Chapter 13 #2
This pussy is fucking perfect, he says in my memory. Come on, Olivia. Come for me.
I’m chasing it now, hips moving against the toy, not even trying to be quiet. The tile is slick under my palm, my fingers slipping a little every time I rock forward, and I can almost hear him groaning underneath the sound of the water.
When I come, it knocks the air out of me and my knees nearly give. I cry out into the steam, my pussy clenching, and for a long second the only thing I can hear over the water is the ragged sound of my own breathing.
It takes a while before I can stand up straight. I’m leaning against the tile, water still pounding down on my shoulders, and my heart is hammering in my ears. The vibrator is still going in my hand, and I fumble with the button until it finally shuts off.
As the intensity of the orgasm finally starts to ebb away, my heart trips inside my chest as a thought dawns on me. In the peak of my orgasm, did I accidentally cry out Reed’s name?
Oh fuck. My pulse kicks up, the sudden jolt of adrenaline that shoots through my body at that idea making my stomach flip over on itself.
No. No way. The walls in this apartment are thick. I can’t have been that loud.
Right?
I drag in a breath, then let it out on a long, silent count as I try to tame my out-of-control heart rate.
If I dwell on that question too long, I’ll end up locking myself in this bathroom forever and never coming out, so I shove it out of my mind and turn off the water before stepping out of the shower.
I let my wet hair fall over my shoulders to air dry, throwing on a t-shirt and jeans.
I also store the vibrator in the drawer next to the bed, just in case I need it again soon.
The way this has been going so far, it’s going to see a lot of use.
When I enter the kitchen, Reed is sitting at the counter with a plate of fresh-made eggs and bacon and a glass of orange juice.
“Good morning,” I mumble, self-conscious.
“Good morning,” he says. He gestures to the stove, where there’s an identical plate waiting for me—a few slices of bacon and two eggs, over medium. Just how I like them. “There’s breakfast over there for you, if you want it.”
“Thanks,” I say. Internally, I breathe a little sigh of relief. Reed’s being… normal. There’s nothing in his tone to indicate that he overheard me in the shower. I was probably just being paranoid. He didn’t notice.
As I take the plate and turn back to the counter, though, our gazes meet. His eyes are hot on me, and his voice low as he says, “Did you have a good shower?”
Okay. He definitely heard me.
I don’t know what he heard, exactly—I’m still not sure what came out of my mouth—but he heard enough to give him some idea of what happened.
Fuck.
I open my mouth, then close it. You have to answer him! I chastise myself. Or this is so much more awkward than it needs to be!
After a moment, I manage to stammer, “Um… yeah. Yes. I love the… the water pressure. In your apartment. It’s very…”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Firm? Strong?”
It’s all I can do not to collapse on his floor and die from shame. Without elaborating, I stuff my mouth full of eggs. I manage to avoid Reed’s gaze as I finish my food in three bites, then rush off to the foyer. I snatch up my keys from the hall table and bolt into the elevator.
The doors close on me, and I lean against the back of the elevator, watching the numbers tick down. I screw my eyes shut, humiliated.
I can’t be around him. He kills every rational brain cell left in my head.
Luckily, I had plans today anyway. Now that I’m away from Reed, and the hurricane in my mind has calmed down, I’m able to think up a line to give him later, an explanation for my flight from his apartment: I was running late to meet up with the girls.
It’s almost true. Almost.
I’m actually five minutes early to our brunch spot, a little bistro on Fifth. Sophie and Riley both arrive after I do, joining me at the table.
Over the course of the subway ride over, and the two-block walk to the restaurant, I’ve managed to collect myself, so they don’t realize that anything’s wrong.
“Hey!” Riley says brightly, sliding into the booth next to me. “Long time no see. What have you been up to?”
“Fretting over my parents,” I reply, giving her a warm smile. “Knitting a scarf three miles long. The usual. How about you guys?”
Riley tells me about a painting of hers that she just managed to sell to a gallery. She sounds proud, and she should be.
Painting is just a hobby for Riley. But over the past few months, her work has improved in leaps and bounds, thanks to her new art studio in the house she shares with Cole and the time she has on her hands now that she’s not pulling double restaurant shifts.
She seems happier than I’ve ever seen her.
And Sophie mentions a new project at work, with the potential for a promotion on the horizon. There’s anticipation in her voice as she speaks, but it’s the good kind—she’s excited, and focused.
