chapter THIRTY-FIVE
Gray
T he drive from my parents' estate to campus is an hour on a good day. Tonight, with Reese beside me smelling like honey and sunshine and sex, it might as well be a thousand miles.
I pull away from the house, hands gripping the wheel with unnecessary force as I try to focus on the winding mountain road. Beside me, Reese shifts in her seat, her breathing already labored despite our encounter in the powder room.
"How bad?" I ask, glancing at her.
"Bad," she admits. "Worse than before."
"Can you hang on until we get back to campus?"
She laughs, the sound tight with strain. "Do I have a choice?"
"Always," I say, more seriously than I intended. "There's always a choice, Reese."
She turns to look at me, expression softening despite the fever-bright eyes. "I know. And I'm here, aren't I?"
The simple statement sends a rush of satisfaction through me that's more potent than it should be. I reach over, taking her hand in mine, our fingers interlacing naturally.
"We'll be there soon," I promise.
She nods, then glances at the speedometer. "You know, we'd get there faster if you didn't drive like my grandmother."
I shoot her an incredulous look. "I'm doing seventy in a fifty-five zone."
"My point exactly." Her free hand lands on my thigh, high enough to make my breath catch. "Gray Lockwood, always in control, always following the rules."
"Someone has to," I manage, hyperaware of her fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of my pants.
"And what happens when you don't?" Her hand inches higher. "When you let go of all that perfect control?"
I swallow hard, forcing my eyes to stay on the road. "You might not want to find out."
"But what if I do?" Her voice drops lower, husky with heat and something darker. "What if that's exactly what I want?"
Her hand reaches its destination, palm pressing firmly against the length of me, already hard and straining against my zipper. A groan escapes me before I can stop it.
"Reese," I warn, the name half-plea, half-command.
"Gray," she mimics, squeezing lightly through my pants.
With anyone else, I might suspect alcohol or hormones driving reckless behavior. But even in the throes of heat, there's something deliberate about Reese's actions. A calculated challenge.
"We still have quite a way to go before we make it back to campus," I point out, even as she works my zipper down with deft fingers.
"Then I better take my time."
Before I can respond, she's unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning across the center console. My protest dies in my throat as she pulls my cock from my boxer briefs, her touch sending electricity arcing through my system.
"Keep your eyes on the road, Captain," she murmurs. Then her mouth is on me, hot and wet and perfect.
"Fuck," I bite out, hands clenching on the wheel as her tongue traces from base to tip.
The dual challenge of driving safely while Reese Callahan gives me head is the hardest test of control I've ever faced. Her mouth works me with the same devastating focus she brings to everything, finding a rhythm that has me fighting not to close my eyes in pleasure.
I manage to drop one hand from the wheel, tangling my fingers in her hair. Not guiding, just connecting, needing to touch her as she unravels me stroke by stroke.
"You're playing with fire," I warn, voice rough.
She pulls back just long enough to say, "Maybe I want to burn," before taking me deeper than before.
Fuck. The visual alone would be enough to push lesser men over the edge. Reese with her lips stretched around me, blue-green eyes glancing up, watching my reaction through those long lashes. But I've spent years honing my control, and I'll be damned if I come apart this easily.
Two can play this game.
I slide my free hand up the back of her thigh, pushing her dress higher until I can slip beneath the fabric. She's still wearing the underwear I pulled aside in my parents' bathroom, the delicate material now completely soaked through.
She moans around me as my fingers find their target, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure up my spine.
I push the fabric aside, finding her slick and swollen and desperate for touch.
She shifts in the seat so that her hips are angled towards me, opening her legs to give me better access. Thank god for tinted windows.
"Still with me?" I ask, circling my fingers around her pussy without pushing inside.
Her answer is to take me deeper, swallowing around me in a way that makes the car swerve slightly before I correct course.
"I'll take that as a yes."
I slide two fingers into her, feeling her body clench around them immediately.
