Chapter 4
Olivia
My pulse surges, making me feel dizzy. Reed is looking at me like he never has before—like he wants to devour me. I can barely believe this is happening.
“Would you like that?” he asks, his voice low. “A distraction?”
Without even thinking about it, I find myself nodding. “Yes,” I say weakly. “I—yes, I would.”
He leans down, his hand cupping my cheek, and kisses me.
Like all good things—like our conversation, and the evening itself, and the symphony of crickets that surrounds us—it starts slow. Then it deepens, like the dark sky above, and I feel it everywhere. I want to fall into this kiss and stay there, hiding from all of my worries.
It feels like years before we finally break apart. He stares at me, inches from my face, his thumb softly caressing my jaw.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he murmurs. “I can only be so distracting on a public patio.” There’s a glint of humor and heat in his eyes as he speaks, and I shiver—that feels like a promise that I’m eager for him to fulfill.
But at the same time, I’m certain that the absolute worst thing I could do right now is sleep with Reed Eastwood. The rational part of my brain is having a total fit at the moment, desperately trying to rein me in.
You’re going to regret it more than you’ve ever regretted anything. Your life is already such a mess right now—why add this to all of your other problems?
I really do need that distraction, though. I need to relax, for once, and just enjoy myself. The stress is going to drive me crazy if I don’t. I’m drunk, and I’m so tired of leaving things the way they are.
Plus, ever since Reed came crashing back into my life, that old childhood crush that I always tried to deny has been creeping to the surface.
Reed looks better than ever. He’s dressed to the nines, his brown eyes are deep and sensual, and he smells faintly of an earthy cologne—sandalwood, or something.
I swallow my doubts and nod.
He kisses me again, quicker this time, and takes my hand. He leads me to the edge of the patio. We slip through the bushes into the parking lot. Silently, I’m grateful that he didn’t take me back through the party. If Riley saw us leaving together, I’d never hear the end of it.
“Are you going to call a driver?” I tease. “Did your chauffeur bring you here?”
“Nope,” he replies. He approaches a cherry red sports car, reaching into his pocket. The car’s lights flash.
We climb in, and as we pull out of the parking lot, the sexual tension in the car is almost unbearable. The city slides by around us, a blur outside of the windows. All I can think about is Reed, mere feet away from me.
As he drives, his right hand drifts over to my bare thigh. His fingertips glide over my skin. I catch my breath, resisting the urge to squirm in my seat.
I give him directions to my apartment—he wants to go to my place rather than his. Something about avoiding the paparazzi. I can’t imagine having to live like that, and never even considered that, behind all of Reed’s tabloid exploits, there was a reporter who was essentially stalking him.
It almost makes me feel for him. Sure, he’s a player, but nobody deserves to be scrutinized like that.
We pull up outside of my apartment building, and Reed walks me upstairs. As we go, I become painfully aware of the stains on the floor in the hallway, the flickering light on the landing. I unlock my door, gritting my teeth in embarrassment at my little shoebox of an apartment.
“It’s not much,” I admit, opening the door. “It’s kinda small, and…” I trail off as my eyes travel all over the apartment, taking in all of its flaws. There’s a stain from water damage in the corner of the ceiling, and the TV is small, and the furniture is cramped…
Compared to the luxury Reed is used to, this place must feel like a hovel.
But he doesn’t seem to mind. He only has eyes for me, and now that we’re all alone, his focus has intensified.
“You don’t have to justify anything,” he tells me. “I promise, the only thing here I care about is you. I’m distracting you tonight, remember?”
He closes the distance between us, until he’s right in front of me, his hand making its way down my long braid. He slips the tie off, and his fingers lace through my hair as he undoes the twists. The anticipation of what’s to come makes my knees feel weak.
He leans down to kiss me, and now that we’re in private, he doesn’t hold back.
His mouth is hot and demanding, and the kiss lights me up from my scalp to my toes. My hands find his jaw, the sharp line of it under my palms. He groans into my mouth and walks me backward until my lower back hits the edge of the counter.
“Been thinking about this all night,” he mutters against my mouth.
“Really?”
