Kaylee and my mom practically blew out an eardrum with their squeals of excitement.
“If everyone is finished, we can clean up and move into the living room.”
I cleared the table, taking everyone’s plates while my mom, Kaylee, and Reed got to know each other. I probably should have stayed, seeing as how I didn’t know much about Reed myself, but I needed the space to kick my own ass for the hole I’d dug myself in.
Filling the sink with hot water and soap, I stood there, staring out into the backyard. The sun was starting to set, and the colors began to fade into the darkness.
“Was that you playing it by ear?” Reed whispered, coming up behind me.
I jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to glare at him over my shoulder.
“I panicked.”
“Well, that was obvious.”
My scowl softened. “I’m sorry, Reed. I’ll tell her the truth.”
He shrugged. “Or maybe we don’t. It doesn’t hurt to let your mom think this is legit, right? I mean, we know the truth. We know there isn’t anything more between us, right?”
During his spiel, he had moved up closer behind me. So close I could feel the heat of his body and the hard lines of his thighs against the back of mine. I could feel his breath moving through the hair on the back of my neck, and I hated the part of me that wanted to press into him.
It was wrong, but I knew for the first brief seconds it would feel so damn ...
“Right,” I breathed.
“Need any help in there?” Kaylee called from the doorway of the kitchen.
Reed’s muscles tightened in disappointment, and I wondered if mine had done the same.
It was a bittersweet interruption. On the one hand, I loved my sister dearly and could kiss her for coming in, but on the other, more confusing hand, I wanted to strangle that pretty little head of hers.
“Looks like you two got this handled,” Reed said, stepping away from me and heading to the exit. “I’m going to go find out where we’re sleeping.” He actually had the nerve to wink at me as he walked out.
“Meme,” Kaylee said, and I blinked, bringing her into focus. “You’re spilling water everywhere.”
Looking down, I realized I was wringing water out of the dish towel in my hands. “Crap,” I hissed, bringing it back over the sink.
Kaylee was there with another towel to dry it up. “I’m surprised you two didn’t set off the smoke alarm. You two have some serious chemistry, Meme.”
I wanted to deny her words, but I wasn’t ready to tell Kaylee the truth about my lie yet. I hated lying to her, but ...
“Can you please tell me how this all happened?”
“It wasn’t planned.”
“Well, duh, you could barely stand him six months ago.”
And now, I could barely stand to look at him without thinking about the last night we were together.
“It’s funny how things change.”
“Are you happy, Meme?”
Her question came out of nowhere, and it caught me off guard.
I thought about the secret I was carrying, literally, and I smiled at her. “Yes, I’m happy.”
Twenty Five
Reed
Meela came into the dining room just as I was pushing in the last chair around the table. She looked around the room and then past me toward the living room.
“Where’s my mom?”
“She went to get our bedroom ready.”
Her head snapped back in my direction, and I took pleasure in the increase of her breathing and tingle I knew was working its way up her spine.
“Our room?”
“Well, technically, it’s your room, but tonight, we’ll share it.” I gave her a wicked grin.
She swallowed hard. “We are not sharing a room.”
“And how are you going to explain to your mom that your husband-to-be is going to be sleeping on the couch?”
She opened her mouth, but with no real rebuttal, it snapped close with a click of her teeth. She rounded the table, stopping on the other side of the chair.
“This is all your fault,” she hissed, peeking over my shoulder. “We would be home, in our separate beds, if you hadn’t insisted we stay for dinner.”
“It’s one night, Meela. It won’t kill either one of us.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“We’ve slept together before, Meela. You managed to survive just fine.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Will you be serious?”
“I am, Meela. You’re overreacting.”
“All set,” Meela’s mom announced, joining us in the dining room.
“Thanks, Mom.” Meela replaced her frown with a tight smile. She looked around and then down the hall to the bedrooms. “Where’s Kaylee?”
“Oh, she left.”
“She left? Where did she go?”
Her mom waved a hand in dismissal. “She went out to meet some friends.” I could almost feel the frustration coming off Meela and so could her mother because she said, “Don’t be upset, Meela.”
“The least she could have done was stay in since I was here.”
“I guess she didn’t want to feel like a third wheel.”
Meela frowned. “Third wheel? There are four of us.”
“There are two of you now, sweet girl. I’m going to bed.”
“What? You’re going to bed? But it’s only nine.”
“And way past my bedtime.”
“What happened to wanting to get to know Reed?”
“We have a lot of time for that. I’m not young like you kids anymore. I need all the beauty rest I can get.” She pulled Meela into a hug and kissed her temple. “I’m so happy for you two,” she beamed down at Meela and then turned toward me for another hug. “Welcome to the family, Reed. Good night,” she called, leaving us alone.
“I guess there is only one thing left to do,” I said into the side of Meela’s hair. “Let’s go to bed.”
L U S T
Forty-five minutes later, I stood in the center of Meela’s childhood room. It was charming and unique and very much Meela.
