by Erin Watt
I think I’ve always closed my eyes before when he’s touched me here, and it’s shockingly erotic to watch him, in broad daylight, take me into his mouth. He gives me a gentle little bite and then licks the sting away before opening his mouth and sucking my nipple.
Holy hell.
“I, ah, I think I’m going to drown in here.” I gasp.
He lifts his head and gives me a wicked look. “We can’t have that.” Then he boosts me out of the pool and drags me to the pool house.
* * *
Breathless, we tumble onto the couch, then Reed rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him so I’m straddling his thighs. We’re both soaking wet, but I don’t care that my hair is dripping water all over his bare chest. I’m too busy moaning because his hands are tugging on my bikini top and his hips are rocking up against me.
He pulls at the strings around my neck and back, and my bikini falls off. Heat instantly floods his gaze. “I wanted you from the second I saw you,” he confesses.
“Really?” I tease. “You mean when I walked into your house for the first time and you stood up at the railing glaring at me?”
“Oh yeah. You came in dressed like a hobo, with that flannel shirt buttoned all the way to your neck and your eyes blazing up at me. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I think we have different definitions of hot.”
He laughs.
Speaking of hot, his chest is on fire, burning my palms as I stroke his pecs. When I lean down to kiss him, he responds so eagerly that it takes my breath away. Our lips fit perfectly. I run my hands over his chest and his breath sucks in. The muscles there quiver beneath my fingertips.
I love knowing that I’m the one turning him on. I’m turning on Reed Royal, the guy who scowls instead of smiles, who keeps his emotions under lock and key, hiding them from the world.
He’s not hiding anything right now. His desire for me is written all over his face. I can feel it when he presses against me.
I bend my head to kiss him again and he makes me gasp by sucking on my tongue. Then he makes me moan by using his thumbs to toy with my nipples.
Breathing hard, I lean into his palms, and a frustrated noise leaves his mouth.
“I’m being selfish again,” he mutters.
“I like it when you’re selfish,” I breathe.
He gives a strangled laugh, then rolls us over again and slips one hand inside my bathing suit bottoms.
“I wanna make you feel good.” His lips find mine, and a zing of pleasure races through me. I close my eyes and ride the incredible waves of sensation until we’re both breathing hard enough to fog up every pane of glass in the pool house.
“Reed.” His name shudders out as my surroundings fade. My brain shuts down. All I can do is let the soaring pleasure take over.
When I crash back to earth, he’s grinning at me, looking mighty pleased with himself.
I narrow my eyes, wanting to smack him for having the power to make me lose control like that, but that’s a stupid thought, because oh my God, that felt good.
But it wouldn’t hurt to level the playing field a little. I shove him so that he’s flat on his back again. Then I start kissing his chest. Every glorious inch of it.
Reed’s breathing grows unsteady. When my lips travel down to the waistband of his trunks, he tenses up. I lift my head to check his expression. It’s tight with anticipation.
My fingers shake as I toy with his waistband. “Reed?”
“Mmm?” His eyes are closed now.
“Can you teach me how to…um…” I mumble out a vague, “…you know.”
His eyes snap open. To my annoyance, he looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Ah. Yeah…sure.”
I bristle. “Yeah, sure? I don’t have to if you don’t want—”
“I want.” He answers so comically fast that I’m the one laughing now. “I really, really want.” He quickly eases his board shorts down.
My heart pounds as I bring my mouth close to him. I want do to this right, but because I can feel him watching me, self-consciousness makes me want to run.
“You’ve really never done this?” he says hoarsely.
I shake my head. For some reason, he looks really upset by that. “What’s wrong?” My forehead creases when his expression grows even more tortured.
“I’m such an asshole. All the stuff I said to you on the yacht… You should hate me, Ella.”
“But I don’t.” I rub my hand along his knee. “Teach me how to make it good for you.”
“It’s already good.” His eyes are hazy, and he cups the back of my head, gently threading his fingers through my hair. His other hand reaches for one of mine and he slowly wraps my fingers around him. “Use your hand, too,” he whispers.
I give a little pump. “Like that?”
“Yeah, like that. That’s…good…”
Feeling bolder, I take the tip of him in my mouth and suck. He almost jerks off the couch. “That’s even better,” he growls.
I smile against him, enjoying the noises he’s making. I might not have experience but I hope my enthusiasm makes up for it because I really want to make him feel good. I want him to lose control.
He keeps stroking my hair and I get my wish sooner rather than later. He comes apart beneath me, trembling wildly, and when I crawl up his body afterward, he holds me tight to him and says, “I don’t deserve this.”
I want to ask him what he means, but I don’t get the chance. Loud pounding on one of the glass doors interrupts us.
“Little sis! Big bro! Banging time’s over.” It’s Easton, and he’s laughing hysterically as he hammers his fist against the glass.
“Get lost,” Reed calls back.
“Love to, but Dad just called. He’s on his way home and wants to take us out for dinner later. He’ll be here in five.”
“Damn.” Reed sits up and shoves a hand through his hair. Then he looks at our naked bodies and grins. “We should get dressed. Dad’ll shit a brick if he finds us like this.”
