Chapter 33
thirty-three
Caroline
Just as I laid my head down after what felt like a never ending day, there was a knock at my door. My parents had got the bridal suite for Charlotte, themselves a room, and Cooper and I separate rooms. Which meant it was probably a devastated Charlotte at the door.
With a reluctant sigh, I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
After shuffling forward, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
My arm was sore from being on auto-pilot all day as Charlotte’s lip gloss assistant.
My hair was twisted into a messy bun, a loose shirt was hanging off one shoulder, and the absence of a bra was unmistakable.
"Let me guess," I exhaled, "more lip gloss? "
"Not unless it's coming straight from your lips," Reese said back to me. I took him in. His button-up shirt had the top buttons undone. His tie was gone, and his hair was tousled like he'd been raking his fingers through it all night.
"I thought you went home?"
Something happened. I could see it in the way he was standing. In the tension in his jaw. Whatever it was, he seemed upset. And he’d come to me. Not just anywhere—to me. That thought alone made my chest full and my throat tight with an emotion I had never quite felt before.
"I did," he said. His gaze avoided mine, but I noticed how the muscles along his jaw clenched. "And I shouldn't have. Can't be around my dad tonight. Can I come in?"
The sight of him like this surprised me.
It was raw and unguarded in a way that made my stomach flip, like some part of him had unraveled, and I was the place he’d sought to put himself back together.
I was worried, but no matter how shaken he was or what happened with his dad, he’d still come to me.
And all I wanted was to make him feel as safe as he always made me feel.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my hand pushing the door open wider, inviting him in.
He stepped into the room, and the door fell shut behind him. My fingers brushed his arm as he walked past me, and it felt like a jolt of electricity, a way to show him that I was there, that whatever this was—whatever we were—I cared about him.
"I am now," Reese murmured, making his way through the room as he claimed the chair beside my bed, settling into it. He relaxed back, muscles easing beneath the fabric of his crumpled shirt.
I dropped onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as I studied Reese. "What happened?"
"I'm just ready to figure out where I'm going," he said, with a bone-deep tiredness in his voice. "Which team I'm on." His hands—those large pitcher's hands—clenched into fists, then relaxed again. "It's long overdue that I get some space from my dad."
My fingers traced the pattern of the comforter beneath me, my hands always needing to fidget with something.
"Was he upset that you were with me?" The question slipped out, but I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to hear his answer.
The chair creaked as Reese leaned forward, elbows planting themselves on his knees. "I think he's just unhappy with me," he said, shaking his head. "Upset that I'm challenging him on his opinions about my mom."
"I'm sorry he's putting you through that," I whispered. "I wish parents always put us first, put what was best for us first."
"Me too," he said, rising from his seat. I watched, captivated, as his fingers danced over the buttons of his dress shirt, each one coming undone with deliberate slowness. The fabric parted, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and those abs I would recognize anywhere.
"Oh," I teased, "do I get a show?"
“Anytime you want," he said with a half-smile. Reese threw his shirt over the chair before his pants made their way down his legs. He folded them, then threw them on the chair next to his shirt.
"I’ll have to remember that," I said, grinning.
"Scoot over, Chaos," he said. His words were soft, but still held that effortless authority that clung to him like it was built in.
He slid onto the bed, claiming more space.
My heart picked up speed as I shifted closer, leaving him no choice but to put his arm around me.
The sheets tangled around our legs as I brushed my lips against his shoulder and whispered, “I’m usually the one running to you when I'm upset, but I like it when the roles are reversed.”
His exhale was almost a chuckle, warm and teasing. “Oh, do you now?” he drawled, his words gradually turning darker. My stomach tightened at the sound. “What else do you like?”
My fingers trailed up his arm, feeling the heat of his skin beneath them. His muscles tensed as I moved to his chest, my palm flat against the hard ripples, feeling the goosebumps rise.
His hand caught mine, pinning it to his chest for a moment. “Roll over,” he growled, and my thighs clenched involuntarily.
I did as he said, turning, the sheets sliding against my skin as I pressed my ass against him. He was gripping my hips in an instant, his hard length already pressing into the curve of my back.
“You’re everything I never knew I needed,” he said, his lips at my ear, voice rough with emotion. “You’re mine.”
I felt him shift, his hips grinding against me, his length rocking against my ass. I gasped, arching into him, and he let out a low, satisfied groan. He pulled me back against him, his cock sliding between my thighs, so close but not yet where I wanted him.
