20. Reid
TWENTY
REID
The morning light poured through the bedroom window.
Ari was still asleep—sprawled on his stomach, cheek pressed to the pillow, lashes dark against his skin.
His lips were parted just enough to show the tiniest hint of teeth.
One arm was tucked beneath him, the other stretched across the bed like he’d been reaching for something in his sleep.
Or someone.
Me.
I should’ve looked away. Should’ve gotten up, pulled on some boxers, started coffee. Done literally anything besides stare like I was memorizing him.
But I didn’t.
Because this—this right here—was the part I’d never let myself want.
And I wanted the hell out of it now.
His back was marked from where I’d held him too tight. Not bruises—not quite—but imprints of fingers, reminders that he’d let me take him, guide him, keep him. The lace was gone, crumpled in the corner of the room. His thighs were still slightly parted under the sheet.
Jesus.
I ran a hand down my face, trying to get my blood pressure to cooperate. I was thirty-six. A grown man. I’d fought fires. Watched friends get hurt. Been to more funerals than anyone my age should.
But none of that scared me like the way I felt when I looked at him.
I’d meant what I said last night.
If I touched him, really touched him, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
And now?
I didn’t want to.
He stirred a little, nose scrunching. I shifted closer on instinct—not to wake him, just to be near. My hand found the small of his back, thumb brushing gently over warm skin.
Ari hummed, half-asleep. “You watching me, old man?”
“Yep.”
His eyes cracked open just enough to meet mine. Still bleary. Still soft.
“Creeper,” he mumbled, and buried his face in the pillow.
I grinned. “You love it.”
He didn’t answer, but the little smile tugging at his mouth said enough.
I pressed a kiss to his shoulder and lay there a little longer, letting myself have this. Just this.
No pressure. No confessions. No need to explain that I’d been in love with him longer than was probably wise.
But I wasn’t scared anymore.
I’d made my choice the second I kissed him.
Now I just had to be brave enough to say it out loud.
He stayed half-buried in the pillow, mumbling something I couldn’t make out.
“What was that?” I said, voice low.
“I said I’m never moving again. I’ve decided. This is my final form.”
“You’re gonna starve in like three hours.”
“I’ll die full of dick and fireworks. Worth it.”
I huffed a laugh and leaned down to press a kiss behind his ear. “Classy.”
“I am very classy,” he said, turning just enough to meet my eyes. “You knew that when you seduced me in your patriotic cargo shorts.”
“I wasn’t wearing cargo shorts.”
“Well, that was your first mistake.”
I rolled onto my side, elbow propped up so I could look at him. “You’re in a mood this morning.”
Ari smirked. “You dicked it into me.”
“That so?”
He nodded, smug and sleepy. “Ruined me.”
My hand trailed down his spine, slow and steady, until I reached the dip just above his ass. His breath caught. Not from fear. From memory.
“I don’t regret a single thing about last night,” I said. “Except maybe not doing it sooner.”
That earned me a look. Eyes wide, mouth soft.
“You don’t regret it?” he asked. “Even if Sage finds out? Even if it gets messy?”
I let the question hang for a moment. Let the fear in his voice settle between us.
Then I said, “I’ll deal with Sage. That’s not your job.”
Ari swallowed hard. “He’s my brother.”
“And he’s my best friend.” I leaned in, kissed the spot just below his jaw. “But he’s not the one I woke up beside. You are.”
He blinked fast, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that. Then: “God, you’re being nice.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s allowed.”
“Mm.” He rolled to his back, one hand behind his head. “I still want to blow you.”
That made something throb in me, sharp and immediate. “Yeah?”
He looked over, smug again. “I mean, seems unfair that you’re walking around all—” He gestured vaguely in the region of my dick, “— full of unresolved trauma.”
I snorted. “It’s not trauma, baby.”
“You’re telling me that wasn’t the most insane orgasm anyone's ever had?”
“You didn’t have mine .”
“Oh?” He grinned. “Is that a challenge, Daddy?”
I leaned over him, hand braced beside his head. “No, sweetheart. That’s a promise.”
His breath hitched—less playful now, more heat under the skin.
But I didn’t push. Not yet.
Instead, I kissed him slow. The kind of kiss that said we had time. That said I’d still be here in an hour, and the next day, and maybe longer if he’d let me.
When I pulled back, his eyes were darker. His voice softer.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m falling for you.”
My chest pulled tight. Not in fear. Just in awe.
I cupped his cheek. “I’ve been falling.”
His smile bloomed slow and sure. “Guess we’re both doomed.”
“Guess so.”
We stayed like that for a while—limbs tangled, morning sun climbing the walls, nothing between us but quiet and heat.
And for once, I didn’t feel the need to run from it.