Chapter 8
EIGHT
DAWN
The light came first, threading through the blinds, laying across her skin. Reid had been watching it creep closer for the better part of an hour, the way it painted her hair in softer shades and caught the line of her shoulder where the sheet had slipped.
She stirred, a faint sound escaping her throat as she shifted against him. Her lashes fluttered, and then her eyes opened, unfocused at first and hazy with sleep. She blinked once, twice, before her gaze found his.
“You’re still here,” she murmured, voice low and rough from sleep.
Reid’s chest rose with a quiet breath. “Told you I would be.”
Her lips faintly curved, uncertain. Her hand slid over his chest, fingers idling against his skin as if she wasn’t sure. Then her eyes sharpened, watching him more closely. “You don’t regret it?”
He studied her, the way her brow pinched just slightly with the hesitation she tried to bury. “No,” he said, the word simple and unhurried. “Do you?”
She shook her head, but her throat worked. “I just… needed to know you weren’t going to tell me I imagined it.”
Reid brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his fingers linger against her cheek. “You didn’t imagine I was here. I’m here now.”
Her breath shivered, something loosening in her chest. When he leaned in to kiss her softly, she didn’t hesitate this time. She kissed him back like she was testing the shape of the truth against her mouth.
The kiss deepened, unhurried, his palm sliding along her side, memorizing her all over again. She shifted closer, sheets tangling, and her leg hooking over his hip. He felt her warmth, the soft press of her body against his, and let the kiss break just long enough to meet her eyes.
“Claire?” he said, a question folded into her name.
She whispered, “I want to.”
He kissed her again, slow and certain. The sheet slid lower as he moved over her, his mouth finding the hollow of her throat, then lower still.
She gasped when his lips closed over one breast, his tongue circling her nipple until it hardened under his touch. Her hands threaded into his hair, her back arching, pressing herself against his mouth.
He lingered, savoring the small sounds she made before trailing kisses down her stomach, tasting the heat of her skin.
When he pushed her thighs apart, she let them fall open for him without hesitation.
He kissed the inside of her knee, then higher, until his breath warmed the slick heat between her legs.
Her body jolted when his tongue touched her folds, a startled moan escaping her lips.
He held her steady, one hand firm on her thigh, as he licked her slowly, deliberately, circling her clit until her hips began to lift into his mouth.
“Reid…” she gasped, half plea, half warning.
He didn’t stop. He wanted her undone, wanted her to know what it was to be wanted this way.
When he slid two fingers inside her, her walls clenched tight, and she cried out, her nails biting into his shoulder.
He built the rhythm patiently, his mouth and hand working together until her body shook under his touch.
She came hard, crying out his name, her hips jerking and thighs trembling against his shoulders. He kissed her through it, until she sagged back into the sheets, her chest heaving.
By the time he came back up to her, she was flushed, eyes glassy, lips parted.
He kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
She moaned into his mouth, pulling him down on top of her, her legs wrapping around his waist. He slid into her slowly, burying himself inch by inch until he was fully inside her.
Her breath caught, her nails digging into his back. “God,” she whispered. “You feel…” Her words broke off into a moan as he began to move. The rhythm was unhurried at first, deep, each thrust dragging a cry from her throat.
He kissed her with every movement, his forehead pressed to hers, his hand cupping her cheek, steadying her.
She met him, hips lifting, taking him deeper.
The sound of their bodies filled the room, the slick slide of him inside her, the low groans he couldn’t hold back.
She clung to him, gasping into his ear, her voice raw with pleasure.
When she came again, it was with a sharp cry, her body tightening hard around him, pulling him with her. He groaned, thrust once, twice more, and spilled into her, shuddering, his mouth buried in the curve of her neck.
For a long moment, neither moved, just breathing, the heat between them mingling, their bodies still joined.
Their breathing slowly fell into rhythm again, the bed damp with sweat, her skin slick beneath his palms. Reid kissed her cheek once more, lingering before pulling back just enough to see her face.
Claire’s lashes were heavy, her lips parted, with her chest rising and falling in uneven waves.
He eased out of her carefully, his hand smoothing down her thigh as if to tell her he wasn’t going anywhere. She whimpered faintly at the loss, and he caught her closer, pressing her against his chest.
