15. Reid
FIFTEEN
REID
Heat clung to my lips like a brand. The boy had kissed something awake in me I’d worked too damn hard to keep buried.
I should’ve known better than to touch him like that. Should’ve had more sense than to kiss him like I’d been starving.
But hell—I was starving. Have been for years .
And now, with his lips still parted, pupils blown wide, curls tousled from my fingers, he looked at me like I was gravity. Like he had no intention of stepping away from the pull.
Everything in me screamed to reach for him again. Just once more. Trace the edge of that perfect mouth with my thumb. Haul him against my chest. Claim him . Taste what I’d only let myself want in the quietest hours of the night.
Instead, I forced the words out, my voice rough and cracked like bark beneath a blade.
“This isn’t fair to you,” I said. Again. Softer this time. Useless, but I couldn’t stop myself. Couldn’t uncoil the guilt from around my ribs, the gnawing edge of it whispering I was too old for him. There could be no us . “You deserve more than?—”
“Don’t,” he interjected. His voice was sharp. Sure. So fucking sure. “Don’t you dare give me that noble speech like I’m some kid with a crush on his teacher.”
His eyes pinned me where I stood.
God , this boy.
This man.
This bright, complicated, maddeningly beautiful thing who’d wormed his way so deep into me I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began. He stood there like he already knew every inch of me, and wanted me anyway.
My chest clenched tight, breath stuttering like I couldn’t get enough air. “Ari...” His name came out like a warning, a plea, a prayer.
He leaned in, slow, deliberate. Every inch closer felt like another thread unraveling.
“I’m not asking for a ring,” he whispered. The words brushed my skin, softer than breath. “Not asking for forever. I’m asking for you .”
My hands flexed against my thighs, trying to ground myself in the burn of skin on denim.
I should’ve known better than to come here.
Should’ve stayed on the far side of this fence, the far side of this want.
But there he was—disheveled hair, sharp mouth, heart on his damn sleeve, offering himself up like I wouldn’t wreck him by accident just trying to hold him close.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I rasped, pulse thudding hard enough to shake me loose from myself. “I’ve spent years taking what I can get when it’s easy. Hookups. No strings. No mess. You think that’s what you want?”
Ari tilted his head slightly, curls falling across his temple like they always did when he was about to say something that’d push every one of my buttons.
“So what—you’ve been playing it safe with strangers who don’t know the first thing about you, and I’m the risk?”
Christ.
I looked away, jaw clenched tight. The porch rail under my hand bit into my skin, but I didn’t let go.
“This—what’s happening right now—it’s not nothing, Ari. You’ve gotta know that.”
“Yeah?” he said, stepping in closer, the edge in his voice soft but deliberate. “Then stop pretending I’m some kid with a crush and admit you want me.”
“You make it sound simple.”
His grin was anything but.
“Maybe it is. Maybe you’re the one making it complicated.”
My chest pulled tight. I wanted to gather him up, kiss those stubborn lips until neither of us remembered why this was supposed to be a bad idea.
Instead, I held still. “You’re twenty-two and fresh out of college. You’ve got a whole life ahead of you, and I’m not interested in being a detour.”
Ari didn’t blink. “Who said I was lost?”
“Don’t you get it?” My voice dropped low, torn somewhere between warning and confession.
“I’ve already tried building a life with someone who didn’t understand the kind of man I am.
It ended in divorce—not because I was unfaithful, but because I was honest. That honesty still wrecked things.
” I let the words sit there a second. “And if Sage knew what was going through my head right now—he’d take a swing at me. Hell, I wouldn’t blame him.”
Ari’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin. “Good thing he’s not here, then.”
I blinked. “That’s what you took from all that?” My voice was low. “Boy, I just laid out the wreckage of my damn marriage, and you’re out here clocking Sage’s absence like it’s a green light?”
He had the nerve to shrug, not sorry in the slightest. “You said it, not me.” Then quieter, eyes sparking with something unshakable: “And for the record? I wouldn’t let him.”
Ari’s words were matter-of-fact—like protecting me was already stitched into his spine, no questions asked.
I exhaled slowly. Tried to ignore the way his words wrapped around something inside me that hadn’t felt protected in a long time.
“That right?” I asked, voice rougher than I meant.
Ari nodded once, steady. “I pick who gets to hurt me.”
Damn.
I took a step closer, needing to feel the heat rolling off him again. The space between us shrank down to nothing. His breath hitched. Mine wasn’t much steadier.
