7. Everly
Everly
Reid’s apartment on the third floor had the same layout as mine.
He was tidy—no empty bottles sitting around, no dishes in the sink, no dust on his dark furniture.
It smelled like well-brewed coffee and him.
He had this delicious, spicy scent that I wasn’t wholly sure was all cologne.
It was earthy, with hints of cinnamon, amber, and vanilla.
I’d never considered vanilla an earthy smell before, or even remotely masculine, but combined with the cinnamon and amber, it was a savory decadence. One I wanted to binge on.
“Would you like a beer, sweetness? Or I’ve got whiskey and tequila.”
I hesitated. Being around him was already dangerous enough. Adding alcohol to the equation wouldn’t help me keep my clothes on, that was for damn sure.
As if he could read my mind, he opened the fridge and extracted a familiar can of soda. “I’ve got plenty of Diet Coke as well. I keep it stocked for when my mom drops in unexpectedly.”
Taking the offered can, I popped the top and took a fortifying drink. He’d just given me my drug of choice, and I needed something to do besides standing around, pretending this wasn’t my first time being alone in a guy’s apartment.
Even though it was.
It wasn’t as if I’d had time for relationships or hookups or anything else that came with being alone in someone else’s home. For most of my life, I’d been too focused on how to get Evie away from her dad to care much about boys.
I should have gone to my place when we got back, told him goodnight, and put temptation far, far away.
That would have been the smart thing to do.
Instead, I’d almost melted into Reid when he’d clasped my hand and led me upstairs.
I wasn’t ready to say goodnight or leave him or give up that sensation of being safe.
If I could have seen myself right then, I wouldn’t have doubted I’d have had heart-eyes as big as Evie did when she looked at her bloodhound. I wanted to be here, in Reid’s space, breathing his air, for as long as possible.
Grabbing a beer for himself, he popped the top before taking my hand again, leading me to his comfortable couch.
I was mildly surprised it wasn’t one of those leather recliner things that had the cupholders and mini fridge between each section.
It wasn’t flashy and didn’t smell like expensive, dried leather hide.
He made sure I was comfortable in one corner before sinking his big body down into the cushions. I was momentarily disappointed he didn’t sit closer until he pulled my legs onto his lap. Still holding his beer in one hand, he used the other to slip my shoes off.
Thick, strong fingers skimmed down my calf, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. Gentle, intimate touches that made my heart race and my core heat. Clutching at my can of Diet Coke, I held my breath, wondering—hoping—he would trail his fingers upward.
Gripping my heel, he squeezed. My moan was unrestrained and loud. I snapped my mouth shut, feeling my cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.
Reid dipped his head toward me, still massaging my foot, working his way from heel to toe. “I love that sound, sweetness. Don’t lock it away. If I make you feel good, you gotta let me hear it.”
His eyes had changed, the lighter blue lines standing out, reminding me of streaks of lightning during a storm.
One side of his mouth ticked up in a smirk.
Damn it, no man should ever be as sexy as Reid Barker—with his dark hair longer on top and trimmed to a few millimeters on the sides, his thick scruff that was neatly groomed but not to the point that he was vain about it, and all those muscles beneath his clothes.
When I’d first seen him in the leather cut, I hadn’t even been surprised.
Not when the MC was so dominant in the small town.
I’d paid attention, not just to the men who rode around on their motorcycles, wearing their club patches, but to how the residents of the town reacted when they saw them.
So far, every MC brother was pure masculinity, those who knew they held power over people but didn’t exploit or abuse it.
And the civilians around them treated them with respect that didn’t feel grudging.
From our all-too-brief introduction the day before, I’d known Reid was a hardworking man, based on the dirt on his boots alone.
Apparently, dried mud and dust on a pair of broken-in shoes did it for me.
I’d taken one look at him, sweat still darkening his shirt, his face tired but no less handsome, his boots covered in grime, and for the first time, I took real notice of the opposite sex.
Tonight, seeing him cleaned up in his cut, and those same boots, I’d been even more affected. Sexy, hardworking, and in a position of power. That was fucking hot.
Reid dug his thumb into my arch with the perfect amount of pressure. Whimpering, I dropped my head back onto the couch. Those light-blue lines began to glow in his eyes, taking my breath away.
