Chapter 33 Reeves
THIRTY-THREE
Reeves
The Crowd: By the second line, the procession is unrecognizable from what it was at the dirge. Loss and joy have become the same moving thing.
Her fingers close around mine without hesitation, the grip firm and certain in a way that answers every question I’ve been circling since she stepped off her porch earlier.
Warmth moves up my arm and fills my entire body. I've been resisting the urge to touch her, to pull her into me, to press my lips on hers.
I want her so badly it hurts. And in this simple gesture, she's giving me permission.
She stands without letting go and pulls me with her, heading straight for the sliding glass door like this is already decided. I don’t stop to think about it. I don’t slow her down. I just follow.
The door slides open, and she steps through. I step inside after her, closing it behind us and flipping the lock out of habit. The click is startling in the sleeping house.
The den is dark and quiet, except for the under-counter lights coming from the kitchen and a single lamp beside the sofa. It's the kind of silence that makes you aware of every sound, every movement.
She keeps walking, tugging me with her. Not that I need any convincing to go anywhere she wants me to go with her.
My focus narrows to the nip of her fingers in mine and the way my body reacts before I can slow it down.
Charli never once looks back to see if I’m still there.
I follow her down the hallway, watching the movement of her shoulders, the way the fabric of that dress shifts against her as she walks, and I have to adjust my stride just to keep from crowding her, from closing the distance too soon.
We pass Benjy’s door, cracked just enough for the dim green nightlight to spill across the hallway floor. The slow rhythm of his breathing gives me pause, enough to register, not enough to slow me down.
Charli slows when she reaches her bedroom and keeps hold of my hand as she turns the handle. The door opens into a dark room, the only light coming from behind us, and she doesn’t step in right away.
I step in close instead.
She’s right there, close enough that I can see the dip of that dress at her back, the loose strands of her hair brushing the curve of her neck, and I’ve been trying not to touch her all night.
That ends here.
My hand comes up without thinking, finding her waist, pulling her back against me before she can think better of this.
“Charli.”
Her name comes out low as she looks up at me, steady and sure, and whatever question might have been there earlier is gone.
Her back hits the wood with a soft thud, and then my mouth is on hers.
The kiss isn’t gentle. Her mouth opens against mine right away, her breath warm against my skin. Her hands bunch in my shirt and drag me closer until my front hits hers, and there’s nowhere left to stand but inside her space.
I grip her hips to steady us, but it only pulls her tighter against me. Her body gives without hesitation, pressing in like she’s done fighting it.
My head tilts, my mouth moving harder on hers before I can check it. I’ve been holding this back since I drove up this afternoon, since she brushed against me at the fairgrounds and didn't pull away.
Her fingers tighten in my shirt, tugging me forward, and I follow without thinking. Her nails rake across my scalp, and I groan against her mouth. The sound tears out of me from somewhere low in my gut. She kisses me harder, her mouth taking the sound as it leaves me.
My hands slide up her sides, thumbs brushing the curve of her ribs through her thin dress. She arches into my hands, pressing closer instead of pulling away.
"Reeves."
My name breaks from her lips like a prayer and a curse wrapped together. I press closer, pinning her fully against the door, letting her know exactly what she does to me.
My hard dick grinds into her low belly.
Her hands move to the hem of my t-shirt. She lifts it slowly, leaving goosebumps on my skin. I grab the back of my shirt behind my neck and help her, pulling it over my head and throwing it to the side.
I can't wait any longer to have her against my naked body.
When her palms flatten against my chest, skin to skin, I let out an audible breath. I catch her wrists, pressing them back against the door on either side of her head.
She looks up at me, her eyes dark. Her breathing comes in short, sharp bursts that match mine.
"God, I want you so bad."
Her response comes without words. She lifts her chin, mouth finding mine again with renewed hunger. The kiss goes deeper this time, more demanding. Her tongue slides against mine, not holding anything back.
My hands release her wrists, sliding down to grip her thighs and lift her onto me. She wraps her legs around my waist without prompting, trusting me to hold her weight.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, and she trembles against me. I don't think it's from uncertainty. Maybe she's feeling the same overwhelming need that's been eating at me since I first saw her in her driveway.
She's wet. Holy shit, she isn't wearing any fucking underwear.
"You're so wet for me."
"You have that effect, Reeves. I want you to touch me."
Her heat presses against my lower stomach as she shifts in my hands. I slide my hand between her thighs, brush over her, then bring my finger to my mouth.
"You taste so good."
I carry her away from the door, her legs tight around my waist. The room spins slightly in the dim light filtering through her curtains, but I find my footing.
Her mouth moves against my neck, teeth grazing my skin. The sensation shoots through my nervous system, awakening muscle memory I'd buried with our last goodbye.
I set her down on the bed, hands immediately finding the hem of her sundress. The yellow cotton I watched her wear all day is light in my hands. My mouth watered the way it caught the light at the tank show, how it flowed when she walked.
I bend down over her, dragging my tongue over her shoulder. Her skin is salty and warm.
"I've been thinking about taking this dress off all day," I whisper in her ear. "If I'd known you didn't have panties on, I might not have been so strong."
The confession comes out rough against her ear. Her laugh is breathless, surprised.
"I just took them off tonight when I came in to use the restroom. I was thinking about you when I did."
Jesus.
My fingers bunch the fabric, lifting it slowly. She raises her arms without hesitation, and the dress slides up and over her head in one smooth motion. The cotton whispers as it hits the floor.
She's completely naked, sitting on the bed with her legs spread for me. The sight of her stops my breath.
I didn't get to study her last night. It was fast and furious and insecure.
