Chapter 12
Reese
I crawl into bed and roll my eyes as yet another text from Vivian chirps on my phone. I swear to god, if I have to hear about that stupid report one more time…
Well, tonight is the night. I’ve decided to just grit my teeth and get it done so that my sister can get off my back.
I pull my computer into my lap and open my word processor with the best of intentions. But it isn’t long before I’m on Facebook scrolling through my feed. And one thing leads to another and I end up on Sophia’s wedding blog, reading about the floral arrangements she’s ordered to decorate the Las Vegas chapel where the ceremony will take place. Next thing I know, I’m fully immersed in a documentary about a one-legged stripper who left Sin City to officiate weddings in a small town called Intercourse, Pennslyvania.
Two hours and a box of leftover donut holes later, I’ve made exactly zero progress on this damn sales report. At this point, all I want to do is sleep.
Grrr!
I climb out of bed. I’m pacing the floor in front of my window now. I should just tell her flat out that I’m not going to do it but then I’ll have to hear her lecture me on how I’m not pulling my weight. I’m so over it. I tug on my hair in frustration.
Something out in the yard catches my attention. I step closer to the window and peer down at the silhouette hunched over on the back step of the house next door. I lean closer and realize that Leo is sitting alone in the dark, shirtless, with a cigarette burning in his hand.
The house looms behind him in complete darkness, sheathing him in gloomy shadows that seem to be swallowing him up, just like his grief is. I should probably look away. He seems like a private man. He wants his space. His privacy. I know that. But my curiosity is so strong, so overwhelming that I press my face closer to the window and look down at him, wondering what it’s like inside of his head.
I don’t know very much about him. We aren’t exactly friends. It’s not like we stand around and chit chat with each other when he picks up little Brenton every evening.
But the little bit that he’s shared with me is absolutely heartbreaking. I’m so intrigued by him. So many questions swirl in my head as I watch him from this distance. I want to know the contents of his thoughts. They seem to be torturing him. Such a beautiful man who’s obviously carrying heavy burdens.
He brings the cigarette to his lips and tilts his head back as he takes a long drag. And across the distance between my bedroom window and his back porch, he sees me.
I stand frozen. I’ve been caught. Just like the snoopy, little neighbor that I am.
He doesn’t look away. But neither do I. We stare at each other for a long beat.
Okay, Reese. You can’t just stand here for the rest of the night. You have to do something. You have to move.
With a small wave and a smile he probably can't see from this far, I back away from the window and drop down onto my mattress, feeling guilt and embarrassment mix with my curiosity. But the nagging voice at the back of my head tells me that I need to talk to him. It’s the right thing to do. I saw the utter devastation in his face when he looked at me. Even across the distance, I could feel it. I can’t just turn away. I need to go to him.
He needs a friend tonight. That can be me.
Still unsure of my decision, I pull on a chunky sweater and wrap it around my body, sliding the hood over my head as I take hesitant steps down the stairs. I push my feet into my rain boots at the back door and my stomach is in knots as I move across the lawn toward him.
I can feel his energy pulsing across the space between us. His eyes are like those of a predator as I approach. Dark. Intense. Focused right on me. I’m the foolish prey, knowingly walking straight into a snare. Still, I move toward him, a lamb willingly going to the slaughter.
“Hey…” My voice comes out high and squeaky and my breath fogs up the cold air.
My brain is still screaming at me to retreat. To turn back. Danger! Danger! I can’t fight the magnetism I feel toward this man, so the smartest option would be flight. Retreat. Run away from him. But now, my body is lowering itself to the stoop next to him, ignoring my brain’s warnings.
All he offers me is a nod as he brings the blazing stick of tobacco to his lips again.
His elbows land on his knees and his head hangs toward the ground, watching the orange glow of the cigarette tip. My eyes roam over the vast expanse of his muscular back. Sitting there wordlessly, I imagine what it would be like to run my fingers over those miles and miles of smooth manpower. What it would be like to lie beneath him and watch those muscles clenching and rolling with pleasure.
His gaze snaps to me and he stares, silently asking me what the hell I want. His lips are flat. His expression hard. But beneath the anger, there's pain. Scorching pain. The vein in his neck throbs. I want to move my hands over his tight shoulders and down his wide back, rub out the tension. I want to make him better.
I swallow past the tension in my throat. “Aren’t you cold?” I ask in a quiet voice. I shiver just watching him.
He drops his gaze to the ground again and one of his shoulders rises and falls nonchalantly. “I don’t really feel anything anymore.”
The moonlight spills down onto the porch, smoothening his rough demeanor. With his cigarette clenched between his fingers, he reaches for the red party cup that sits at his bare feet. Whiskey. I can smell it. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and it's an utterly erotic sight.
We sit in silence for a long while. It’s not an awkward silence. It’s companionable. Soothing in a strange way.