“Right there?” he asked softly, his thumb pressing harder. I hummed. It felt too good for words.
He placed his bottle on the coffee table so he could use both hands.
“Oh my god!” I cried, sinking deeper into the couch. “Please, please don’t stop.”
He frowned down at my shoes but didn’t pause. “Did you wear heels to work, sweetness?”
“What…?” His question didn’t make sense. “You have magic in your hands.”
“Glad you think so, beautiful girl, but you didn’t answer me. Did you wear heels to work?”
“No, I wore flats.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, shifting his pressure from my arch to the ball of my foot.
“Ah, yes! That’s so good.”
“You like this, huh?” He wore a smile, but he didn’t seem cocky about his skills.
“Love it,” I corrected.
“I’m glad. This is my first time giving a foot rub.
Always saw my dad doing this for my mom.
She still wears heels to work more often than not.
She runs the company, a little badass in a skirt and four-inch pumps.
He grumbles at her for torturing her feet all day long, but he still massages her feet almost every night.
” He moved from one toe to the next, adjusting his pressure every time I made a noise.
“You adore her,” I mused. His tone had changed when he talked about his mother, gotten softer, tender. Hearing the respect in his voice made me want to meet her that much more, yet the thought of her not liking me was terrifying.
Reid shrugged. “She’s my mom. Of course I do.”
I sipped my drink, wondering if that was how most people thought when it came to their moms, or parents in general. “Not everyone has the same relationship with their mom.”
“You and your sister don’t get along with your parents?”
Thinking of my own mother now weighed me down more than it had in a long time. I missed her, but at the same time, a piece of me was glad she was gone. She wasn’t the best person. Proof of that was in how she’d married William, even though she’d known he was a monster.
“My mom died when I was seventeen,” I explained.
It was the easiest answer when most people brought up my mother.
“I never lived with Evie’s dad. He… He might have provided half my DNA, but he was never my father.
Our parents divorced when Mom was still pregnant with us.
They split everything, including us. Once we were born, each of them got one twin. ”
That was the most I’d spoken about our parents in a long time.
I hadn’t meant to unload all that on him.
Not all at once, maybe not ever, but once I opened my mouth, it all came tumbling out.
I couldn’t stop it, and with Reid looking at me, his hands still massaging my feet, I felt some of that weight lift from me.
“You didn’t get to grow up with your sister?” he asked.
“We only got one day a year together until we were eighteen. Then…” My throat tightened, the memory of the loss choking me. Blinking against the sudden assault of tears, I lifted a shoulder, trying to shrug it off. “Thankfully, we reconnected recently, when… When Evie’s dad…died.”
“I’m sorry, sweetness. That must have been rough.” He gave my foot a gentle squeeze that made my throat tighten more.
Christ, could this man get sexier?
How was he not already taken?
Jealousy spiked through me. I was sure plenty of women had tried to make him their own. Of course they fucking had. Just looking at him would make any woman salivate. Here was a hot, mature man, who was not only employed, but good to his mother.
That was the prototype for the perfect male, in my opinion.
And here he was, rubbing my feet, being kind to me in a way that made me want to curl up in his lap and cry. Not just because I was sad, but because I was tired.
So, so tired.
“Yeah, it was hard.” I cleared my throat, hoping to ease the lump that was choking me. “Evie is everything to me.”
“Mila calls Monroe the other half of her soul. Is that how it is for you two, even though you didn’t grow up together?”
“That’s one way of describing it.” I was convinced Evie and I had twin telepathy. At least, that was how it seemed to me. I’d had no reason to think she was fading away, but I’d sensed it. That was why I’d gotten desperate, why I’d gone searching for illegal ways to get my sister back.
While my anxiety had been ratcheting up with the ticking of each passing hour, Evie had been slipping deeper into the darkest parts of a mental health crisis. By the time I’d been able to wrap my arms around her, Evie had been minutes away from ending her life.
“Being forced to spend twenty-one years without Evie nearly ruined my soul. Instead of losing it completely, I sold a piece of it to get her back. I would do it over and over if that’s what it takes to keep her with me.”
Fear should have been flooding off me or even unease. I hadn’t confessed to what I’d done, but it felt like I had, given how the guilt I’d been living with evaporated when he gave an understanding nod.