“You saying I wouldn’t?” I murmured, fingers twitching like they wanted to touch but didn’t dare. Not yet.
“I’m saying if you did...” Ari’s voice dropped, so quiet I had to lean in to hear it, “...you’d feel worse about it than I would.”
God help me, I believed him.
My hand rose almost without permission, knuckles brushing along the line of his jaw. He leaned into it, no hesitation. My soft, bratty, fearless boy.
“Don’t tempt me,” I warned.
He tilted his chin up. “I think we’re past that.”
And maybe we were. Maybe the second I’d kissed him, we’d crossed the point of no return. Maybe it had happened long before that—somewhere between the time I heard his laughter at the barbecue his mom held three years ago and the time he was trying to rescue Whiskers, the cat.
My thumb traced the edge of his cheekbone.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I said again, but it didn’t carry the same weight now.
“You keep saying that,” he whispered, leaning closer, “and it keeps sounding more like an excuse.”
My restraint cracked.
And I lowered my head.
His mouth parted like he’d been waiting for my lips—hungry and sure and warm in a way that shattered every last bit of my resolve. My hand slid into his curls again, anchoring us, while his fingers clutched the front of my shirt like he didn’t care if it wrinkled, tore, or burned right off.
God, the way he kissed—like he had something to prove and nothing to lose. It lit a fuse deep in my gut. I angled us back until he bumped against the wall, bodies flush, breath hot between us.
His hips shifted just enough and I felt it—both of us hard, straining, pressed too close to pretend this was anything less than fire waiting to devour us.
Ari gasped into my mouth when I palmed his waist, let my thumb slide just beneath the hem of his T-shirt. Skin met skin. His whole body arched like it wanted more—wanted everything.
"Daddy," he breathed. Not a statement. A claim.
I could’ve drowned in it.
But then?—
The low rumble of an engine drifted in from the street, not loud but familiar in the way certain sounds could get etched into your bones over years of hearing them.
“It’s Sage,” I whispered, already peeling myself back from him.
Ari’s lips were kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed. “Probably saw your truck.”
Shit.
Ari licked his lips, not helping anything. “Relax. You didn’t leave a hickey. I think.”
Jesus.
I groaned and tried to look less guilty, straightening my shirt just as Sage’s boots crunched closer.
“Don’t say a word,” I muttered.
“Mouth’s shut.” He pretended to zip his lips.
The side gate creaked.
“Yo,” Sage called, voice casual. “You two out here?”
Ari straightened, swiping a hand through his curls like that would fix anything. “Back here,” he called, tone easy, like we hadn’t been seconds away from losing ourselves all over again.
Sage stepped around the corner a moment later, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, grin stretching easily across his face. He gave Ari a quick side hug, then offered me a fist bump. “Didn’t think I’d catch you both. Everything good?”
“Just checking in,” I said, somehow keeping my voice steady.
Ari nudged his brother with a crooked grin. “He wanted to see some of my sketches. Joke’s on him—I don’t have much to show. Just unfinished stuff that’ll probably stay that way.”
Sage laughed, bumping Ari with his shoulder. “Sounds like progress to me.”
Ari rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his mouth wasn’t fake.
I kept mine in check, heart thudding like it hadn’t gotten the memo. I wasn’t sure if it was guilt or nerves—or the simple fact that I wanted more. But I knew this: Sage could never find out what was happening between his brother and me.
And I had no damn clue how long I could keep it that way.
I backed up a step, hands sliding into my pockets. “Just wanted to check in.”
Ari bumped his shoulder into mine, subtle but bold. “Shame.”
“Was about to head out,” I said, glancing at Sage first—because that felt like the right move.
I turned to Ari then. Not for long, just enough to meet his eyes and give the smallest nod.
My chest tightened, but I kept my voice even.
“See you around, kid.” What the fuck! I’ve never called him “kid,” not since he was like ten.
“Boy,” Ari corrected under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
Damn brat.
Sage clapped me lightly on the shoulder before I stepped away. “Appreciate you looking out for him.”
“Always,” I muttered, already halfway to the gate.
And it was the truth. Even if it was getting harder to decide what looking out for him actually meant.
Ari turned back toward the swing like he hadn’t just been tangled up in me seconds ago. Like he wasn’t pink and perfect and untouchable in that way that made me want to scream.
He called after me. “Text me when you get home.”
I didn’t turn around. Just lifted a hand in silent agreement and kept walking—every nerve sparking, every inch of me already missing him.