He suddenly glances at me over his shoulder again. That mussed up hair, the overgrown stubble on his chin—he’s so handsome. Not merely a man. He's a majestic beast. A beautiful, virile creature covered with horrid wounds.
With a hitched brow, he extends the red plastic cup my way. I'm not a big drinker but I accept the offer anyway.
The whiskey blazes a fiery path down my chest, warming me instantly. I wince and he smirks at my reaction as he wordlessly snatches the cup back and takes a sip. He barely reacts to the sharp taste. My lips tingle at the visual of his mouth wrapped around the rim where mine was mere seconds ago.
I wonder if he tastes me, if he likes it.
When his eyes tilt up to mine, I realize that I'm staring. I flush, cheeks hot. Looking for a diversion, I reach for the cigarette in his hand.
I’m not a smoker.
His brows hitch further and he shakes his head ‘no’. "Cigarettes are bad for you," he tells me with a half-smile as he brings it to his lips.
I giggle incredulously, my laughter echoing in the quiet of the night. "Then why are you smoking?"
He leans back against the creaky, wooden rung behind him and blows a ring of smoke into the air. He speaks slowly, his voice laden with resentment. "Because I'm an adult with adult problems. Stuff that optimism and wishful thinking can’t solve. I need a..." His eyes fall to my mouth and linger there. "...a distraction."
My skin tingles under his attention and a throb builds in nerves. "A distraction?" I wish my voice didn't sound so needy, almost pleading to be that bad-for-you thing that he just can’t resist.
He doesn't answer. He just stares off into the cosmos, blowing another circle of chemicals into the air. When he turns his head and our eyes catch again, my cheeks blaze. My stomach coils tight under his intense blue-eyed stare.
He taps his cigarette against the edge of the step and watches the ash fall. “I’m trying to escape,” he says hoarsely. “So don’t ask me about me. Tell me about you. What are you doing out here? What’s got you awake at this hour of the night?” His lips twitch like he might just smile but then that veil of apathy slips right back over his eyes.
I lean back and stare up at the star-specked sky. “Trying to avoid my responsibilities.” He quirks a brow just a touch. I giggle softly and explain. “My sister wants me to write some stupid sales report. I’ve been dragging my feet for weeks.” A fleeting feeling of guilt rolls through me as I say it. “I’m bad, huh?”
I glance over for his reaction. His expression stays blank. Now, I feel the need to justify. I don’t want to come across as a loafer who shirks her obligations.
“Viv is amazing. She’s smart and ambitious and I look up to her. I really do, but she’s just…domineering sometimes. She doesn’t seem to remember that she’s not the boss. We’re partners. She doesn’t get to dictate things to me. Y’know?”
His facial expression has barely moved since I started talking.
“She and Charlie are such a pain. They treat me like I’m a kid. They never take me seriously…” I sigh and gaze out into the quiet night. “And they just think that I’ll put everything aside at the drop of a dime to help them—which I will. Because I love them. But they take advantage of that. They just don’t respect me.”
My ramblings sit unanswered in the still air. Embarrassment rushes up my neck to my cheeks. I really don’t know when to stop talking, do I? I should probably leave. Leo obviously wants to be alone and here I am, burdening him with my presence and my yapping. I should go.
But just as I’m about to rise to my feet, his voice pierces through the silence. “So, make them.” I turn my head in his direction. “Make them respect you.”
I snort a laugh because that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “That won’t work. They’ve always been like that with me. I think it’s because of the way my parents treat me.”
“Your parents?”
“My parents treat me like I’m the Second Coming. They worship the ground I walk on. After Vivian and Charlie were born, they decided they were done having kids. Three years later, they hit a rough patch and my mother thought that a baby was the solution. That a baby would save their marriage.” I laugh even harder. “And nine months later, out I popped. Eight pounds, seven ounces of ‘hero’ and my parents are together to this day."
Something like sympathy covers his face. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“It is,” I shrug, “but helping people feel better makes me feel purposeful. My friends say I have a savior complex but I just want people to feel good…” My voice trails off.
Leo’s body seems to tense just a touch. I can’t quite be sure. He looks away, elbows on his knees again. “I bet you think I need saving,” he mumbles and shoves his fingers through his disheveled hair.
“We all do. In some way, I guess…” On the outside, he’s strong and broad with lean, tattooed muscles vining around his towering frame but I’m beginning to grasp just how fragile this man really might be.
A sound that might be a chuckle causes Leo's shoulders to jerk. “You’re just a regular superhero, aren’t you?” He drags on his cigarette. “Cupcake Girl. Saving the world, one sugary treat at a time…”
I stare at the back of his head. I feel silly. Who am I to think I could make this complicated man feel better? "Ugh! Don’t mind me. These are just the ramblings of the fat, nosy cupcake addict next door."
Leo twists his body slowly until he's facing me. Wordlessly, he drags his gaze from my rubber boots all the way up to the hoodie covering my head. He frowns but he doesn’t say anything. I squirm and the masochist in me wishes I could read his thoughts as his gaze lingers on my face.
