Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
I'm into it
REED
Turns out, I’m not the only Herbert the Pervert among us. Lila continues to prove we’re more alike than different.
My cock went from flaccid to erect at warp speed once I realized what was happening. And just like that, my plan for tonight careened out the window.
Even after learning what Andrew shared about Lila, I wasn’t turning away from her. If anything, I wanted her more.
Sure, she and I need to discuss things about the case, but those topics suddenly don’t seem so important.
We can talk later.
She’s safe for the moment. And in my bed, coming down from a climax.
I don’t give a shit what provoked her to do something so out of character as to get off in front of me. I’m into it.
With her cheeks rosy, she forces her breathing to slow. I can’t take my eyes off her, even if she refuses to look at me. I thought the view of her in my bed and my shirt was memorable. And it is. But the euphoria on her face postclimax far surpasses it.
It takes a minute for me to find my words, but they finally come. Like Lila just did.
“You reeeally made yourself at home, didn’t you?”
Groaning, she hides her expression under both hands.
Fighting a chuckle, I tug one from her face, bringing it to my mouth. “Thanks for getting ready for me. You’ve made my job much easier.” I kiss her palm, then each knuckle.
All traces of humor fade suddenly when her scent invades my nostrils.
Holy shit. This is the hand she used to get herself off.
Unable to stop myself, I lick her fingertips one by one. My eyes roll back, and now I’m the one moaning. “Fucking hell, cookie. I forgot how delicious you taste.”
Keeping her eyes firmly shut, she rambles, “Please just murder me. I won’t put up a fight. Nobody will care enough to press charges. Dump me in the landfill.” Toward the end of her plea, her words slur slightly.
I gingerly tap her cheek. “Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.”
“Fun fact. Eyes don’t work this close to death. I’ll soon be one of the ghosts in your condo.”
I bark out an unexpected laugh at her nonsense. “Ghosts? The fuck?”
All her shame morphs into a fit of raucous laughter. She’s nothing but giggles, snickers, and guffaws as she rolls away from me. I take the opportunity to slide into the space behind her.
Lila is with me in my bed. Is this what people mean when they say they’re living their best life?
Even learning I might have ghosts won’t ruin my high.
Still cracking up, she peeks over her shoulder at me. “Get. Out.” More coughing laughs as she shifts farther to the other side of the bed. “Leave me to my mortification. I beg you.”
With needy hands, I stop her retreat and spoon behind her. “No chance of that happening.” The towel on her head flops in my face. “Lose the towel before it suffocates me.”
Her laughter recedes as she saves my life by freeing her hair from the cotton confinement.
“Sorry. I don’t want you to die. However, after what happened, one of us needs to go.
” She sighs forcefully. “Reed, please forget that ever happened. I couldn’t help it.
It isn’t my fault. It’s because of the—”
She cuts herself off, obviously unwilling to finish her sentence.
Despite being bricked up and ready to reclaim my woman, I can’t let that go. “Because of the what, Lila?”
“So FYI, you might have ghosts. They’re friendly, though. Just a tad rude at times.”
“Nice try, cookie.” I rise to my forearm and use my other hand to roll her to her back. “Look at me.”
Instead, she peeks at me through a tiny slit in one eye. “You’re gonna arrest me.”
This is going from playful to oddly worrisome. Someone should tell my dick that, though.
Reaching behind me, I turn on the lamp on my side table for a better view. “What are you talking about? It isn’t a crime to touch yourself in my bed. Why would I arrest you?”
The only way I’m cuffing her tonight is if she confesses to being directly involved in the murder or home invasions.
Then again, considering the taste of her sweet pussy on the back of my tongue, there’s another way I’d be willing to cuff her. If she’s into it. Fuck, that would be so damn hot.
But first, I need to figure out what the hell is going on with her. “Hey, it’s me.” I place a peck on the base of her throat. “We aren’t enemies anymore, baby. You can tell me anything. Just like the old days.”
My gentle prodding does the trick, and she gradually opens both eyes.
And damn, they’re red as hell. Still stunning, but definitely not as vibrant as usual. Her eyelids are thick too.
“Have you been crying about the peacocks again?”
As she studies my face, she shakes her head faintly. “No tears. Lots of laughing.” An adoring expression cascades over her, driving away the worry and embarrassment that were there moments ago.