Will he? For the first time since this thing with Reed started, I let myself think about how Callum would react if he knew. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, because I think Reed might be right. I’ve been in Bayview only a month and Callum is already super protective of me. Hell, he was protective of me before he even knew me.
Callum won’t like this.
My gaze fixes on Reed’s bare butt as he stands up and yanks his trunks up his hips.
No, Callum will hate this.
31
“Ella!” Callum calls from the base of the stairs thirty minutes later. “Come down, I’ve got something to show you!”
I roll over and pull a pillow over my head. I don’t want to leave my bedroom. I came up here to change for dinner, but really, I’ve just been lying in bed reliving every awesome thing that happened in the pool house.
I don’t want to go downstairs and see Callum and worry about what he’d say or how he’d feel if he knew what Reed and I had been doing. I just want to stay in this pink cocoon and hug my memory tight. Because what we did in the pool house was good and right and nothing is going to ruin that memory for me.
But the insistent call for me to get downstairs is hard to ignore, especially when Easton is now outside my door, pounding on the wood. “Come on, Ella. I’m hungry and Dad won’t let us leave for the restaurant until you come down.”
“I’m coming.” I fling myself out of the bed and shove my feet into the deck shoes, which are becoming my favorite pair of footwear. They are so fricking comfortable. I wonder for a second if wearing boat shoes outside of a boat is a huge faux pas but then decide I don’t really care.
When I reach the second floor landing, all the Royals are waiting for me down below, wearing varying degrees of smiles, from a sly one on Reed’s face to a huge, ear-to-ear one on Callum.
“Can one of you stare at the ceiling?” I grumble. “You’re making me self-conscious.”
Callum mak
es an impatient gesture. “Come outside and we’ll all stare at what’s in the driveway.”
Against my will, I feel a swell of excitement. My car—or at least the car that Callum got for me to drive—must have arrived. I try not to run down the stairs but Easton is tired of waiting. He takes the stairs two at a time and then drags me down to the foyer and the rest of the Royals push me outside.
In the center of the driveway, at the foot of the wide tiled steps, sits a two-seater convertible. The interior is covered in cream leather and dark shiny wood. The chrome on the steering wheel gleams so brightly that I almost have to shade my eyes.
But none of that is as shocking as the color. Not pink. Not red. But a true royal blue—the same blue that adorned the plane that flew me here, the same one on Callum’s business cards.
My eyes fly to Callum and he nods. “Had it painted in our California factory. It’s Royal blue and the formula is patented by Atlantic Aviation.”
Reed presses a hand at the small of my back and I stumble forward down to the car. It’s so beautiful and clean and new that I’m afraid to even drive it.
“You ready to go for a ride?”
“No, not really,” I confess.
They all laugh, not at me, but in genuine, good-hearted amusement. My heart lurches. Is this really my family? The thought makes the few barriers I had left crumble away.
Callum hands me the keys along with a piece of paper. “This is the title to the car. No matter what happens, this is yours.”
Meaning that if I decide to leave, for whatever reason, he expects me to take this car with me. Which is nuts because I’m scared to even sit in it.
“Come on, let’s take this baby for a spin.” Reed opens the passenger door and slides in.
With all of them watching expectantly, I have no other choice but to walk around to the driver’s side. Reed explains how to move my seat forward, tilt the wheel down and operate the radio—the most important feature.
And then with a literal press of a button, the engine roars to life and we’re off.
“I hate driving,” I admit as I steer the car down the quiet two-lane road that leads to the Royal residence. My fingers are clutching the wheel hard and I can’t seem to bring myself to drive more than twenty-five miles an hour. The homes along this tree-lined boulevard are either gated or the driveway is so long you can’t see anything but a blacktop lane swallowed up by trees and bougainvillea.
The car is small enough that Reed can easily stretch his arm to rest it on the back of my seat. He threads his fingers through the ends of my hair. “It’s a good thing you have me then, because I like driving.”
“Do I?” I ask quietly, almost glad that I have to stare at the road instead of into his blue eyes. “Have you, that is?”
“Yeah, I think you do.”
And for the rest of the ride, it feels like I’m flying.
“Looks like you enjoyed yourself,” Callum greets us when we return.
“Best ride ever,” I declare. And then because I’m giddy with happiness, I throw myself into his arms. “You’ve been too good to me, Callum. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Callum’s stunned by my outburst of emotion but hugs me back quickly. The boys separate us, complaining about their empty stomachs and we all go out to a steak place down the road where the Royals eat enough for five families.
When we get home, I run upstairs to add the drive to my mental catalog of wonderful things that have happened in my life. I place it right after blow job.
That night, so late even the mice have tucked their babies in, Reed slides into my bed.
“I was having the best dream,” I mumble as he curls his body around my back.
“What was it?” he says roughly.
“That you showed up in my bedroom and held me all night long.”
“I like that dream,” he whispers in my ear and then he does just that—holds me until I fall asleep.
He’s gone again when I wake up, but the smell of him is on my sheets.
Downstairs, I find him leaning against the kitchen table.