Pictures of her high school years hung from a corkboard above a desk, which still had an A paper on a book report she did in the seventh grade. Pictures of her and her sister and mom when they were really young. Looking around, I realized none of them were with her father before he passed. I made a mental note to ask Meela about it, and then I realized there was a good possibility that she was never coming back into this room.
Another ten minutes passed and if Meela thought I wouldn’t leave to find her, she was dead wrong. Three swift strides and I was across the room, pulling the door open, and stopped short. Meela stood there, dressed in sweats, a tank top, and her hair piled in a messy knot at the top of her head. How the fuck was I supposed to keep my hands off her now?
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked her, amused.
“I lost track,” she confessed.
Moving past me, she stood in the middle of the room.
“I don’t understand what the big deal is, Meela. All we’re doing is sleeping. This is a full-size bed with plenty of room for us to stay on our own sides.”
My words seem to give her some sort of relief because the tension in her shoulders melted.
She sighed. “You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.”
“You really are,” I teased, and she smiled.
“As if you’ve never.”
“I can honestly say I’ve never been nervous to share a bed with an attractive woman before.” My eyes swept down her body.
“I’m not nervous to share a bed with you,” she insisted. “We have rules remember?”
“We actually never made a rule about sleeping only in a bed together.”
“Semantics but fine, we never made a rule.”
“Okay then, relax and tell me which side you like to sleep on.”
Again, she rewarded me with a smile. “Right side.”
�
��Right side it is.”
I waited until Meela crawled into bed before I hit the light and did the same. We laid there in the dark not moving and barely breathing.
After a few minutes of silence, I finally asked. “Am I the first of my kind to be in your bed?”
She shifted in the dark, probably looking at me now. “The first of your kind? What does that mean?”
“The first man in your bed.”
She responded after a few seconds. “Yes,” she admitted.
“Can I ask you another question?”
“Now you want to ask permission first?”
“I figured I probably should with this question.”
She shifted again. “Now, I’m nervous.”
“How is it that you were still a virgin, Meela?”
Her breathing stilled, almost coming to a complete stop. “What do you mean how? I had never had sex before.”
“But how is that possible? Are all the boys in Summerville blind?”
I felt her shrug. “I didn’t have time for boys.”
“So you never dated in high school?”
“I went on dates. But that’s all they were.”
“So I was special?” I joked.
“That night was the result of too much alcohol.”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself now?”
“It’s the truth, Reed.”
“So you’re saying you would have gone home with anybody that night?”
She sighed. “Does it matter?”
“Hell yes, it matters. Lie to yourself, Meela, but don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you would have gone home with just anyone. You didn’t save yourself just to give it up to—”
“Someone I hated?”
Well, she had me there, but I wasn’t completely convinced she hated me as much as she said she did. “You wanted me before you hated me, Meela.”
“Well, then I guess you have your answer.” Before I could comment, she went on. “Thank you for not completely freaking out about the whole fake marriage thing.”
“Don’t try to take credit for that, Ms. Davis. You forget that was my idea to begin with.”
She laughed and then whispered into the darkness. “Thanks, Reed.”
“You’re welcome, Meela.”
Several minutes passed and I thought she had fallen asleep as I listened to the evening of her breathing, but then she said, “Now it’s your turn.”
I frowned in the dark. “My turn?”
She shifted, the bed dipped, and I could feel her body heat as she turned toward me. “For me to ask you a question.”
I tucked my hands behind my head. Feeling her warmth made it that much harder to keep my hands to myself. “Ask away. I’m an open book.”
I waited, and then she finally asked, “Why do you get so upset when your family is brought up.”
Fuck me.
Of all the things I thought slashed hoped Meela would ask me, that one was nowhere on my list and I told her so.
“Of all the things you could ask me, that’s what you choose?”
“Yes, now answer, Mr. Open Book.”
I groaned, rubbing my hands roughly up and down my face until my skin felt raw. “It’s complicated, and despite me being an open book, that’s just one chapter we’re going to have to skip for now.”
Again, she was silent before she finally said, “Good night, Reed.”
She wasn’t angry or upset that I didn’t explain. She just accepted I wasn’t ready to discuss it.
“Good night, Meela.”
Twenty Six
Meela
Being a woman was not for the faint of heart.
We had to deal with our fair share of shit, but hormones were a bitch, and pregnancy hormones were the mother ship. As I drove home—a word that still made flinch when I thought it—I was completely aware that I should probably avoid anyone and everyone. My road rage had taken on a whole new level as I tried to maneuver through rush hour. I was pretty sure I used every swear word in the book while managing to throw my voice out.
Walking through the door, I kicked off my heels and leaned against the door as I waited for the feeling to return to them. Being on my feet for most of the day was not agreeing with my swollen feet.
