19. Chapter Nineteen
Reid
Chapter nineteen
Carrie
Idon’t really spend a lot of time fretting over what to do about the panties Reid just had delivered. I curl up on the couch and call him. He answers on the first ring. “You got my package.”
Oh God, why does this man’s voice do funny things to my stomach? “And you,” I say, “tore my favorite panties today.”
“Favorite? Well then, I’ll have to give them a closer inspection. I was more interested in the woman wearing them.”
“You mean in shutting down my anger. Distracting me from the fight.”
“I like fighting with you, Carrie. Every time you get angry, I want to fuck you.”
“And yet you, intentionally pissed me off tonight when Gabe was in your office.”
“Connie was supposed to leave sooner than she left, and Gabe showed up without warning. Considering that fact, and how much I wanted to be inside you again, Connie did us a favor. Gabe would have interrupted and the office isn’t enough. I want you here with me.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Why? You don’t want me to fuck you out of my system?”
“I don’t want to be laying in your bed when you say: ‘get dressed and go home,’ like you did in your office.”
He’s silent for two beats before he says, “That’s not going to happen.”
“I just—No.”
“Carrie.”
“No, Reid.”
“Then meet me at the railing where we were last night. We’ll talk.”
“You want to talk?”
“Yes, Carrie.” His voice is sandpaper and silk. “I do.”
“Why?”
“Meet me.” He hangs up.
I press my phone to my forehead. What am I doing with this man? I stand up because apparently what I’m doing is going downstairs to see him because, well, I want to. I slip on sneakers, brush my hair, and spray perfume before I grab my wallet purse I use on occasion. I stuff a credit card inside for no reason other than I don’t like to be anywhere without money, slip the strap across my chest, and head downstairs. Once I’m in the lobby about to exit my building, butterflies flutter in my stomach. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? This man’s hands have been all over my body, but even as I ask the question, I know the answer. I’m on dangerous territory with Reid. I’m vulnerable with this man professionally. I don’t want to be vulnerable personally, but I fear it’s too late. I already am.
I exit the building into the starlit night and travel the sidewalk, ocean air lifting my hair, cooling my skin that only turns hotter when I find Reid standing at the railing, facing the water. He’s dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, and he’s just one of those people who manages to radiate power and masculinity no matter what he wears. He doesn’t have to turn around for me to know this. I’ve experienced his impact quite fiercely.
I inhale and close the small space between us, stepping to his side. Close but not too close. Reid reacts instantly, pulling me between him and the railing, the ocean at my back, his big, hard body at my front. His fingers tangle in my hair and he doesn’t speak or ask permission for what he does next. His mouth closes down on mine, his tongue licking into my mouth, and I don’t even think about resisting. I sink into the kiss, my arms wrapping around him, hard muscle flexing beneath my touch. For eternal moments that are still not long enough, I’m lost in this man, in his spicy, masculine taste. The way he consumes me. The way he—
He tears his mouth from mine, his forehead settling against mine, his hand on my cheek. “What are you doing to me, woman?” He pulls back to look at me. “Come home with me. Spend the night with me.”
My hand flattens on his chest. “No. I’m not doing that, Reid.”
“Because you think I’m going to send you away? I want you there way too fucking badly to be that foolish. But take me to your place if it makes you feel better. You have control there. You can send me away.”
“What are we doing?” I ask yet again.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You have everything to gain and I—”
“Have everything to lose,” he finishes for me. “I know. I can’t change that dynamic, but believe it or not, I now have a lot to lose as well. Come home with me.”
“No. That changes things. It feels different from the hate sex in your office.”
“So you can fuck me in the office, but not at one of our homes?” he challenges.
“Seems like that’s where we’re at.”
“Then let’s go to the office.”
I laugh. “We aren’t going to the office.”
He cups my face and kisses me before his fingers lace with mine. “Then let’s go to the coffee shop around the corner and talk. Yes?”
Talk. I do want to talk. I want to understand this man. I want to trust this man. “Yes.”
He kisses me again. “Or we can—”
“No,” I breathe out, but it takes effort. I want whatever he’s about to suggest. I want him to kiss me again. I want to be fully naked with this man and truly know what it feels like to be with him, to really be with him, but I don’t want to be owned. And Reid will own me if I let him.
