Chapter 14
Reid
Iswear to God, I never planned for this to happen.
I never expected to find a fucking dildo tucked underneath Sierra's blanket.
I came to check in on her after the panicky morning she’d had. I don’t know what set her off, but she’d been distracted and jittery at breakfast, and it had worried me.
Worried enough to question letting her come here in the first place.
I wanted to help her deal with the past. Show her she doesn’t have to bury everything forever—that peace is possible, even if it takes time.
But so far, all I’ve done is make things worse.
Maybe she’s not ready. Or maybe I handled this completely wrong, springing it on her out of nowhere.
I wasn’t honest with her from the start. Didn’t tell her who I was, even though I knew exactly who she was.
We haven’t talked about our past. I haven’t owned up to the shit I did—shit that probably helped make her the way she is now.
Closed off. Defensive. Always braced for the worst.
She had a chip on her shoulder before, sure—but not like this. Not this deep.
I did that.
I thought leaving would help her. I was wrong—it didn’t.
It made her worse.
And that guilt is what’s driving me now.
I can’t find her anywhere on the property, and I’m scared she might’ve bolted—car or no car—and tried to make her way down the mountain.
So, I check her room.
I knock. “Sierra? You in there?”
No answer. I should walk away. If she wants to talk, she would’ve answered.
Unless she can’t.
Unless something’s seriously wrong.
Sleep paralysis. Panic attack. She used to get both.
What if she’s trapped?
That was enough.
“I’m coming in,” I call, pushing the door open. “Sierra?”
Silence. No one here.
Her bag’s still here, so she can’t have gone far.
I should leave, but I don’t. Instead, I stay, keep looking around.
I rummage through her space, looking for anything that might help me understand.
It’s a violation. I know it.
I do it anyway.
And the longer I stay, the more memories hit.
Her on the bed. Curled into me after sex.
The fights—sharp, ugly—and how they always spiraled into something else.
All the times I tried to leave before I finally did leave.
God. The room already smells like her.
Roses and spice. Florals with a bite—that’s what I used to call it.
Her clothes are scattered across the dresser, spilling onto the floor.
She’s never been tidy. Never cared enough to be. Clothes rolled, crumpled, shoved wherever they land.
That same chaos runs through everything she does.
Always moving. Always rushing. Never stopping long enough to sit with anything.
And that’s the problem.
She doesn’t want to think about the past.
Everything gets pushed down, buried, drowned out—until it comes back all at once.
And it kills me that I see it so clearly… and still can’t fix it.
Only she can do that.
I just have to get her to try.
I can’t let her walk away like this.
Even if she hates me for it.
It’s the least I owe her.
I’m so wrapped up in that thought that I almost miss it—the slight rise under her blanket.
I reach over and pull it back.
And freeze.
A pink toy lies on the sheets, and there’s no mistaking what it is.
My brain blanks. Heat surges through me, fast and hard.
I pick the vibrator up, my hand tightening around it as heat slams through me.
Fuck. Did she just use this?
Is that… her on it?
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it’s useless. Images hit fast, hard, my body reacting before I can stop it.
Oh fuck.
She used this. Recently.
There’s residue on it. On the sheet. In the air—there’s still a faint trace of her.
She hasn’t cleaned it yet.
I could probably still taste her.
Don’t do it, Reid. Don’t be a fucking creep. You’re here to help her.
But I don’t move.
I’ve been starving for her since she got here. Before that, even. I haven’t touched another woman since I left her, and every time I’ve gotten myself off, it’s been her—her body, her smile, her eyes.
I tried to fight it. I lost.
I want her. Always have. Always will.
A voice in my head whispers, No one’s here. She’ll never know.
My pulse pounds low and hard. Every instinct tells me to drop it, walk away.
I don’t.
I try—talk myself down, force myself to move—but my body won’t listen.
And then I give in.
I lift it to my nose and inhale.
“Oh God.”
The sound tears out of me, heat flooding my body. I barely manage not to grab myself, even though I’m hard as hell.
But I keep breathing her in like I’ve lost my mind.
And then I go further.
I taste it.
Plastic. Faint tang.
But my mind fills in the rest—her, wrapped around me, her voice, her body—
“What the hell are you doing?”
I jerk back.
Sierra stands in the doorway.
Fuck.
My chest is heaving. I didn’t even close the door.
Of course I didn’t.
She looks furious.
She should. I’m standing here holding her toy like some kind of creep.
But beneath that—there’s something else.
Heat.
Her eyes move over me, lingering. My body. My erection.
She swallows. Licks her lips.
Jesus.
Stop. You didn’t come here for this.
“Sorry,” I manage, voice rough. “I just… I came to talk to you.”
“That’s why you’re sniffing my vibrator?”
Her tone is calm. Too calm.
She steps closer. Slow. Deliberate.
The temperature in the room spikes.
I know that look.
“Sierra…” I lift a hand to stop her. She ignores it. I step back. She follows. “Wait.”
“You said you came to talk.”
Her finger trails down my chest, catching the drawstring of my pants and tugging it loose.
“So talk.”
“I can’t—” My breath stutters as her hand slips under my shirt, sliding over my skin.
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t talk to you like this.”
I can barely think.
“Good. I don’t want to talk either.”
The back of her hand brushes me, and I jerk at the contact.
When she wraps her hand around me, my vision flashes white.
When it clears, she’s on her knees.
“Sierra,” I rasp, gripping her hair. “Stop. We can’t—”
“Yeah, I know. Client-patient relationships are banned. I’ve heard the rules.” She smiles. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not your client.”
Then she bends down, slow and deliberate. Unzips me, takes me in her mouth.
“Fuck.”
The sound rips out of me.
“I forgot how big you are,” she murmurs. “How good you taste.”
“Sierra…”
That’s all I’ve got left.
“I missed you, Reid.”
The words hit harder than anything else. Everything I’ve been holding back threatens to break loose.
But when she takes me deeper, I know I’m losing that fight too.