Chapter 39 Reeves
THIRTY-NINE
Reeves
Going Home: In a jazz funeral, going home is not an ending. It is what the whole procession has been moving toward.
Her legs shift against my sides.
I'm here.
My hands slide up her thighs, thumbs tracing the hem of her dress. She doesn't pull away. Her pupils dilate slightly.
"Reeves."
The way she says my name is soft, her breath catching at the end. Her hands don’t push me away.
I push the fabric higher, my palms flat against her skin. Warm and soft and exactly like I remember. Her breath catches when my thumbs brush the edge of her underwear.
"Let me."
Her hands move to my shoulders, gripping the fabric of my shirt. I lean closer, pressing my mouth to the inside of her knee. She tastes like salt and her citrus lotion.
I work my way up slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin. Her fingers tighten in my shirt when I reach the sensitive spot just above her knee that always made her arch against me.
Her underwear is simple white cotton, nothing fancy. I hook my fingers in the waistband and look up at her face. Her eyes are closed, head tilted back against the couch.
"Look at me, Charli."
She opens her eyes. They're dark now, pupils blown wide.
"Can I taste you?"
Instead of answering, she lifts her hips. I slide the cotton down her legs and drop it on the floor beside us.
Her palm presses against my shoulder, fingers trembling slightly. Her breath comes in short, uneven bursts.
"Benjy's down the hall," she says as she cradles my face in her hands.
The words hit me like cold water, but not because I don't want this. Because I want it too much to think straight.
I move up her body, my face stopping inches from hers. Her warm breath rinses over me.
She shifts beneath me, and I have to close my eyes to keep from losing what little control I have left.
"We can't. Not here. Let's go to the bedroom."
She's right. Her hands are still on my shoulders, not pushing me away. Just holding on.
"Let me finish what I started, in the bedroom. I want to taste you."
She nods once, barely a movement.
I stand first, extending my hand to help her up. She takes it without hesitation, and when she's on her feet, I don't let go. Her dress is wrinkled, twisted from where my hands grabbed the fabric. She smooths it down with her free hand.
We move through the house quietly. No rushing. No fumbling in the dark. Just purposeful steps down the hallway, past the closed door where Benjy sleeps, toward her bedroom at the end of the hall.
My heartbeat thrums in my ears. I can smell her shampoo, the citrus that makes me think of mornings and coffee and the life she built without me.
The life I walked away from.
At the bedroom door, she pauses. Then, she steps inside.
I follow, closing the door behind us. The soft click of the lock turning feels louder than it should in the quiet room.
She turns to face me, and I stop a few feet away, taking her in instead of closing the distance right away.
I watch her stand in the silver light, the hem of her dress brushing her thighs, and I have to steady my hands to keep from reaching for her.
"Sit on the bed."
My voice stays steady, even with my pulse climbing. She moves without hesitation, perching on the edge of the mattress.
I drop to my knees in front of her, hands resting on her thighs. The fan hums overhead, moving air across our skin. Goosebumps rise along her legs where my palms touch.
"I've wanted to taste you again for so long."
Her breath catches, and I look up to find her watching me with those hazel eyes that see too much.
"Every deployment. Every mission. You were the only thing I kept coming back to."
I lean forward and press my mouth to the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. Her skin is warm under my mouth, clean and familiar, and I close my eyes for a second before moving higher.
"Oh, God. I've missed you, Reeves."
The way she says my name makes my dick twitch. It’s not desperate now. Her voice is soft, longing, like she's remembering too.
I move up slowly, taking my time, my mouth dragging over her skin before I go higher. I push her dress up around her waist and run my hands across her dewy skin.
"You're wet for me."
She nods, her hips rising to my face. Goddamn. I lick the top of her swollen clit, and my mouth waters.
I sit back on my heels and take her in. I marvel at the curve of her stomach, the way her thighs part slightly, the shine of her between them. My mouth waters.
"You're perfect."
The words come out rough, honest. She flushes pink from her chest to her cheeks.
"You remember how to make me hot for you."
She knows I remember everything. I remember how she likes to be touched, where to put my mouth, how to make her come apart beneath my hands.
I lean forward and breathe her in. My hands frame her hips, thumbs stroking the soft skin just below her hipbones.
"God, I've missed how you smell."
Her fingers tangle in my hair when I press my mouth to her. Soft at first, just tasting. The sound she makes tightens everything low in my body.
"You taste even better than I remembered."
I work her slowly, deliberately. My tongue finds every spot that makes her gasp. Her thighs tremble against my shoulders, and I have to hold her steady as she starts to move against my mouth.
"That's it. Let me take care of you."
Two fingers slide inside her easily, and she arches off the bed with a sound that goes straight to my cock. I curve them just right, finding that spot that makes her grip my hair harder.
"Oh God, Reeves. Just like that."
Her voice breaks on the last word, and I know she's close. I keep the same rhythm, the same pressure, until she's shaking beneath me.
"Come for me, Charli."
She does. Hard and long, my name falling from her lips like a prayer. I don't stop until she's pulling me away, too sensitive to take any more.
I lick my fingers, watching her as she catches her breath. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, skin flushed and glowing in the dim light.
Mine. She's still mine.
I stand long enough to shove my pants down, kicking them aside. When I move over her, she stops me with a finger on my lips.