One of his large hands stayed gripping my waist, and he used the other to spread my legs, reaching into my center until his fingers found my clit.
He started rubbing tight circles that sent sparks shooting through me.
His fingers trailed to my dripping slit, the slickness of my arousal coating his fingertips as he inserted one finger, and then another.
I gasped, biting down on my lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his breath hot against the back of my neck.
His fingers inched deeper, plunging inside me with a precision that made me arch into his touch.
I wanted more, I wanted him, so I reached behind me, trailing my fingertips over his shaft.
“You want it,” he murmured, as if he was reading my mind. “Then say it.”
I did, the word slipping from my lips in a breathless moan. “Please.”
He took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers, holding me in place as he positioned himself at my entrance.
“I’m so fucking addicted to this tight pussy,” he said, his voice raw as he pushed inside, stretching me, and making me clench around his cock.
“Jesus Christ, I can’t get enough,” he hissed, his hips moving in a slow, torturous rhythm, filling me completely.
“You feel so good,” I cried out, my nails digging into the sheets. I was trembling, every nerve in my body buzzing with the sensation of him—thick, hard, and unrelenting—rolling his hips into me with a deep, delicious rhythm.
My heart was pounding so hard I swear he could feel it.
My entire body was tingling from the pure intensity of it all.
This felt different. He was claiming me, holding me in a way I’d never felt before—tender, sensual, all-consuming.
There was an overwhelming shift between us.
A rush of emotions were crashing over me, drowning me in sensations I wasn’t sure if I could ever recover from.
For the first time, I felt cherished, desired. Seen.
“God, yes,” I moaned into my pillow, as his hand on my hip tightened.
His fingers dug into my skin as he pulled me back against him, our bodies moving in sync.
His other hand released mine, reaching around to rub my clit, the dual sensations of him inside me and his fingers moving bringing me to the edge.
His lips were on my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “You’re so perfect, baby. You take me so fucking well.”
He pulled out almost completely before he slammed back into me, picking up speed. His muscles tensed and released with every thrust. I was losing myself in the pleasure that was building with every movement of his hips.
“I’m about to—” I couldn’t get the words out, though. I came with a cry, my body shaking as the pleasure tore through me.
“Me, too,” he breathed out, following me over the edge, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside me, his low groan muffling against my skin.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us trembling and breathless. Then he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him until I was sprawled across his chest. His heartbeat was still racing, his skin still hot and damp with sweat.
He pressed a soft kiss to my temple, and a shiver ran through me. “Mine,” he whispered. And I didn’t argue—because he was right. I was completely his.
I kept my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat begin to steady. It was the most calming sound I’d ever heard.
"What’s going to happen with us when you move away?" I let the question slip from my mouth, unable to hold back the thought that was consuming my mind.
His fingers traced my scalp with a gentle pressure that massaged away the knots of tension. The motion was hypnotic, lulling me into a state where only his touch and the shared warmth beneath the sheets existed.
"Nothing," he finally breathed, his voice barely more than a vibration against my ear.
I looked back just enough to eye him. "Nothing?" I scoffed. "You said that like it just explained everything."
His eyes—those eyes of his—still entrancing, even in the darkness, held mine.
Reese's hands resumed their gentle movement through my hair.
"If you think I'm just letting you go, then you're wrong," he said.
"I might be busy, but I'll come see you anytime I can, and hopefully, you'll come see me when you can too. "
I laughed in disbelief. "You're acting like you could be moving down the street—what if it’s somewhere across the country?
" How could he be so nonchalant about this?
I was just now letting him in—I had started to really like him.
More than like, maybe. And even though I knew amazing things were coming for him, I couldn't help but wish for a pause button—a way to freeze time in this moment, before the inevitable drift began.
"Then we'll figure it out," he said, simply. I knew he was trying not to be too harsh about the reality of the situation. Maybe he wasn’t ready to accept the truth, but even if we did try to stay in touch, see each other when we could, we’d inevitably drift apart.
"You just have no stress in the world, do you?" I said, the words airy but edged. "I always have stress and worries, and anxiety. But you, nothing."
He chuckled, not needing to say anything else, apparently.
I knew he understood why I was worried, even as he laid there, the epitome of calm in the face of our uncertain future.
It was one of the things that drew me to him, this fact that he could somehow stand tall in any scary situation and not be moved.
Yet here I was, perpetually on the edge, about to lose it, not knowing how he and I could possibly continue on this path together.
The warmth of his arms circled around me, drawing me further into the solid comfort of his chest. "Because that sounds like chaos to me."