“Don’t you have practice?” I ask lightly, not willing to believe that he still wants to drive me to work.
“Can’t have you on the road this early in a new vehicle. You need to break it in some more before you handle it while you’re half asleep.”
I try to downplay the way my excited heart is bouncing around the walls of my chest. “Hey, I was sleeping innocently until a big bear came in and decided that my bed was just right.”
He tugs on my hair. “I think you got the wrong fairytale here.”
“What would be the right one? Aladdin because you plan to take me on a magical carpet ride?” I waggle my eyebrows.
Reed bursts out laughing. “Is that what you think of my dick? That it’s magical?” I blush so furiously that he laughs even harder. “Damn, you really are a virgin, aren’t you?”
Cheeks still flaming, I flip up my middle finger. “That’s what I think of you and your magical, uh…”
“Dick,” he supplies between laughs. “Come on, virgin, just say it—dick.”
“Oh, you’re a dick, all right.” I glare at him all the way to the car.
Reed manages to gain control of himself as he buckles up. He leans over to kiss me, and that’s all it takes for my irritation to fade.
I’m practically floating on air during my morning shift at the French Twist, and my good mood stays with me throughout the school day. I run into Reed in the hall a few times, but other than a few secretive looks and a wink from him, we don’t speak. I don’t mind, because I’m not sure I’m ready to advertise to everyone at Astor Park that I’m kinda sorta involved with my kinda sorta stepbrother.
At lunch, Valerie and I are shocked when Savannah gestures for us to sit with her and her friends. I guess Operation Take-Down-Daniel-Delacorte was a success in more ways than one, though Savannah still doesn’t seem entirely comfortable around me.
After school, I lie on the south lawn doing my homework until Reed and Easton are done with their team meeting, and then Reed drives me back to the mansion, keeping his arm around me during the whole ride.
When we get home, we discover that Callum has gone on a business trip to Nevada, which means we’ll have the house to ourselves until Saturday. Hell yeah.
* * *
That evening, Reed waltzes into my bedroom while I’m reading.
“Sure, come on in. I don’t mind,” I say sarcastically. I roll over on my back and watch as he sets a huge bowl of popcorn on my nightstand.
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do. Want something to drink?” He peers into my mini fridge. “Don’t you have anything without the word diet in here?”
He walks over and leans out in the hall. “Bring the beer. Ella just has diet shit.”
I hear a faint, “Got it,” echo from the end of the hall.
I scoot up against the headboard. “I’m afraid to ask what’s going on.”
“We’re watching the game.”
“We?”
“You, me, and Easton. We,” he explains and then climbs on the bed. I move over so he doesn’t sit on top of me.
I look around dubiously. The bed is big enough to hold Reed and me, but Reed, Easton and me? “I don’t think we’ll fit.”
“Sure we will.” Smirking, Reed lifts me up and drops me between his legs, pulling me snug against his chest.
Easton arrives moments later, taking my abandoned spot. He doesn’t even blink at the cozy position he finds us in. Reed places the popcorn bowl between us and flicks on the television.
“Where are the twins?” I ask. My bed feels crowded with two giant Royals on it, but add the twins and it would be like stuffing double D’s into an A-cup bra.
“They’re going over to Lauren’s house,” Easton answers before shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.
“Both of them?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to,” Reed hi
nts and I promptly shut up.
Even if I had more questions, I don’t think I’d be able to get any answers. Once the game is on, it’s like I’m not even there. Reed and Easton cheer, groan and high-five each other. I spend my time admiring all the tight asses on the screen and smirking at all the innuendo-laden commentary, like how the one guy with the ball really needs to jam the hole and how the other team isn’t getting enough penetration in the backfield.
Neither of the guys appreciate my observations. I settle in between Reed’s legs and just enjoy the company. Occasionally, Reed reaches over and rubs my back or runs his hands through my hair. They’re careless, offhand gestures as if we’ve been a couple for years, and I drink it up like a thirsty kitten. There are way worse ways to spend my night, I muse.
The score is pretty lopsided and somewhere along the line I doze off, full of popcorn and bored by the game. I wake up to the sound of Easton’s phone blowing up. He leaves to answer it and Reed stretches out beside me like my own personal heater.
“Who was that?” I mumble, feeling groggy.
“Who knows. Were you sleeping?”
“No, just resting my eyes. What’s going on with the game?”
“The Lions are killing the Titans.”
“Are those real team names or are you just making stuff up?”
“Those are real team names.” He sounds amused. A warm finger skims across the waistband of my shorts. I stretch, feeling a newly familiar heat seep into my bones.
“Are we done watching football?” It’s more of a suggestion than a question.
Reed’s blue eyes get stormy. He climbs over me, caging me between his arms and legs. “Yeah, I think we’re done with that.”
His head descends slowly and I lick my lips in anticipation—
“—what the hell, did the Lions just score?” Easton bursts in.
Reed sighs and heaves himself off me.
“See how nice it would be if people started knocking,” I whisper as Easton grabs the remote from the bed and turns up the volume on the game.
Reed just folds his arms and grunts. We both watch as Easton begins to pace.