“Fuck, yes. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
My stomach flips. His hand slides up my thigh, pushing my dress higher as he kisses down my neck until my head tips back to give him better access. I swallow hard, feeling my throat move under his lips. Reed Eastwood has his mouth on me in my kitchen, and instead of panicking about it… I’m melting.
His fingers slip between my legs, dragging my dress up and brushing the fabric of my panties, and a soft sound escapes my lips. He grins against my throat.
“Can’t wait to find out what other you make.”
The words seem to go directly to my clit, making it pulse as his fingers graze the little nub through my panties.
I’m desperate for more pressure there, but instead of giving it to me, he withdraws his hand.
Letting the fabric of the skirt fall, he tugs the top of my dress down, freeing my breasts, and lets out a rough sound as he takes me in.
“Jesus. You’re gorgeous.”
He cups one breast in his palm and drags his thumb over my nipple, then bends and takes it in his mouth.
His tongue swirls slowly, making goosebumps spread across my chest. When he sucks hard, I hiss out a breath, gripping his head hard in a kneejerk reaction, and he huffs a laugh against my skin before moving to the other one.
“Let’s get you out of this,” he murmurs when he pulls away, tugging at my dress.
It’s clear that although he’s had no problem finding his way underneath it, he has no idea how to actually get it off, so I help a little, anxious to have less fabric between us.
Once I’m left in just my panties, he grins in satisfaction.
He mouths at my breasts again, teasing them with his tongue and teeth, then works his way down my stomach, dropping to his knees in front of me.
He looks up at me from the floor of my kitchen, and the expression on his face makes my breath stutter.
“Spread your legs for me, Olivia,” he commands.
I do it without hesitating.
He hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties, but rather than dragging them off right away, he just keeps his hands there as he kisses the inside of my thigh.
My thigh muscles tense, torn between the urge to clench together or open wider.
When Reed trails the tip of his tongue in a long path upward, I hold my breath, biting my bottom lip so hard it hurts.
I can’t look away from him as his face reaches the apex of my thighs. He stops there, dragging his nose along the front of my panties and inhaling.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my toes curling involuntarily. He’s smelling me. Drawing in the scent of the most intimate part of me, bingeing on the aroma of my arousal like it’s a drug.
“So fucking good,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Knew you would be fucking delicious.”
His breath ghosts over the damp fabric of my panties as he speaks, and I have to grip the counter to stay upright.
Finally, finally, he tugs on the spot where he’s got my panties hooked with his fingers, dragging them down and lifting one foot at a time to slip them off. Then his hands close around my hips and he lifts me up so that I’m sitting on the edge of the counter, my legs falling open for him.
His tongue finds me without warning, one long flat stroke, and the sound that comes out of me is loud enough that it’s almost startling in the quiet kitchen.
He looks up at me through his lashes but doesn’t stop or even hesitate, licking lazy circles around my clit that have my hips chasing him.
But when I start shifting too much on the countertop, he pins my hips down with one hand.
“Stay still. You’re like a fucking banquet, Olivia, and I want to enjoy this.”
I bite my lip and try to obey.
He takes his time, alternating between teasing flicks and long, hungry laps that make my eyes roll back a little. When a little gush of wetness spills from my pussy, I wince in embarrassment. But Reed groans, so deep that I feel the vibration of it against my skin.
“You taste so fucking sweet. I could do this all night.”
He clearly means it too, because he keeps going, working me over with his tongue for so long that I lose track of time.
But every time I start getting close, he slows down or backs off the pressure, keeping me stuck right at the edge.
A frustrated noise gets trapped in my throat, and he laughs as he adjusts his grip on my thighs.
“Am I driving you crazy?”
“Yes,” I mutter, because he really is.
He looks up at me with hooded eyes. “I’ll put you out of your misery, I promise. If you beg for it.”
My mouth drops open a little as I stare down at him. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say no—I’ve never begged for anything in my life, and I’ve definitely never begged a guy during sex.
Then again, if I don’t do what he asks, what if he really won’t give me what I need? That thought, mixed with the arousal coursing through my veins and my desperation for one more spark to ignite the embers, has whispered words pouring from my mouth before I can stop them.
“God, Reed, please,” I practically babble. “Please. Fuck, please make me come.”
“That’s a good girl.”