And it gets even worse when Reeve starts lapping at my neck with his mouth and tongue.
“Take me out,” he orders, licking at my earlobe and wrapping his lips around it with one good suck. His hitched breathing turns me on, but I still hesitate to follow his direct command. “We can play this game all day, McQueen. We both know I’m either going to wear you down, or I’m just going to take what I want. You screaming for Wallace is fine by me.”
“You wouldn’t be so fuckin’ stupid,” I mutter weakly.
“Look at everything I’ve been doing. I’m not above stupid shit.”
My palm reaches his cheek, and that gets him to pull back and finally look down at me.
I see every broken piece of him in his gaze. Everything I said. That day in the garage when he showed up and begged me not to marry Ramsey.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. And I don’t blame Reeve entirely for acting the way he did. Not when I’ve had my own breakdowns and showdowns. When I believed one thing, it was done for my own good—not that it mattered at the time—not at all.
I murdered Nessa.
I put so manybullets in her—few in the chest, the others…hit her neck.
There was so much blood.
My stomach coils in nausea, but I don’t fully regret what I did.
What I had to do.
In the grand scheme of things, she had to go. Fuck knows what else Matteo would’ve had her do, unless he had plans to kill her afterward. I still don’t understand why he sent her to me; however, I have a pretty good guess it was to show us this is bigger than it seemed. That he had planned something bigger than any of us know about.
“You haven’t grieved shit, have you?” Reeve mutters, pulling me back into his orbit. “You’ve been deflecting.”
I mindlessly avert my gaze. “It’s better than focusing on it.”
“Maybe you should do a line.” My attention slices back to him with exasperation. “It works, McQueen.”
“The last thing I need is to be a coke addict with two younger sisters.”
“Then maybe you should fuck me and take your mind off it.”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck it, go do another line.”
“I haven’t done a line since the night you fucked my night up.”
I slice my focus back to him, studying his expression and temperament. I find nothing but, dare I say, sincerity.
“You said bad things happen when you reach the end of your rope. Then you had the balls to kissBobbyand well…let’s just say, I haven’t stopped thinking about it, and I’m over not fucking you.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach, batting away the confidence I once had that’s fading by the second.
“That’s not the way to a girl’s cunt, Reeve,” I lightly chide. “Try again.”
His lips curl into one of those mellowed-out smirks, and my defense begins to crumble one brick at a time. “We can cut the shit and pretend you’re not wet for me.” He leans closer, throwing another brick to the wayside as I feel him unbuckling his jeans. “But we’ll both know you’re lying.” His fingers are suddenly on my clit, rolling it between two digits before he brings both up to his mouth and wraps his lips around them.
Fuck.
Me.
He does the same thingthree morefucking times before I shift my weight for him to stop.
“I’m not fucking you.”
With Reeve’s free hand, the tip of his cock replaces his fingers, taunting the inevitable in this game he’s playing.
