’t been with anyone in a few years, so you’d be my first in a while. I have a birth control implant.”
His fingers find the tiny device in my arm, and he presses a kiss to the spot. “Are you saying we could have sex without a condom? Because I don’t have any.”
“Actually, Esther shoved a peppermint-scented condom in these pants just in case,” I admit, patting my pocket. “But I’m good if you are.”
Reed’s eyes go wide. “Your sister gave you condoms?”