Privately, I wish I had the same bedrock that the two of them do, the sense of security that undergirds everything they’re talking about.
The waiter swings by to take our orders, and we all enjoy fresh coffee, mimosas, and French toast. I let Riley and Sophie share my leftovers, since Reed already made me a decent breakfast at The Luxe.
I make an effort to lose myself in the conversation, trying to take my mind off of the awkwardness from this morning. I’m sure that by the time I come home, he’ll have forgotten about everything, and things will be exactly like they were before.
Yeah, the cynical part of my mind adds. And he’ll find some new way to get under your skin after that. It’s what Reed does.
I manage to push the thought away. Until we step out of the bistro.
Idling at the curb, waiting, is a sleek, elegant black SUV—polished, with tinted windows and gleaming rims. There’s a man standing silently beside it, dressed in a well-tailored tux and leather driving gloves, his hands folded.
I freeze on the sidewalk, and Riley and Sophie come to a halt to either side of me, their chatter dying instantly.
“No way, right?” I mutter to Riley, who arches an eyebrow.
The man next to the car takes a step forward, addressing me. “Are you Ms. Quinn?”
I swallow nervously. “Um… yes?”
“Mr. Eastwood requested a car be sent to you for your shopping trip this afternoon.”
“He did what?” I gape at the vehicle. I’d assumed we’d be taking the subway, not riding in a chauffeured car.
Next to me, Riley gives a little bounce, clapping her hands. “Yes! Oh my gosh—this will be so much more fun!”
“It’ll be more convenient, too,” Sophie observes. “We can put anything we buy in the trunk—we won’t have to drag it around all day.”
Both of them seem to notice my hesitation. I dither on the curb, unwilling to take the first step toward the car. It’s a nice gesture, but it seems so… extravagant.
Is this how things are going to be from now on?
I’m almost afraid to accept the gesture. What if I start to rely on this sort of luxury? When this six months is over…
“Olivia,” Riley says, tapping me on the shoulder, “we’re gonna be buying some expensive stuff. If we ride in Reed’s car, we’re definitely not going to get mugged. Right?”
She has a point. Gritting my teeth, I approach the car. Before I can reach the back door, the driver reaches out to open it for me, ushering the three of us inside.
I’m mortified at first, staring around at the car’s plush interior.
There’s a partition to divide the backseat of the car from the front, but I don’t close it; I’d rather be able to see out of the windshield.
There’s even a small refrigerator at my feet, stocked with champagne, ginger ale, and sparkling water.
As Sophie takes the middle seat, she reaches into the fridge and cracks open a bottle of Perrier. Catching my eye, she grins.
“It’s hard to get used to, at first,” she says with a shrug. “I get it. But once you start to embrace the perks, you’ll find yourself enjoying them.”
Fair enough. If I’m Reed’s fiancé for the next six months, I might as well make the most of the situation. I take a bottle of Perrier from the fridge for myself, sinking into the soft leather of the seats.
The driver glances into the backseat. “Where to first, ladies?”
“Well, we’re already on Fifth,” Riley says. “Why don’t we start at one end and make our way down the avenue?”
The driver nods, then turns to the road and peels away from the curb.
As we roll down Fifth Avenue, Riley turns to me eagerly. “So. How are you adjusting to life with Reed?”
“Um. There’s been a bit of an adjustment period,” I admit.
“Oh, yeah?”
I can feel my cheeks going red with embarrassment all over again. “There was a little bit of an… incident this morning.”
“What kind of incident?” Sophie asks.
I make eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. Amusement flickers in his eyes, and he reaches for a switch in the front seat. The partition slides up, and just like that, our conversation is private—much more private than we could have hoped for on the subway.
“Well, things have been kind of… tense, “ I begin carefully, hoping that if I’m nonspecific enough, they won’t know exactly what I’m talking about instantly. “So Reed got me a present this morning to help take the edge off.”
Riley, who has known me for way too long, starts to snicker. “What kind of present?”
“A vibrator.”
Riley’s giggles turn into full-blown laughter, and a grin spreads across Sophie’s face, as well. “Oh, good.”
I lift my chin in a valiant attempt to preserve my dignity. “So, obviously, I used it. In the shower.”
“And?” Sophie prompts.
“While I was in the shower, using it, I… maybe, sort of, said something… incriminating.”
“What do you mean, incriminating?”
“I might have said his name.”
“You might have?”
More heat flares in my cheeks, and I duck my head. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t really thinking at the time.”