Tonight is different. She lets me look at her and run my finger over her breast and follow the lines of her smooth body down to her belly button. She leans back on her hands, letting me fully take her in.
Curves I remember mapped with different hands, different knowledge. She's fuller now. Softer in some places, stronger in others.
This is the sexy body that carried our son for nine months.
The contact burns. Every nerve ending fires at once.
"Are you going to stand there staring all night, or are you going to take me, Petty Officer Stone?"
The way she says my name destroys any remaining hesitation. My mouth finds the tender spot behind her ear, tasting her salt. She shivers.
She tugs at my belt, fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle. The small imperfection makes this real, not a memory, not a dream.
When she has the belt off and the zipper down, I help her push my pants and boxers down to the floor. I step out of them and climb over her, bracing on my knees.
She pulls herself further up on the bed.
When she pulls me down with her, I catch myself on my hands to keep from crushing her. The weight of her body beneath mine, the way her body moves under mine, is exactly the same. Being with her like this is surreal, like a dream that is somehow real.
My grip tightens on her back.
I move my mouth down her collarbone, finding the spots that make her breath hitch. She bows under me, breathing harder each time I hit the same spot.
I spread her legs further open with my knee and position my cock at her wet, throbbing opening, and stop short of pressing in.
"Do you want me inside of you?"
"Yes. Now. I want you, Reeves."
Her hands find my ass and pull me into her. I let out a moan as my cock fully seats inside her. I don't want to move, I just want to stay here forever, with her wrapped around me, holding me.
She clenches around me, her tight pussy squeezing me, leaving me desperate for more. I slowly pull back, stopping short of pulling out, and then slam back into her.
She calls out for more.
I catch her hand, pressing it into me, where my heartbeat hammers against my ribs. Her palm is warm, steady. Grounding me when everything else spins.
Her name comes out rough. She looks up at me, eyes dark in the dim light. There's no hesitation there as we are in sync, moving in and out, both of us in rhythm without thinking.
I kiss her again as I thrust in and out, slower this time. I let myself taste her properly and remember how she moves beneath me, what makes her gasp.
I love the small sounds she makes when I find the right spot.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. The sensation sends heat straight through my core. I remember this. The way she fits against me. How right this felt even when everything else was falling apart.
My hands slide down her sides, relearning curves that are familiar but changed.
She arches into my touch, back curving off the mattress. I watch her face, studying every expression. The way her eyes flutter closed when I find that sensitive spot below her ear. How her breath catches when my mouth moves lower.
"God, I missed you."
The words slip out before I can stop them. Raw. Honest in ways I don't usually allow myself.
Her eyes open, meeting mine, kissing me like she's trying to pull six years from deep inside. I give it willingly. All of it. Everything I've been holding back.
When she comes apart beneath me, her whole body trembling, I follow her over that edge. The release crashes through me, emptying every careful defense I've built.
I collapse against her, breathing hard. She holds me close, fingers tangled in my hair.
Neither of us speaks for several minutes.
My breathing slows first, the roar in my ears settling back to silence. The weight of my body presses into hers, and I realize I need to move before I crush her.
But I don't want to.
Stay.
The impulse hits stronger than expected. Not just physical comfort. Deeper. The urge to remain connected, to hold this space we've carved out together.
I shift my weight but don't pull away. Instead, I roll slightly, bringing her with me so we're lying on our sides, facing each other. My arm stays around her waist. Her leg remains hooked over mine.
Her breathing evens out, and I watch the rise and fall of her breathing in the dim light. Her hair fans across the pillow, messy from my hands. There's a flush across her collarbone that I want to trace with my fingertips.
So I do.
She shivers slightly at the gentle touch. Not from cold. From the shift from urgent to careful.
"Can I stay here with you tonight?"
The question comes out quieter than I intended. Not a demand. Not an assumption. A request that acknowledges where we are and what's real.
She's quiet for a moment, and I can see her thinking. Processing.
"For a while. But you can't stay in here the whole night."
Her voice is steady, matter-of-fact. There's no apology in it, no softening of the boundary.
"I can't let Benjy come in here and find us like this."
I nod before she even finishes speaking. Of course Benjy comes first. That's not negotiable, and I wouldn't want it any other way.
That's what makes her a good mother.
"I can set an alarm on my phone. Would that be okay? Three a.m.?"
She considers this, then nods. "Yes. I would like that."
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, fingers moving quietly across the screen. The soft glow illuminates her face for a second before I set it aside.
I'll stay awake. Don't want to waste any of it sleeping. But just in case, I have the alarm.
I settle back beside her, pulling the sheet up over both of us. She moves closer, not hesitating. Her head finds the hollow of my shoulder, and I rest my hand on the curve of her waist.
This is what I wanted. Not just the release or the physical connection. This quiet afterward. The way she fits against me like no time has passed.
Her breathing deepens slightly. She’s not quite asleep, but she’s close. I keep mine steady, not wanting to disturb whatever peace she's settling into.
This makes two nights with her falling asleep in my arms.
My fingers trace slow patterns on her bare shoulder. Light touches that say what I can't put into words yet. That this matters. That something has shifted between us that can't be undone.
The room wraps around us, while outside, the night continues. Time moves differently, compressed into these stolen hours where nothing exists except her warmth against my side and the steady rhythm of her breathing.
I watch the shadows on the ceiling, hyperaware of every point where our bodies connect. The weight of her leg across mine. How her hair tickles my collarbone. The way she unconsciously tightens her grip when I shift even slightly.
Whatever comes next, whatever we have to figure out, this moment exists.
I close my eyes and memorize it.