Sloppily, she coos at me like I’m a puppy. “You’re sooo handsome, Reed. I could look at you forever.”
One of her hands runs up my arm, caressing my shoulder before working its way to my nape. She toys with my hairline. Her other hand lovingly brushes my cheek, her thumb stopping on my lower lip.
Suddenly, I’m less concerned about her red eyes.
I lower my upper body and slide my arm under her damp head so she can use it as a pillow. “We should brush your hair. It’s gonna be tangled.”
“Who cares?” Her breathing accelerates, and she scoots close to me. “You are so pretty. And sexy. You can’t be real.” She bites her lip. “Fuck, I want you, Reed.”
Despite being called pretty, which I’m unsure how I feel about, my head fills with a lustful fog from everything else she said.
She’s giving me all the right signals, and my body is totally on board. This is the perfect time to finish what we started in the car today.
Unfortunately, my head vehemently disagrees.
The eyes and a bit of slurring, I could potentially ignore. But not the absence of a reaction to detonating an F-bomb. Not my Lila. That I cannot abide without investigating further.
As much as I love the idea of Lila giving her prim side a rest around me, doing it in a way that has me questioning her sobriety is alarming. Especially when we’re so close to having sex.
I rewind everything I observed since I got home, cataloging the evidence like I was trained to do.
Kitchen cabinets left ajar.
TV blaring.
A disgusting array of food left open on the coffee table.
Red chunky eyes.
Slurred words.
Laughing fit.
Unbelievably horny to the point of touching herself in front of me, then acting as if it wasn’t an intentional seduction.
Unbothered by the prospect of knotted hair.
And she called me pretty.
Then she said fuck without even wincing.
Son of a bitch.
“Lila, are you drunk or high?”
She puts her index finger over my lips. “Shh. Confessions come later. After we come. Doesn’t that sound good?”
“Sweet sexy baby, I can’t fuck you if you’re under the influence.”
Sadly. Regrettably. Unfortunately. Tragically. And every other disappointed fucking adjective I have in my repertoire.
“Sure, you can.” Her eyes spring wide as she realizes what she unwittingly confirmed. “If I were high, I mean.”
“Thanks for validating my theory. Being high was more likely than drunk, given your mannerisms and the lack of booze here. Plus, you didn’t leave to get anything.”
Adorably, she harrumphs. “I know that, but how do youuu know that?”
Unapologetically, I admit, “I had building security monitoring the cameras in this hallway. And the guard was on the lookout for you. He would’ve called me if anyone came or left my condo.” I angle my head to the side. “And don’t get pissy about it. It was for your safety.”
“You’re too good at your job.” Her lower lip juts into a pout that looks edible. “Can’t you just pretend to be an average dude and fuck me while I feel this blissed out? I’ve never been this needy.”
“Please stop saying fuck. It’s making me rock hard.”
She slides her open palms up my pecks and locks her hands behind my neck. Then she shoves her breasts against me, teasing me painfully. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I give her the sternest glare I can manage, which is minimal given how cute she is and the pulsing of my cock.
“Lila, listen to me. Impaired people can’t consent.
My answer is no. I’m sorry. Believe me, I’m sooo damn sorry.
” I kiss her nose to soften the rejection.
“Why are you high, anyway? I didn’t know you were into that stuff. ”
“I’m not,” she insists in a whine.
“You got high on accident? Is that your story?” I tease. “Did my ghosts get you high?”
Snickering, she blows a raspberry in my face.
“After you left, I got to thinking about how messy things are. And I panicked. We’re talking fetal-position-level anxiety.
Everything piled up until it was burying me.
Your sister’s betrayal, whatever’s happening with you and me, the danger, the gory murder, and all the .
. . other stuff. I couldn’t cope and needed to give my head a break. ”
At this rate, she’ll tell me everything before breaking for air. Although I’d like to know what other stuff she’s referencing, it’s best to wait to see what else she might let slip.
Twirling her fingers in my hair absentmindedly, she charges on.
“Then I remembered Kenzie slipped a THC gummy into my purse a while ago. At the time, I was dealing with a lot of worries—still am, actually. It was for emergency anxiety. Given the way I was cracking up tonight, I couldn’t imagine ever needing it more. ”
Good old Kenzie. Cockblocking me from across town.
“After an hour, I had no more forks to give for Silas or Kenzie or all my other problems.”
“What’s happening with Silas?” I ask.