“Coffee it is,” he says, leading me forward, and to my surprise, he folds our elbows and pulls me to him. “I’m holding on,” he declares. “I’m not letting you dart away.”
“Don’t be an asshole and I won’t.”
He laughs, a low, deep, masculine laugh that I feel in every part of me. “I can’t make a promise I might not keep.” He lifts our joined hands and kisses mine. “And I never make a promise I don’t keep, nor do I say anything I don’t mean.”
He lets those words linger between us during our short walk, and I decide they’re meant to drive home what he’s already stated. We are not enemies. We want the same things. We want each other. All words that mean more as my connection with this man grows more intimate. That doesn’t mean I proceed blindly or without caution.
We reach the door of the coffee shop, that really was just around a corner in one of the buildings along our path. He releases me and opens the door. “Ladies first,” he says motioning me forward.
“Honor and manners,” I comment. “If you weren’t such an asshole someone might think you were a nice guy.” I step in front of him, a memory punching at my mind. “But don’t worry, Reid. I listened to what you said to me after the call I heard between you and the DA. I won’t make the mistake of believing you’re a nice guy. If I did, I’d be in your apartment right now, and I’m not.” And with that, I walk into the coffee shop.
I stand at the door for a just a moment after Carrie enters the coffee shop, and I ask myself why I don’t want her to expect the worst of me when that’s exactly what I wanted only days ago. Hate means we fuck and move on and that’s what I do. I fuck. I move on. No one is ever hurt that way because I never claim to be anything but an asshole. But damn it, this woman is not every other woman. She’s under my skin. She’s in my head. I need to get her out before this becomes a problem, but for once in my life, I can’t seems to be in my vocabulary.
Entering the coffee shop, I scan to find us being the only patrons before joining Carrie at the counter where we order our drinks, the awareness between us jumping around like a live charge. When it comes time to pay, Carrie reaches for the purse at her hip. I catch her hand, honestly stunned that she’s trying to pay after all that she assumes that I’ve taken from her. “I’ve got it.”
“Thank you,” she says, those emerald eyes meeting mine, a hint of something in their depths I don’t understand, but I want to. Seems that I want a lot of things with this woman that I shouldn’t want.
Reluctantly I break our connection and turn my attention to the register. I pay for the coffees, and together Carrie and I walk to the end of the bar to wait for our order. I reach for her fingers and walk her to me, stroking a strand of hair from her face.
She catches my hand, her gaze probing, and this time I read confusion in her eyes. I’m confusing her, which isn’t a surprise. I’m right there with her, confused as fuck about what I’m doing with this woman. “Let’s sit,” I say, leading her toward a corner booth with a high back that blocks us from the rest of the room. It may not offer complete privacy, but it’s the closest thing we’ll get here until I convince her to come home with me.
“Drinks up!”
The shout comes before I even sit down. I cross the small space between me and the counter, grab the coffees and return to the booth where I slide into the seat beside Carrie, setting them down in front of us. “What are we doing, Reid?” she asks, our bodies automatically turning toward each other.
“You keep asking that.”
“You keep making me ask it,” she counters.
“We’re going to talk, though in fairness, I should tell you that I’m one wrong push left or right from taking you into the bathroom and fucking you.” I grab her leg and pull her closer. “It would take a very small push.”
She covers my hand on her leg. “Talking means answering my question in a meaningful way. What are we doing, Reid?”
“Apparently not fucking.”
“Because I don’t want to get fucked over.”
My hand slides to her face. “That’s not what this is. This is not about some agenda. This is just us. Not the company. Not a family name.”
“My family name is on the line.”
“Not with me or because of me,” I say, wishing like fuck it had nothing to do with my family. I lean in and brush my lips over hers. She rewards me with a shiver that travels her body and radiates into me. “I have no agenda with you, Carrie, besides wanting you.”
“Prove it,” she says. “No, let me be more specific. Prove that that I can trust you.”
I ease back and look at her, and when I would dismiss such a challenge from any other woman, I don’t even think about it with Carrie. “What does that mean to you, Carrie? What do you want from me?”