He heads toward the door in nothing but his unzipped pants and I focus on three words he spoke. Not with me. He’s heartless. He’s brutal. He’s spared me. It’s not comforting. What happens if he turns on me? And why am I not running? Because I’m not. I’m not even close to running.
***
Reid
I walk down the hallway toward the door, out of Carrie’s sight, and before I answer the door, I press a hand on the wall next to it and let my chin dip. What the fuck am I doing? I’m acting like I want things with Carrie that I swore I didn’t want in my life. More. Like I want more than sex when sex is the zone where I keep women. I need to reel this in, but instead, I'm not going to. I'm going eat sandwiches with Carrie and talk to her. I won’t even consider letting her go home tonight.
The doorbell rings again.
Fuck.
I open the damn door.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Reid
I enter the living room with the take-out bag in my hand and Carrie meets me by the couch, my T-shirt swallowing her whole, but damn I like her in it a little too much for comfort. And yet, I pull back from where we’re headed tonight. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Her eyes meet mine. “As in, to your bedroom?”
“Yes,” I say, sensing the tentativeness in her over my room and not sure where that is coming from. “To my bedroom. My favorite place to eat is up there.”
“Now you have me curious,” she says, the tentativeness fading quickly.
Pleased that we jumped that hurdle quickly, I motion her forward. “Then onward to the man cave.”
She laughs as we head to the stairs. “That sounds dangerous considering this is you we’re talking about,” she teases.
Dangerous.
That word hits about ten nerves, all connected to my past that I don’t intend to think about tonight, not with this woman, with Carrie, in my bed. We climb the steel stairs that lead directly into my master bedroom through an archway. “No door?” Carrie asks as we approach.
“It’s just me,” I say. “And I like to be able to see and hear everything at all times.”
“Talk about a control freak,” she teases as she passes under the archway directly in front of me, to halt a few steps inside the room.
I step to her side, taking it in with her as if I’ve seen it for the first time. The room is a V-shape with a fireplace to the right, and dark gray flooring throughout. Directly in front of the fireplace and several feet away, there’s a step up to the master bed, which has a gray leather headboard beneath which I plan to fuck Carrie until we can fuck no more.
“It’s very you,” Carrie says, glancing over at me. “Very powerful and masculine.”
I’d like to see that as a compliment, but it also tells me that despite all her pushing back against my every demand, the power thing is on her mind, it’s between us, and it’s a problem I need to deal with now rather than later. I motion to the pillars framing another archway just beyond the bed. “That’s our dinner location.”
She moves ahead of me to enter the round room wrapped in windows, with a gray sectional in the center, and a tree trunk-style gray coffee table set in front of it. “This is my favorite place in the apartment,” I say, as I sit down on the couch and pat the cushion next to me.
“I can see why,” she says, claiming the spot I’ve patted. “It’s like a little escape.” She indicates the bookshelves to our left and right. “What would I find if I explored?”
“A collection of law reference manuals, as well as fiction, and non-fiction pleasure reads. I come here to relax but also to think through big decisions.” I set two bottles of water on the table and then remove our sandwiches, setting hers in front of her. “I ordered our regulars.” I rest my elbows and glance over at her. “What’s yours?”
“Egg salad. What’s yours?”
“Egg salad,” I say, surprised at how many things I really do have in common with Carrie.
She smiles, and damn I love her smile. “They must have thought it was odd that two regulars ordered together tonight. How long have you been here and ordering?”
“Five years,” I say, opening my sandwich as she does the same. “You?”
“Six years for me. I can’t believe we haven’t run into each other, as in literally, while jogging. I mean, we’re on opposite sides of the plaza, but the running thing. We must have run right by each other for years.”
“It wasn’t our time to meet,” I say softly, thinking about the different place we’d be in had we met before I read that letter from my mother, and even before that debt with our parents was paid. “Eat,” I say, winking. “You’re going to need your energy.”
She gives me a shy smile and slides onto the floor before she takes a bite. Shy. This woman who cuffed me and left me in a hotel room is such a perfect contradiction. I dig in as well and for a few minutes, we eat in comfortable silence. That’s something I don’t remember having with another woman but then I never wanted to try. “In darkness there is light,” she says of the dark sea and starless night, illuminated only by the Statue of Liberty.
“Exactly what this room is to me.”
She tips back her water and sets it down before abandoning the rest of her sandwich to join me on the couch again. “Your father retired?” she asks, curling her legs on the couch, turning to face me.
I finish off my sandwich and settle back on the couch next to her, angling toward her. “Semi-retired. He has a hard time letting go.”
I expect her to push on my father, but she doesn’t. “And your mother?” she asks instead.
“Died four years ago, going on five that feels like ten.”
“You had her growing up and then you lost her. I’m both envious and heartbroken for you. Were you close to her?”
Most people say they’re sorry for my loss, but not Carrie. She dives into the heart of the matter and dives deep, and yet, when I would normally pull back, I find myself answering her without hesitation. “I thought I was.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I found out that I didn’t know what was going on in her life. There was a side of my mother I didn’t understand, but I should have.”