Pushing away from the door, I moved to the kitchen and set my bag down on the counter. I stood there listening, but there was no sound coming from the back of the house, so I assumed Reed wasn’t home yet. Unbuttoning the top of my suit jacket, I slipped out of it and folded it over one of the barstools.
My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I was on a new eating schedule that entailed eating every hour or this baby got hangry. Today, I’d been so busy at work, I barely had time to pee much less stuff my face. It hadn’t helped that Reed sent me a text every two hours to see how I was feeling or if I was eating.
Walking over to the fridge, I tugged on the handle, pulling the door open. The cold air felt good against my heated skin because apparently being pregnant also meant feeling like your skin was on fire for the better part of the day.
A quick scan of the fridge told me I couldn’t make anything with orange juice, cream cheese, and carrot sticks. Seeing as how I was about to take on hangry status, I was kicking myself for not going shopping this weekend.
After searching through the cabinets, I was able to find two granola bars that would tide me over until I found Reed’s takeout menus.
My phone went off in mid-search, and I moved around the counter to pull it out of my bag. My heart flickered when I saw his name, and my automatic response annoyed me. There was no reason for me to feel weak in the knees over a text message from Reed. Pressing my finger against the notification, I pulled his text up.
Reed: Running late. Should be home in thirty. Craving anything for dinner?
Without answering, I turned the screen off and set my phone down on the counter. His text message, while considerate and definitely not something to be irrationally annoyed by, only fueled my bad mood.
I told myself I didn’t want Reed sending me texts to let me know when he would be home or that he was running late. I shouldn’t want him texting me during the day to see how I was feeling or if I had eaten, and I definitely didn’t need him to send me lunch. It wasn’t right when he wasn’t mine and I was only going to hurt myself in the end.
We weren’t husband and wife or even boyfriend and girlfriend. I understood I was carrying his baby, but until I actually gave birth, I didn’t need him taking care of me. I agreed to stay in Charleston and move in with him, but that was where it ended. We had set rules for a reason, and Reed definitely liked pushing the boundaries of those. We weren’t playing house, but that was exactly how it felt.
My phone went off again, and I debated ignoring the text message I just got and turning my phone off completely, but the part of me that hadn’t been taken over fully by pregzilla told me not to reach ultimate bitch status.
Carrie. Thank god.
Carrie: How are you feeling?
My fingers moved over the keyboard as I typed out my response.
Me: Like the world’s biggest bitch. Do I get some kind of immunity when everything is said and done for the way I treat people while pregnant? Maybe I should search online for a shirt that says: Sorry for what I said when I was pregnant.
Carrie: LOL! If you find one, get me one too. Poor Dillon :( I’m worried he’s not going to remember what the real Carrie is like before I have this baby.
Me: Dillon LOVES you and couldn’t imagine his world without you, pregnant or not.
Carrie: I hope so! How are things going with baby daddy on your end?
I frowned.
Me: Please don’t ever refer to Reed as my baby daddy. Things are … what they are.
Carrie: I get that hormones aren’t our friends right now, but try to cut Reed a little slack. Your guys’ situation is … complicated.
I sniffed. Complicated as fuck was more like it, but there was no reason to argue semantics. I did
n’t need to add petty to my ever-growing list of personality traits.
Me: I’m trying. I’m such a bad friend. I didn’t even ask you how you’re feeling?
Carrie: I’m good. I can’t believe I’m going to be a mom in only a few short weeks.
Carrie’s pregnancy seemed to have completely flown by. She was due in two weeks, and I was losing my mind for her. She had asked if I wanted to be in the delivery room with her and Dillon, and after my eye stopped twitching, I kindly declined her offer. There was no way I could go through with my own delivery if I saw it up close and personal first.
Me: I know. Are you nervous?
Carrie: I’m terrified, but so excited at the same time. I can’t wait to meet Alexander Gage Harris.
Me: His name is perfect.
Carrie: Are you ready?
Me: NO! But I will be.
Carrie: I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, but there is something to take care of the pregzilla.
Me: Tell me! She’s a raging, out of control psycho.
Carrie: Sex.
Me: Goodbye!
Carrie: I’m serious! Orgasms calm the beast. Multiple-
I turned my screen off quickly. Carrie’s solution was not an option.
I heard the faint footsteps outside the door a few seconds before the door opened and Reed walked in. Seeing me standing there, his smile was warm, and the effect of it was like a caress. Reaching out and touching me in places I shouldn’t want it to.
Damn hormones.
Damn Carrie and her sex texts.
My lustful thoughts toward Reed weren’t making my life easier. He was off limits.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes leaving a trailing as he took in my bare feet and legs, my untucked shirt, and my messy hair. I knew I looked a mess, but the way Reed was looking at me took my breath away.
“Hey,” I finally responded. I noted the bags in his hand, and the smell of takeout made my mouth water. I swallowed before I drowned myself, and my stomach growled, reminding me that I was still very much hungry.
Lust Page 20
