Page 48

Oh fuck.

She used this. Recently.

There’s residue on it. On the sheet. In the air—there’s still a faint trace of her.

She hasn’t cleaned it yet.

I could probably still taste her.

Don’t do it, Reid. Don’t be a fucking creep. You’re here to help her.

But I don’t move.

I’ve been starving for her since she got here. Before that, even. I haven’t touched another woman since I left her, and every time I’ve gotten myself off, it’s been her—her body, her smile, her eyes.

I tried to fight it. I lost.

I want her. Always have. Always will.

A voice in my head whispers, No one’s here. She’ll never know.

My pulse pounds low and hard. Every instinct tells me to drop it, walk away.

I don’t.

I try—talk myself down, force myself to move—but my body won’t listen.

And then I give in.

I lift it to my nose and inhale.

“Oh God.”

The sound tears out of me, heat flooding my body. I barely manage not to grab myself, even though I’m hard as hell.

But I keep breathing her in like I’ve lost my mind.

And then I go further.

I taste it.

Plastic. Faint tang.

But my mind fills in the rest—her, wrapped around me, her voice, her body?—

“What the hell are you doing?”

I jerk back.

Sierra stands in the doorway.

Fuck.

My chest is heaving. I didn’t even close the door.

Of course I didn’t.

She looks furious.