“Like me and my father, it seems.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, wanting to avoid her father at all costs and that cost is me making confessions I never make. “I idolized my father. I chose to be blind to my mother’s pain because he created it.”
“I’m not sure if I should ask what that means.”
“My mother wrote my sister a letter that detailed her miserable life with my father. He cheated often, with many, and treated her like shit. I had no idea. I knew he was a bastard in the boardroom, so to speak, but I thought she was the person that kept him human. I was wrong.” I meet her stare. “My mother also wrote of her fears that I was so close to him that I would become him.”
“But you’re not,” she says. “You know that, right?”
“Says the woman who is always calling me an asshole.”
“You are an asshole,” she says. “But we both know that’s a choice, or rather a persona. I don’t believe you’re him. Not the way you describe him. Not from what I know of you.”
To allow her to believe that I’m not that asshole she’s called me would be a selfish mistake. That’s how she gets hurt. That “persona” as she calls it, is what keeps people at a distance, it’s how I keep from actually getting close enough to anyone to hurt them the way he hurts people. And yet, what do I do? I reach for her and pull her closer. “I don’t talk about my family, Carrie. I don’t bring women to my apartment. I have never brought anyone to this room.”
Shock flickers over her face. “Then why am I here, Reid?”
I drag her onto my lap. “Because I want you here. Because I can’t seem to stop breaking my own fucking rules with you.”
Her hands plant on my shoulders. “And you’re mad at me again? You’re blaming me.”
“Yes.
Stop making me break my rules.” I cup her head and kiss her, my tongue pressing past her lips, stroking us both into a needier place, where rules don’t matter.
She moans and sinks into the kiss, and damn it, I love those moans, I’m addicted to those moans. I’m addicted to this woman, and all my good intentions to sate that addiction, fail. I pull my T-shirt over her head and toss it, and my gaze raking over her breasts, her nipples puckering under the inspection. My hand slides between her shoulder blades, and I mold her close. “This is definitely your fault.”
“Is this where you decide to kick me out again?”
“No,” I say. “This is where we fuck.” I drag her mouth to mine, and kiss her, telling myself that fucking is all this can be, reminding myself of the debt and the secret I legally cannot share. The secret that she’d never stay silent over if she knew.
I tell myself to get lost in the taste of her, defiant and yet submissive at the same time, in that way that defines this woman. I tell myself to just enjoy the moment, and I do. I waste no time getting naked and pulling her down the throbbing length of my cock. I waste no time driving into her. I waste no time getting lost in her touch, her kisses, her moans. And later, much later, when I’ve laid us down and pulled her next to me on the couch, I hold her, listening to her breathing slow and even out. I’m acutely aware that she is a woman caught in the middle of a debt that has to be paid, destined to hate me. It’s why this has to stay just sex. It’s why no matter how deep I go with her, I cannot get too close.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Carrie
“Carrie.”
I blink to the sound of my name and an awareness of Reid behind me washes over me, his big body wrapped around mine, his lips at my ear. “You awake, baby?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Not even close,” he says, nuzzling my neck, his lips near my ear as he softly orders, “Look out the window.”
I blink again and bring the window into view, my lips parting with the sight of a golden sunrise lifting the darkness from the sky. “It’s beautiful,” I murmur.
“How’s that for your awkward morning after?” he asks, his hand flattening on my belly.
“It depends on what comes next,” I say, rolling over to face him, my hand settling on his jaw, the dark blond of morning stubble rasping my palm. “We kind of blew your plans to stay up all night. We never made it off the couch.”
He catches my hand and kisses it. “Then we can try again tonight.”
“You want me to stay again tonight?”
“Yes,” he says. “I do. And let me give you some incentive.” He rolls me onto my back and the next thing I know, he’s spreading my legs, settling between them, and his mouth is on my belly. “I want to add a little something to your awkward morning after.” His lips curve and he slides lower, settling his shoulders between my thighs and then he licks my clit.
I suck in air as sensations spiral through me, my hips arching toward his mouth. He licks me again and my sex clenches with how badly I want him inside me. “Reid,” I whisper, intending to tell him just that, but his mouth closes down on that oh so intimate part of me and I forget everything but what he is doing to me. He suckles and licks, his fingers stroking my sex, pressing inside me and I am on edge that quickly. I can’t help it. He seems to naturally know my body, and I’m at the arousing disadvantage of an overwhelming erotic and somehow romantic experience, of being woken up to Reid Maxwell’s mouth on my body with a sunrise as a backdrop. Already the build to that sweet blissful place is upon me and there really is no climb to the top. I’m just there. My body clenches around his fingers and then I’m spasming, my entire body trembling with release. It’s hard and fast and I melt into the cushion, a complete limp noodle.
“My God,” I whisper, looking down at him, expecting him to come to me, but he does not.
He kisses my belly again and stays where he’s at. “That’s how I’ll wake you up in the morning if you stay again. I promise.”
