Chapter 29
It turns out the only available Uber is a rideshare. Reeve and I squish into the backseat of a Toyota Corolla with a very large man named Caruso, who proceeds to lovingly unwrap and eat his haddock burrito while his girlfriend, Tina, hits on the driver from the front seat.
I’m forced to half sit on Reeve’s lap, both my legs strewn across his right leg. His arm is slung around my shoulders, protectively keeping my body close to his and away from the chili lime burrito sauce dripping off the side of Caruso’s foil wrapper.
“It shouldn’t be too much longer.” Reeve leans his head in close, his arm slipping behind my back then under the hem of my coat to my hip.
I lean my head against his shoulder, but with my weight shifting, my legs start to slip.
He grabs them before they hit the ground, slipping his hand over my thigh, his fingers dipping just slightly under the hem of my skirt.
They brush the lace at the top of my thigh-high stockings as if they’re not quite sure what is causing the sudden change in texture. His fingers trace the seam between the silky nylon and the lace before creeping upward slowly until they meet the skin of my inner thigh.
“Dear god,” he growls into my ear. “Have you been wearing these all night?”
“All day, actually,” I clarify. “I had meant to buy the full, panty-hose-style ones, but the West Lake pharmacy doesn’t exactly have a big selection. I had to make do.”
The Uber slows to a complete stop and the driver lays on the horn at the sea of red taillights up ahead.
“Fuuuuuckkkk,” Reeve moans at the traffic, then tilts his head, his mouth once again at my ear. “I just want to get you home.”
His nose trails down the side of my neck before he plants a kiss at the base, just above the collarbone.
His fingers continue to trace a line along my skin, following the edge of my nylons.
The competing sensations lull me into a haze where I forget for a moment that we are in an Uber.
His fingers feel so good. I mentally urge them up farther and farther, my want intensifying with every quarter inch.
When he kisses my neck again, I have to grit my teeth not to moan.
“Ahhhhhhhh.”
My eyes fly open, wondering how that sound could have escaped.
But it isn’t me.
“That was fucking great.” Caruso crumples the empty foil of his burrito into his fist. “Where the fuck are we?” He looks around. “Teens,” he calls to his girlfriend in the front. “Let’s get out. This is taking forever.”
They abandon the Uber mid-block. Reeve and I decide to follow. He tips the driver, who doesn’t seem too fussed about this change in plans, pulling a U-turn and driving off down the less busy side of the street.
We walk hand in hand for half a block until Reeve tugs me around the corner of a building—pressing my back against the brick, his hand once again sliding up my leg to that spot just beyond the lace.
“Sorry,” he says, leaning down to kiss me. “I couldn’t wait.”
My fingers run through his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue parts my lips as his hand moves up another blessed quarter inch, the heat of his fingers a stark contrast to the cold night air.
I arch, pressing my back against the brick, inviting his fingers higher, but before he can give me what I want, a car passes, and a drunk male voice yells out a “Yeah, baby” before zooming off.
The distraction is just enough to break our kiss and pull us back.
“My place is three minutes away,” Reeve says, glancing down the street.
“Let’s see if we can make it in two,” I challenge, taking off at a questionable pace for heels.
It takes us four. Only because we stop to kiss again at a stoplight.
By the time we reach Reeve’s building, I have made multiple plans for what I want to do in his bed. I have a dozen more by the time we step into the elevator.
It makes the ride up excruciating.
Six different passengers get off at six different floors. Every ding of the doors only increases my want, so when it’s finally Reeve’s floor and we tumble out into the hallway, I have no patience left.
I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. He slides my skirt up and over my butt so he can pick me up and carry me the rest of the way to his door.
Just before we reach it, he glances down at my exposed thigh. “Fuck. It’s even hotter than I imagined.” He lets me down slowly but holds on to that thigh, hitching my knee high as he presses me hard against the door.
The angle of our bodies is filthy. If anyone were to step off the elevator now, there would be no mistaking what we’re up to. No denying exactly what we’re about to get up to next.
“We should go inside,” I tell him, not because I’m ashamed of anyone finding us in the hallway but because I can’t wait any longer.
He kisses me. And with the distraction of his lips and his hand reaching under my skirt to cup my ass, I don’t notice him remove his keys or press the fob against his lock.
I register only the door swinging open, my balance temporarily lost until a second hand snakes under my knees, lifting me into his arms.
“You are a magician,” I tell him as he closes the door with a kick of his foot and carries me down the hall toward the kitchen. We bump against the wall, knocking one of his art pieces on an angle. I try to fix it, but he growls at me, “Leave it. I need to get you in my bed.”
I weave my fingers into his hair; the ends have curled because of the snow, and I can smell his spicy shampoo as I nip his earlobe.
“Fuck, Jules.” He sets me down on the kitchen countertop. His body lingers between my legs.
The counter height brings us even. I enjoy this new angle, pulling his face to mine, kissing my way along his jawbone, making my way toward his lips as his hands slide under my camisole, thumbs tracing along the edge of my bra.
I shiver. “You’re distracting me.”
He uses my break in focus to kiss that spot in the dip in my neck. I’m helpless, my head falling back as my body arches toward him. His thumbs graze my breasts, brushing ever so lightly over my nipples. I inhale—shallow and quick. “You’re finding all my weaknesses tonight.”
He runs his tongue all the way up my neck to my ear, where he whispers, “Not finding. Remembering.”
