“We’re going to spend the day in bed, and later, much later, you’re going to come home with me. Is that understood?” he asks even though I’m pretty sure it’s more of a demand.
Not that I care either way. I’d go to the ends of the Earth with him if he asked.
Not trusting my voice, I just nod enthusiastically and am gifted with that sexy smirk of his that makes me weak in the knees.
“Good girl,” Reed praises, and I squirm. I love when he talks to me like that. But before I can tell him that, he dives in and doesn’t stop until I see stars.
Twice.
9
REED
“I’m stuffed,” she sighs with a dreamy smile on her face as she looks at me, and I stroke her hand with my thumb.
I love this. I love having her with me. I haven’t done a thing, haven’t stepped foot into my workshop all day or my home office. But I’m okay with that. I’m always ahead of schedule, practically living in there, and honestly wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’m almost wondering if I could find a way to talk her into working inside my workshop, but I am pretty sure the sound of power tools would be bothersome for her.
We’re at my place, sitting at my dining table, that before Camila, has hardly ever been used. I made her dinner, forcing her to sit at the counter while I cooked us spaghetti and meatballs. When it was time for the sauce to simmer and the water to boil, I fucked her hard and deep. Bent over my countertops. I know I will never look at my kitchen without getting hard. The memory of her completely naked as I rut into her like an animal will always be seared in my mind.
“Good. I like feeding you.”
“I like you cooking for me.” She winks, and I chuckle. I seem to do a lot of that around her. There is an easiness I feel aroundher. Like breathing is simpler than it was before she moved in next door.
“Go sit by the fire while I clean up,” I order, dropping a kiss on her lips. Loving the taste of her.
“Oh no, Reed, I’ll help—" I shoot her a look that stops her mid-sentence, and a pretty blush paints the apples of her cheeks. “Okay, fine. I’ll go sit so you can spoil me,” she says playfully, and I slap her ass the moment she passes by me. I love the look she gives me over her shoulder.
She liked that little smack. I pin that note for future reference.
When I finish loading the dishwasher and get back to her with a glass of white wine for her and a whiskey for myself, I stop mid-step as I soak her in.
She’s sitting on my couch, her attention on the fire roaring in front of her. Seeing her in my space, all I can think about is wanting this to beourspace.
It’s really damn fast and seriously out of my usual behavior. But I don’t give a fuck. I know what I want, and fuck anyone who has any shit to say about it.
I’m sure the moment I tell my brothers, and sister about her, my siblings are going to want me to get my head checked. I’m not this man. One who rushes into anything and talks about his feelings. But with her, I find myself wanting her to know everything, every single thought, because I don’t want to tempt fate and have some kind of stupid misunderstanding. Not when she means so much to me.
She’s the one.
My other half.
She must feel me in the room because she turns to look at me with a smile playing over her lips, and any thoughts of sitting down with her clear out. I turn and set the glasses on the table, taking a health swig of mine before striding back to her.
“What happened?” she asks as she watches me move the coffee table off to the side. Curiosity shines in her eyes as I grab my phone and pull up my music app, playing a song I heard her play one night that made me think of her.
“Dance with me,” I ask, extending my arm toward her the moment I’m closer.
She takes my hand in hers, again humbling me with the trust she just hands over without a second thought, and I help her stand up. She wraps her arms around my waist, resting the side of her face against my chest as mine wrap around her. One hand resting over her ass and the other at the back of her head. I wonder if she can hear the way my heart races for her.
We dance for a couple of songs, enjoying the closeness of our bodies, the way we sway back and forth and stare lovingly into one another’s eyes.
“Why do you play your music so late at night?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me
“What?” Her lips quirk upward as her head pulls back so she can look up at me.
“The music you play. You always start to play it at ten.”
“Oh… I…” She pauses and shrugs. “Honestly?”