She's so close already, her heat making her hypersensitive to every touch.
It would be easy to push her over the edge right now, but something in me wants to draw this out, to make her work for it the way she's making me work.
So I establish a rhythm counter to hers—slowing my fingers when she speeds up her mouth, pushing deeper when she teases with just her tongue. It becomes a silent battle of wills, each of us trying to make the other lose control first.
The road ahead blurs slightly as pleasure coils tighter in my core. I force myself to focus, adding a third finger and curling them to hit the spot that made her fall apart in the bathroom. Her hips buck against my hand, her mouth faltering in its steady rhythm.
Victory, so close I can taste it.
"Fuck, Reese," I groan. "I don't want to think about how you got so fucking good at this.
" My brain is buzzing with the thoughts of her mouth on me, my fingers in her, the memory of her taste.
"Your pussy is so soft and warm...I can't wait to bury my cock so deep in you, you taste me on your tongue. "
She shivers hard and then her whole body tenses, her mouth still wrapped around me as she comes apart against my hand. The sight of her, eyes closed, face flushed with pleasure, taking me as deep as she can while her body convulses, is the most erotic goddamn thing I've ever seen.
It's too much. I come with stunning intensity, white-hot pleasure coursing through me. To her credit, Reese doesn't pull away, swallowing everything I give her before finally releasing me with a satisfied smile.
For several minutes, neither of us speaks. The only sounds are our ragged breathing and the hum of the engine as we continue toward campus. Somehow, miraculously, we've remained on the road and within our lane.
Reese sits up, straightening her dress with one hand while the other wipes delicately at the corner of her mouth. In the glow of the dashboard lights, she looks like sin incarnate. Her hair mussed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed with lingering pleasure.
"You're staring," she points out, voice husky from what she's just done.
"Can you blame me?" I tuck myself away, adjusting my clothes one-handed while keeping my eyes on the road.
A small, genuine laugh escapes her. "I suppose not."
I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before releasing it. "I can't wait to ruin you."
"Promises, promises," she purrs, but there's a new edge in her voice. The temporary relief already fading as her heat surges again. "Gray, I need—"
"I know." I press harder on the accelerator, the campus entrance now visible ahead. "Almost there."
The remainder of the drive passes in tense silence, both of us vibrating with unfiltered need. By the time I pull into the parking lot behind the team house, Reese is practically squirming in her seat, her scent filling the car with honey and sunshine and desperate want.
I kill the engine and round the car to open her door, offering my hand to help her out. She takes it, legs unsteady as she stands, and immediately presses against me.
"I need you," she breathes against my neck, hands already working at my shirt buttons.
"Not here," I manage, even as she nips my earlobe with her teeth.
But instead of listening, she pulls me down into a kiss that obliterates every rational thought. Her tongue slides against mine, still carrying the taste of me, and I'm lost. My hands tangle in her hair as I press her back against the car, grinding against her through our clothes.
"Upstairs," she gasps between kisses, but makes no move to separate from me.
"Yeah," I agree, but instead of heading for the door, I trail my mouth down her throat, finding the spot that made her arch in the bathroom.
Somehow we manage to stumble toward the back entrance, still kissing, hands roaming frantically over each other's bodies. I fumble for my keys with one hand while the other grips her hip, holding her against me while she grinds her hips against my thigh.
The door swings open and we practically fall inside, too caught up in each other to care about stealth or discretion. Her back hits the wall in the hallway and I’m immediately on her, one hand sliding up her thigh to push her dress higher.
"God, I want you," I growl against her mouth.
"Then take me," she challenges, nipping at my bottom lip.
I'm reaching for the hem of her dress when a throat clears loudly from the direction of the common room.
"Well, well, well." Beckett's amused voice cuts through our haze like a bucket of ice water. "Look what the cat dragged in."
Reese freezes against me, but I don't step back. Let him see. Let them all know she's mine, at least for tonight.
"Monroe," I acknowledge, not bothering to move away from her.