"I want to be on top."
The words hit me like lightning. She's telling me what she wants.
"Whatever you want. I just want to be inside of you."
I roll onto my back, bringing her with me. She straddles my hips, and I have to close my eyes for a second when she presses against me.
"I want to go slow."
Her hand wraps around my cock, stroking me first. She runs her thumb over the tip and spreads it over my head.
"Fuck, Charli. You better stop doing that if you want me inside of you."
She positions me at her entrance, the tip barely seated in her hot pussy. She doesn't take me inside yet, teasing me, holding me there while she rocks slightly. The head slides through her wetness and I bite my bottom lip, fighting to hold on.
"Christ, Charli."
My hands find her hips, gripping maybe too tightly. She's teasing me, and we both know it. The tip of my cock catches against her clit, and she gasps softly.
"You're going to kill me."
She smiles at that. The first real smile I've seen from her in days. Playful and wicked and completely devastating.
"Good things are worth waiting for."
She keeps moving, sliding me from her clit to her entrance and back again. I can feel how wet she is, how ready. My jaw clenches.
"Please," I beg.
The word comes out strangled. I don't care. I'm past pride now.
Finally, finally, she positions me right where I need to be and starts to sink down. Slowly. So fucking slow that I bite down hard enough to taste iron.
"Oh, yes. Just like that."
Her voice is breathless. She takes me inch by inch until she's fully seated, both of us breathing hard. She moans as she does, her pussy clenching my dick so hard, so good.
Home. This is what coming home is.
She starts to move, and I lose whatever control I had left. My hands grip her hips, guiding her movements. Faster. Harder.
"That's it. Take what you need."
She does. Her head falls back, hair spilling over her shoulders as she rides me. Every sound she makes, every shift of her body, sends me closer to the edge.
"I love watching you like this."
My voice is rough and strained. She looks down at me, eyes dark with want.
"I love it when you watch me, letting me lead you. Oh, my God, Reeves. Oh, yes—"
The trust in those words breaks me. It's everything we never said. Everything we were too young and stupid to understand the first time.
She moves faster now, chasing her release.
"Come with me."
It's not a request. It's a demand. And I'm helpless to do anything but obey. My release tears through me at the same moment she cries out above me, both of us shaking with the force of it.
She collapses against me, and I wrap my arms around her. Hold her tight while our breathing slows. The fan continues its steady rhythm overhead.
Neither of us moves to separate.
Her breathing slows against my neck, warm puffs of air across my collarbone. I run my hand down her back, feeling the curve of her spine under my palm. She shifts slightly, our bodies still connected, settling deeper into me.
I pull out and use my t-shirt to clean her up. I pull her back to me. My hand tightens against her.
“I can't stop thinking about what you said in the living room,” she says, her voice softer now, her cheek still pressed to my chest.
Her finger drifts lower, tracing along my ribs instead of staying at my collarbone.
“About maybe moving back here.”
I don’t move, just let my hand rest against her back, feeling her breathe.
“About trying.”
She shifts slightly, her leg tightening over mine for a second before easing again.
“If we actually do this, if you're serious, there are other options.”
She stops, watching me, like she’s waiting to see what I do with that.
"Charli, there is no if. It's how. I told you this is what I want."
“It doesn’t have to be just you figuring it out. You aren't the only one who should make sacrifices to make this work.”
My hand stills against her. She lifts her head just enough to look at me, not pulling away.
“I’ve built everything in Bay St. Louis. My practice. Benjy’s routine. My parents.”
Her thumb presses between two ribs lightly, then drags down.
“But that doesn’t mean it’s the only place it can exist.”
"Are you saying you'd consider moving?"
"Benjy's still young. New places are adventures at five, not disruptions."
She keeps tracing those patterns, absentminded but focused, as if she’s working something out she hasn’t said yet.
"I could start a new practice there and build something from scratch. I've done it once, I can do it again."
I go still under her.
"What about your parents? Your business here?"
"None of it's simple. But I’m willing to look at all the options, after you find out what options there are on your end."
She lifts her head, looking down at me, her eyes steady. "I'm saying I don't expect you to be the only one making changes, Reeves."
I shift beneath her, my hand pausing where it rests on her back.
"I haven’t told you this, but right before we met last week, I got an offer to buy my practice. He mentioned being able to work through insurance issues. It gives me an option."
Henderson’s name sits right there.
I press my thumb into her shoulder, hard enough that she shifts slightly against me.
I don’t say it.
She settles back against me again, her cheek brushing my skin.
"What do you mean?"
"I got that email this morning about the Medicaid issue. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but it’s still going to take time and money to deal with. If I sell, they have people who can handle it. And I’d have the money to start over somewhere else."
"You don’t need to rush into that."
"Maybe it's fate, Reeves. Maybe it all happened like this for a reason."
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. I press my thumb into her shoulder a little harder, then ease up.
"Just give me some time to talk to the Navy."
Her breathing slows, her weight settling heavier against me as she drifts. I slide my hand up to the back of her neck, holding her there, keeping her close.
Not looking at anything in particular, I stare up into the mostly dark room. Sleep isn’t even close.
I see Henderson across his desk again, that smile like he was the king of the fucking before he realized I knew what he was up to.
My hand tightens at the back of her neck.
She can’t sell to him.