My heart surges at his words, and at his hands, which have left my breasts in favor of slipping my camisole up over my head. I lift my arms, enjoying the feeling of silk sliding over my skin and the soft, long “fuuuuuccckk” that escapes his lips as he tosses it somewhere near the couch.
His hands return to my body, firm and purposeful. They reach for the zipper of my skirt, undoing it as far as it will go until I have to lift my hips so he can slide it off the rest of the way.
When it joins my shirt, he steps back, his eyes traveling the length of my body. I reach for one of my nylons, but he stops me, his hand gripping my wrist as he shakes his head.
“Let’s leave those on.”
He lifts my arm, kissing it lightly below my wrist, following the pulsing beat of my blood to that tiny dip inside my elbow, leaving a soft bite on my shoulder, then trailing his lips along my skin to the base of my neck.
“You know if you kiss me there, I’ll do anything you want.”
He stops only to trace his fingers along the waistband of my underwear, hooking a finger underneath, tugging me ever so slightly toward him.
“I think that’s where you have it backward, Jules. You’ve had me since the moment we met. I’ve been completely at your mercy this entire time.”
And with that declaration, my tiny black thong joins the ambiguous pile of clothes no longer on my body.
If I didn’t believe his words before, I believe them now in the greedy way his hands glide along the skin from my thighs to my knees, and in the urgency as he parts my legs, forgoing any teasing, to taste me with his tongue.
Each lick, each stroke, each tiny nip of my thigh tells me over and over what he said earlier on the street: what’s happening between us is real and good and on its way to being so much more.
My head falls back, and I barely register the green 1:43 on his microwave clock before it blurs as two fingers enter and then curl.
“Holy shit.” My head snaps back up, but my coherence lasts for only half a second before the sensation overtakes me and my head drops again, the microwave clock this time a distant blurry green.
He twirls his tongue over my sensitive spot, and the sensation, combined with the pressure of his fingers, brings me right to the edge.
“Reeve.” His name comes out in a moan. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”
He pauses only long enough to kiss me quick and hard on the lips. “That was my plan.”
“I thought you wanted me in your bed?”
Reeve laughs, his fingers and tongue resuming their positions. “We will do that, too. I have all sorts of plans.”
I succumb to the plan of the moment. The delicious friction building between my thighs.
My hips drive off the counter. Allowing his hands to slide under me.
To grip. To pull me closer. To give him all the access he needs for one final flick of his tongue, one last curl of his fingers to drive me around that final bend, tip me over the edge, where I free-fall.
I linger in that blissful state where everything in my body feels light. I’m only half aware of Reeve, who is kissing his way along my thighs to my stomach. Carving a slow, soft path from my navel to my lips.
“How you doing there, Jules?” His voice is so deep it acts as a tether for my soul as it slowly returns to my body.
“I’m good. No, I’m great. You said something about going upstairs?” My eyes open just as his lips meet mine, and I can taste myself on him.
His arm snakes under my knees as he lifts me off the counter, pulling my body to his, setting me down slowly, every inch of him pressing against every inch of me.
“We can do that,” he says. “But I want to kiss you first.”
His hand cups my jaw as he tips my face to meet his. His first kiss is soft. His second is a little deeper. The third makes me forget every kiss that came before him.
It is like every cell in my body resets. Forgets the bliss of the last few minutes. I ache for him as if I’ve never touched him.
“One of us is practically naked”—my hands reach for his dress shirt—“and one of us is not.”
I undo his buttons, one by one, until the final button gives way, allowing me to remove his shirt and toss it in some dark corner of the room.
My hands, now free, roam the hard planes of his chest, the curve of his biceps, his abs—all of the places I have only allowed myself to fantasize about occasionally for the last two years.
“If we don’t go now”—his hands cup my ass and pull me to him—“I may have to break my promise about making it upstairs. And I’m a man of my word.
” With that, he bends down and picks me up, scooping me into his arms. When we reach the stairs, I close my eyes and try not to think about the death trap we’re climbing.
But my fears are unfounded. He keeps me close and tight and safe until he lays me down in his bed with all the care of handling something precious.
“You distracted me downstairs,” I say as I reach for his belt. “I was trying to get you naked.” He lets me take off his pants, and I let him remove my bra. My thigh-highs stay, and his fingers return to ensure I’m still wet before he reaches for the nightstand for a condom.
He plays between my legs as he rips the condom open, pausing only to roll it on, then bends to kiss me behind the ear. “You still want this?” he whispers.
“I need this.”
“Thank god.”
He pushes inside me. His thickness fills me in a way that makes me cry out and cling to him.
“You okay?”
“So good.”
It’s so, so good as he picks up speed, the bed beneath us rocking along in rhythm.
“I’ve waited—” He groans.
“Me, too.”
“It’s even better than—”
“I know—”
The rest of the words are lost to the pounding of our bodies, his fingers intertwined with mine, and the way he kisses me, as if he needs every part of me closer.
He waits for me to come, and when I cry out, giving in to the euphoric rush, he gives one last hard thrust, his body collapsing onto mine, his heart beating so hard I can feel it all the way to my core.
He kisses me softly on the temple before he rolls out of bed to dispose of the condom.
Then he returns a moment later, slipping under the covers and pulling my body into his.
“I like you in my bed,” he whispers as his breaths slow and become even.
I snuggle in closer, thinking only how much I like it, too.