Flushed, I look away in embarrassment. Really need to stop talking. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth to keep quiet.
Then, he leans in and I feel his thumb on my chin, right beneath my mouth. My chest heaves on a startled inhale and electricity fizzes through my veins. My eyes go to his face and his focus is trained intensely on my mouth, his expression making me shiver. His finger presses down, gently pulling the skin and causing my bottom lip to pop out of my mouth with a wet sound.
That one simple motion sucks all the air out of my entire universe.
I feel his breath skirt across my lips when he says, "I wish you’d stop saying mean things about yourself. I'm a huge fan of your curves. You should be proud of your body just the way it is." He licks his own lips, seemingly transfixed by the sight of my wet, swollen flesh.
My entire body is burning up despite the frigid air seeping through my sweater. This feels so intimate, almost forbidden. The atmosphere buzzes and crackles with temptation. We could be each other’s little secret. It would be so easy.
“Sorry for staring,” he says in a coarse voice. “Don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You’re just…” His voice drops dangerously low and now he’s searching the depths of my eyes with his crystalline stare. “Is your gorgeous, little body the solution to all of my problems, Reese?” He says the words almost like he’s thinking out loud.
Lust thrums at my nerve endings, corroding my good sense, my morality and every fiber of my self-restraint.
He could have me. Right here, right now, in any position of his choosing because I don’t know how to fight this attraction anymore.
And then, his attention snaps, the trance broken. “God, what’s wrong with me?” He looks away, a trembling hand bringing the cigarette back to his lips. With a tense exhale, he breathes out a cloud of smoke.
I can hardly find my voice. "Leo, I..."
His eyes press shut. "God, I want to kiss you right now," he growls like an animal struggling against his leash.
My voice is husky and thick when I say, "So kiss me."
The heat in his eyes burns a hole clear through the pit of my stomach. That heat radiates all through my body.
Without looking away from me, he crushes the tip of his cigarette on the stair beside him. Extinguishing the flame just as the fire inside of me roars.
Our bodies keen closer as if pulled by something potent and invisible. His fingers slide through my hair, slowly curling around my scalp as he sucks in a deep breath. He holds my head firmly and his mouth comes down on mine.
It's a tentative brush of flesh on flesh. He’s holding back. I wonder if he's as afraid as I am.
I’m terrified.
I've never been with a man who makes me feel the dizzying array of things that Leo Montgomery does. He's the kind of man you get swept up in, consumed with, overwhelmed by. And I'm not a particularly tough girl.
One big, strong hand settles on the center of my back and presses me to him. He slowly sucks my bottom lip into his warm mouth and he groans as his shoulders relax. He exhales roughly, filling my nostrils with a smoky, addictive scent that makes me mewl and clench my thighs.
Both his arms are around my back now and my arms are tangled around his neck. His tongue pushes into my mouth. I taste his cigarette, his whiskey, his pain. Maybe I should pull away from this damaged man. Instead, I twist my tongue around his and we savor each other, falling deeper into this moment as the laws of gravity cease to apply.
My mind tries to assimilate the fact that the hot dad next-door is kissing me. With tongue. Groaning like I'm some irresistible vixen.
Feels like I’ve stumbled into some alternate universe. And I’ve decided—I’m staying here.
Because I've never been kissed like this. He's fervent but patient. Tasting me with this slow, hungry lust that has my thoughts foggy and my limbs weak. With each flick of his tongue, I can feel how much he needs to be doing this right now…although he knows that he shouldn't.
As for me? There's an enthusiastic little man with a tennis racquet inside my chest. He's using it to slap my around with my heart.
Leo pulls back gently. With his eyes squeezed shut, he presses his forehead against mine and trails a hand up and down my arm. He exhales jaggedly. "Shit!"
"Leo..." I don't want him to feel bad about this. I can tell how much he needed to be close to someone just now. He needed to kiss me.
He leans back, eyes down at his feet as his chest rises and falls harshly. He puts space between us then clears his throat. "Let me walk you to your door." Rising, he doesn’t look at me as he waits for me to do the same.
My thoughts swirl madly. My head is light. My gut coils at the regret beaming in all directions from Leo’s rigid posture. I wobble as I stand.
When he hears the heavy thud of my rain boots on the wooden step, he begins our procession, leading me across the lawn and up to my back porch. He stands back and lets me glide the door open with my trembling hand. Drawing a shaky breath, I turn to face him one last time.
We stand there in silence, watching each other. The air is pulsing. Yes, that kiss was electric but we both know it wasn’t enough. We both want more. My eyes flutter shut and I lean toward him to feel his lips again.
But his heat disappears completely.
"Good night, Reese."
Stunned and disappointed, I open my eyes and find him backing down the stairs. His eyes are still dark with a heady combination of lust and uncertainty. Despite it, he turns around and plods across the yard, into his house.