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.

“Maybe an extra night is all it will take for me,” I say, going along with him. “I’m not committing to more.”

He’s around the stool in a heartbeat, dragging me to him. “You think you can get rid of me that easily?”

“We’ll find out soon, now won’t we?”

He kisses me, a deep drugging kiss that makes my sex clench. “We already know it’s not that easy, for either of us. Pack for the weekend. That’s an order.”

“And outside of work, I should take your orders why?”

He kisses me again and this time his hand cups my backside and he pulls me hard against him, the thick length of his erection pressing to my belly. “Pack for the weekend, baby,” he says, his voice low, rough, affected.

The “baby” wins me over, that and knowing he doesn’t invite women to his apartment for a night, let alone a weekend. “I’ll pack for the weekend.”