"Captain. Cox." The grin is audible in his voice as he takes in our disheveled appearance. "Good dinner with the family?"
"Outstanding," I reply, finally glancing over at him. He's sprawled on the couch with a book, clearly having waited up for our return, though whether out of concern or curiosity is anyone's guess.
"Glad to hear it." His eyes flick between us, taking in Reese's flushed cheeks and swollen lips, my rumpled shirt and the obvious evidence of what we've been doing. "Your room's all set up, by the way. Team effort."
I blink, momentarily thrown. "What?"
"Extra water bottles by the bed. Clean sheets. Protein bars in the nightstand." He shrugs like it's nothing, but there's genuine warmth in his expression. "Bo's idea. We figured you two would be... hungry... when you got back."
A rush of unexpected emotion tightens my throat. The genuine support from the team, from men who should be rivals in this situation, is something I didn't expect and am not sure I deserve.
"Thanks," I manage, the word inadequate for what I'm feeling.
Beckett waves dismissively. "Just doing our part, Captain. Now get our cox taken care of before she catches fire."
He returns to his book with exaggerated nonchalance, effectively dismissing us. I don't need to be told twice.
Without breaking eye contact with Reese, I sweep her into my arms, carrying her toward the stairs. Her surprised laugh echoes in the stairwell, but she doesn't protest, just wraps her arms around my neck and presses her face against my throat.
"I can walk," she murmurs against my skin.
"Faster this way," I reply, taking the steps two at a time despite her weight. She's light, her small frame fitting perfectly against my chest, but the effort still leaves me slightly breathless by the time we reach my door.
Or maybe that's just the anticipation of what comes next.
I set her down gently so I can unlock the door, but the moment it swings open, she's pulling me inside, her mouth finding mine again with desperate hunger.
The kiss is nothing like the controlled encounters from earlier. This is raw need, pure animal want barely contained within human form. I kick the door shut behind us, hearing the lock engage as I crowd her against the wall.
"Gray," she gasps when we break for air. "I need—"
"I know exactly what you need," I tell her, already working the zipper of her dress down. "And I'm going to give it to you. All night if necessary."
The dress pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but the ruined underwear and a strapless bra that does little to contain the perfect curve of her breasts. I take a moment just to look at her, to burn this image into my memory.
Reese Callahan, our fierce, competent coxswain, standing in my room looking at me like I'm the answer to every question she's ever asked.
"Your turn," she says, reaching for the buttons of my shirt with trembling fingers.
I let her undress me, savoring the way her eyes darken as each new expanse of skin is revealed. When I'm down to just boxer briefs, she places her palm flat against my chest, right over my thundering heart.
"I want you," she says, simple and direct. "Not just because of heat. Not just because of biology. I've wanted you since that first day when you looked at me like I was the most annoying thing you'd ever seen."
The confession ignites something possessive and fierce inside me. I lift her, hands supporting her ass, and carry her to my bed. She goes willingly, arms twining around my neck as I lower her onto the mattress.
"You were annoying," I admit, following her down until I'm braced above her. "Challenging everything, questioning my authority, making me work for every ounce of respect."
"And now?" she asks, something vulnerable flickering in her gaze despite the heat fever burning through her.
I trace the curve of her cheek with one finger, allowing myself the tenderness I usually keep carefully tucked away. "Now you're essential. To the team. To me."
Her breath catches. "Gray—"
Whatever she was about to say is lost as I take her mouth with mine again, pouring everything I can't articulate into the kiss.
The desire that's been building since she joined the team.
The admiration for her skill and courage.
The need that has nothing to do with designation biology and everything to do with the woman beneath me.
Tonight, I'll give her what she needs to get through her heat. I'll satisfy the biological imperative driving both of us toward insanity. But I'll also show her exactly what happens when Gray Lockwood stops following the rules and finally, completely, lets go of control.
Because Reese Callahan deserves nothing less than everything I have to give.