Chapter Twenty-Seven Reese
Twenty-Seven
Reese
Christ, the feel of her—hot and wet around him—nearly shattered his control right there.
Focus. Make it good for her.
He took his time, pushing inside her. Feeling every inch as her body adjusted to him, his eyes on hers all the time.
Fuck.
She was perfect. Hot enough to melt him. Reese forced himself to still, jaw clenched, every muscle straining. Giving her time.
But then she told him to go faster.
Reese almost smiled. Almost complied. But where was the fun in that?
He kept the same pace. Slow. Deep. Watching her face.
“Reese—”
“I heard you.”
Her hips rolled, trying to speed things up. Trying to take control.
Not happening.
Reese pinned her hips to the mattress with his hands. Held her still. Then sank into her again, deep, impossibly deep…and held there.
Grace gasped. Her eyes went wide.
“See?” His voice was gravel. “My way’s better.”
“Oh God, I—” He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he pulled almost all the way out, then drove back in the same torturous pace, even deeper this time as she squirmed beneath him.
Again and again, slow, deep, taking pleasure from the way her competitive streak was warring with the pleasure.
He could see it in her face. The stubborn set of her jaw fighting against the way her body was responding, and it was making him so hard, he thought he might lose his damn mind.
“You can’t set the pace with me, Grace,” Reese whispered in her ear. “I won’t allow it.”
Grace glared at him. “We’ll see about that.” Then she deliberately clenched around him.
His control nearly shattered. “Fuck.”
Reese gritted his teeth. Forced himself slower despite every fiber in him wanting to go faster. Watched her face as he pulled almost all the way out. Paused. Then sank back in with excruciating control.
Grace made a frustrated sound. Her hips tried to move. He held her down.
She clenched around him again. Tighter this time. And moaned—low and needy—right in his ear.
His hips jerked involuntary.
Shit.
“That’s it,” Grace murmured. Her nails dragged down his back. “You want to go faster. I can feel it.”
“Maybe I want to go slow? Make you come a second time,” he whispered, thumb now circling her clit.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, biting her lip. “Not possible to come twice in a day.”
“Not been with someone like me before then.”
She opened her mouth—probably to say something sharp—but he shifted angles so his cock hit the spot he knew would make her see it all different, and the words dissolved into a gasp.
And then he saw it.
That flicker in her eyes. Not frustration. Not competition. Something deeper. Rawer. Like she was fighting something that had nothing to do with him.
Like she’d forgotten how to just let herself feel.
Reese leaned down. Put his mouth right next to her ear. “Feel it,” he whispered.
Grace went still beneath him as he continued moving slowly, friction on that spot.
“Stop thinking,” he said quietly. “Stop fighting. Just feel it.”
Her breath hitched. And something changed. Her hands, which had been gripping his shoulders with that competitive edge, softened. Slid up into his hair. Not fighting anymore. Just holding.
“I don’t—I can’t—” she started.
“I know.” He kissed her temple. “I’ve got you.”
He started moving faster, finding the rhythm that made her breath catch. That made her eyes flutter closed.
“Look at me,” Reese said.
She did. And the vulnerability in that look gutted him. He picked up the pace. Not because she asked. Because he could feel what she needed. Could feel the tension building in her body. The way she was climbing toward something she’d probably forgotten existed.
“That’s it, you’re doing real good,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”
Grace’s breathing went ragged. Her nails dug into his shoulders, not competitive now, just holding on. Like he was the only thing keeping her together.
“Reese—” His name came out broken. “I can’t—it’s too much—”
“You can.” He drove deeper. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
She shook her head. Like she’d spent so long holding everything together she didn’t know how to let go.
“Grace.” He cupped her pretty face. Made her look at him. “Let. Go,” he instructed.
And something in her broke.
Her back arched. Her mouth opened on a cry that was half sob, half moan. And she cried out his name. Not with sass or competition or control, but with raw, honest surrender.
The sound she made—desperate and surprised and overwhelmed—shattered what was left of Reese’s control.
He buried his face in her neck and let himself go, too, finally allowing himself to drive into her harder, faster, chasing his own release.
Her body clenched around him. Her hands clutched at his back.
And when he came, it hit him like a freight train, harder and deeper than he’d expected.
For a moment, they just stayed there. Connected and breathing hard, and he stared into her eyes. She looked peaceful. None of that defensive sharpness she wore like armor.
Damn it.
He liked Grace. Really liked her.
It wasn’t only about the sex, though that had been incredible. Nor was it only about the way she looked or the challenge she presented. But her.
It made him want to give her this place.
It made him want to let Grace win.
Christ. What was happening to him?
Tomorrow, the world beyond the tower would be waking up and this could go one of two ways. He could regret what just happened. Could put the walls back up. Could decide this was a mistake that couldn’t be repeated.
Or…
Maybe this time could be different.
Maybe, for once, Reese could want someone and not destroy them in the process.
Maybe Grace Sullivan was exactly the kind of impossible thing worth fighting for.