I raise up on my elbows and study him, wondering if he realizes that he’s a very generous, selfless lover. Actually, he’s generous in many ways, a contradiction to the hard-ass that he shows the world. But not me. He’s let me see beneath his stone exterior and I’ve never wanted to know him more. “I’ll stay,” I say, “but tomorrow morning, it’s my turn to wake you up properly and I will. I promise.”
His eyes light in a way they rarely light. “Is that right?”
“Yes, but we can practice tonight to make sure I get it just right. Or now. We could practice now.”
That’s all it takes and he’s on top of me. “Not now. This now.” His mouth is on mine, his cock pressing between my thighs, and then inside me. And there is no kink or play or teasing to this. It’s need. His. Mine. So much need. We are fast and hard, him thrusting, and me arching into each movement he makes. It’s wild and hot and like my orgasm, too fast. We shatter together and he is pure raw male perfection as he reaches beneath me, cups my backside and lets out a low, guttural moan as he shudders into his own release. He relaxes into me as I sink into the cushion, but we are only there for moments before he rolls us to our sides, facing each other.
“You, woman,” he growls.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a synonym for ‘I wish the fuck I knew.’ Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and then looks at me. “I’m not the guy you marry and have kids with. You know that, right?”
“I’m not the girl that wants those things. Why are you even saying this to me?”
“I’m not my father. I’m not, but I am hard, cold. I’m brutal, even. I’m not the man for you.”
“O—kay.” A knot twists in my gut. “So much for avoiding the awkward morning after.” I try to pull away.
He snags my leg with his leg, his hand settling on my waist. “I’m not the man for you, but I can’t seem to care. I can’t and I should.” Relief washes over me as he adds, “I don’t want to let you go. I don’t want to stop touching you. I don’t want to share you.”
He doesn’t want to share me? I don’t want to share him, either. “Then don’t,” I whisper.
“I’m not,” he says. “That’s what I’m telling you. I’m not sharing you. I’m not walking away, but you should. You should, Carrie, and—”
I lean in and press my lips to his. “I’m not and I should. I get it. You’ve warned me. I’ve warned me, but I don’t break easily.”
“One day you’ll hate me all over again. It’s not what I want but it will happen. Remember this moment. Remember that it’s not what I want.”
“We’ve already been at hate, Reid. That’s not where we’re at.”
“Not now,” he says, lacing his fingers with mine and kissing my knuckles before he seems ready to move on. Like he’s said all he can say. “Let’s go shower.”
I want to push him to talk to me, to understand where all of the hate comes from, but I sense this isn’t the time. “I have to shower at home with all my products. Maybe you can walk me there?”
“We’ll go get your things and come back here.”
“Reid—”
He kisses me again. “Let’s go get your things.” There is a hard push in his words that I could read as a demand, but I don’t.
I pull back and study him, and I’m right. It’s not demand. It’s more need. For me. This powerful man that I know could teach me so much, show me so much, needs me. At least for now. I don’t know when that ends or how it ends or if that’s with hate, but there is more to Reid Maxwell than meets the eye. And right now, I need him, too.
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s go get my things.”
He smiles. This man of stone smiles. And so, I smile, too.
***
Reid throws on sweats and I knot his T-shirt over my skirt, and we walk to my apartment, with his arm around my shoulders. We enter my apartment and I motion to my windows. “It’s not an ocean view, but the windows are cute and perfect.”
I glance over at him. “I love them.”
“They, and this place,” he says, scanning our surroundings, “are very you.”
I laugh at the play on my own words about his place and step in front of him. “I’ll bite. What does that mean?”
“It’s unique, feminine, and powerful.”
“Just not as powerful as you, but I’m okay with that.” I press my hand to his chest. “Knowledge is sexy and so is power and even money, but don’t worry, I don’t want yours. I want to make my own.”
His hands close down on my arms and he pulls me to him. “And you will. You already are.” He kisses me. “Go get your things. I still need to have coffee and you before we leave for work.”
“You already had me.”
“And it never seems to be enough.” He turns me and smacks my ass. “Go.”
Heat rushes over me with that smack, memories of me across his lap flooding my mind and body as he intends, I’m certain. I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it worked. I hurry forward and up my black steel winding stairs, which I also adore. I love this place. I don’t want to lose it. Maybe I don’t have to lose it. I might not be as cold as Reid, but he said he could teach me ways around that. Maybe he can. I refuse to believe destroying others is the only way to succeed and it’s a testament to my state of mind that I allowed myself to slip into that point of view.
Feeling more positive than I have in a month, I enter my bedroom and make my way through the bathroom to the walk-in closet in the back, a luxury in this city. I pull out a pale blue suit dress that travels well and hang it to the side before grabbing my overnight case and setting it on the stool in the center of the room. I’m just filling it with heels, hose, and lingerie, including a red silk slip gown, when I hear, “Pack for the weekend.”
At the sound of Reid’s voice, I glance up to find him leaning on the doorframe, his blond hair a sexy, rumpled mess. “Weekend?”
“I’m trying to fuck you out of my system, remember? How can I do that if you aren’t with me?” He delivers that statement in a deadpan voice, but I know he’s joking.
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