“I’ll be right back.” He slid from the bed, pulling on his boxers before crossing the small apartment. He grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the fridge. When he returned, she was still sprawled across the sheets, hair tangled.
He sat on the edge of the bed, cracking the water bottle and handing it to her first. She took it with a faint, grateful smile, sipping slowly.
When she finished drinking, he leaned down to brush his lips against her temple. “Shower?”
She nodded, wordless.
He helped her up, steadying her with a hand at her back. She leaned into him as he guided her to the bathroom, flicking on the light. The small space filled with steam as the water heated. He stepped in behind her, sliding the glass door closed.
The spray poured over them, washing away the sweat and salt of the night.
Reid let his hands linger on her, the glide of soap smoothing across her skin.
He worked the lather over her shoulders, down her back, kneading slow circles into the knots he found along her spine.
Claire exhaled, the sound a mix of relief and surrender, her forehead resting against his chest as if she’d forgotten how to hold her own weight.
He tilted her chin up and kissed her with the taste of water between them.
She answered with a low, hungry sound, her hands sliding over his stomach and down his hips.
Heat pooled low in his gut, but he held steady, taking his time.
He washed her hair next, fingers threading through the wet silk of it, massaging her scalp until her eyes fluttered shut and she nearly melted under his touch.
When the suds rinsed away, he pulled her close again, the water hammering over them both. She arched against him, slick and warm, her breasts pressed to his chest, her thighs parting easily when he nudged her back against the shower wall.
“Reid…” she whispered, her voice rough, the sound threading through him like a fuse.
He kissed her hard, pinning her there with his body.
The water made their skin slick, every movement heightened, and every brush of her against him sharper.
He lifted one of her legs over his hip, braced her with his hands, and slid into her slowly, the heat of her body overwhelming even with the water rushing over them.
She gasped, clutching his shoulders. “Yes!”
Her voice broke on the word as he thrust deeper, finding a rhythm that matched the pounding spray. She clung to him, mouth open against his neck, moaning as he drove into her. He kissed her shoulder, her jaw, her mouth, swallowing the sounds she couldn’t hold back.
The steam blurred everything but the feel of her.
Her body tightened, her nails scraping down his back, shuddering around him when she came, muffling her cry against his shoulder.
He followed her, groaning low, pushing deep before spilling into her, holding her pinned against the tile as the tremor racked them both.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, his forehead pressed to hers, the water rinsing them clean, the sound of their breathing louder than the spray.
Finally, he eased her down, kissed her gently, and reached to shut the water off.
He wrapped her in a towel first, then himself, before guiding her back to the bedroom.
She dressed slowly, her movements less guarded than they’d been hours ago, while Reid, shirtless and donning his tuxedo pants, padded into her kitchen. He found her coffeemaker and filled it with water. The smell of brewing coffee began to fill the apartment, grounding him.
His phone on the counter buzzed. Reid wiped his hands on the towel and glanced at the screen. The name there froze him. Ian. No number, no alias. Just the name, waiting.
Reid’s jaw tightened as the phone buzzed again in his hand, insistent. Behind him, he heard Claire’s footsteps approaching, light across the floorboards.
He answered before she could see the screen, “Hanlon.”
“Reid,” Ian’s voice drawled. “Glad you picked up.”
“Mr. Chase.”
“Call me Ian,” he said, smooth as glass. “I know you’re with Claire Bowman. Third-floor walk-up, east-facing windows, coffee brewing in the kitchen.”
Reid’s grip on the phone tightened. He glanced at the doorway Claire had just reached. His jaw set. “You’ve made your point.”
“No,” Ian corrected, calm but precise. “Not yet. My point is this: you’re inside now. Chase put you on the board, and you walked onto it without hesitation. That’s good. But it means the days of acting on instinct alone are over. You’ll be getting your orders from Noah Paulsen.”
The name landed like a bomb. Paulsen. Chase Ann Arbor’s XO. The branch’s field commander. He was a respected former SEAL but not known for being gentle.
“Paulsen’s leash may feel tight, but it will keep you alive. And I need you alive, Reid. I don’t waste assets. Not when they’ve bled as much as you have.”
Reid said nothing, his silence deliberate.