Chapter 33
Olivia
When I wake up the next morning, Reed’s arm is wrapped around me, his hand on my side. Possessive, even in sleep.
My stomach flutters when I think of our conversation from yesterday. I can still hardly believe it was real. But this—this is proof. I’m in his bed. His body is pressed against mine. His chest rises and falls, relaxed, deep breaths.
I rest my head on his shoulder, and as I do, I feel him stir.
Suddenly, before I can protest, he slips his hands under me and rolls me gently onto my back, a simple, fluid motion. I grin up at him, and he looks back down at me, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Sore,” I reply.
The smirk vanishes from his face, to be replaced by a look of concern. “Really? Are you okay?”
I huff a laugh. “I’m fine. I’m not sore from the crash.”
It’s true. After last night, I can hardly feel the bruises anymore, even though I can see some of them marking my skin. I’m not sore from the crash. I’m sore from the sex marathon.
A grin creeps across his face as he realizes what I’m getting at. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his hand sliding along my inner thigh. “Well, I guess I ought to do something to take the edge off, huh?”
His fingers brush slowly down my thighs, and I hold my breath as he begins to lightly tease my pussy.
His touch is gentle, but still makes me shiver in anticipation.
He starts slow, making me beg for it silently by the way I chase his touch, then starts to increase the pressure and speed until I’m moaning and writhing on the bed.
When I come, I let out a pleased, plaintive little sound. I’m still worn out after last night, but his fingers can work magic regardless. Once it’s done, he bends down and kisses me gently on the forehead. Then he tilts my head back as his lips meet mine.
We break apart, and I hold his gaze, a flutter of nerves in the pit of my stomach despite the dreamy post-orgasm haze that clouds my eyes.
“So what happens now?” I whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“Where… where do we go from here?” For me, this is all unknown territory, and now that I’ve voiced the question, anxiety has started to invade my sense of peace.
“That depends,” he says softly. He doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. The pad of his thumb brushes my cheek as he speaks. “Where do you want to go from here?”
“I…” I trail off for a few seconds, then summon my courage and blurt out, “I’m not ready to get married.”
I’m half expecting him to look dismayed, but he doesn’t. He just nods silently.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just… we’re almost at the end of this thing, aren’t we? But I can’t keep going with this as if we’re actually going to get married when it’s over. If we’re going to do this for real, I want to take the time to be real.”
“Of course.”
“I want to date you. I want to do things in the right order.” My heart is pounding; I’m worried that he’ll take this as a bad sign, an indication that I don’t like him, or that I’m not the right fit for him.
To my relief, though, he nods. “I understand completely. And I want the same thing.”
I exhale, leaning my face against his hand. “Okay. Good.”
“This is all new for me,” he admits. “It’s a little terrifying, to be honest. I’ve never been in a relationship like this—you know, a… a real one.”
“But you want it, right?”
“I do,” he assures me. “I really, really do. I just wanted you to know that I understand how you’re feeling, and I get why you want to take things slower.” He grins lopsidedly. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
I smile in return, happy to know that I’m not the only one who’s scared—and glad that he’s able to share with me. If we’re going to make this work, we need to be able to talk to each other.
“I don’t want to screw it up, either,” I tell him. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing. I haven’t had the best luck in relationships in the past, so this is all pretty new for me, too.”
“That’s hard to believe.” His thumb runs over my lower lip. His eyes are impossibly soft as they meet mine.
“We can throw ourselves into the unknown together,” I breathe. “You and me. It’ll be fun.”
“It will,” he murmurs in agreement. Then he lowers his head to kiss me, deeper this time. Heat stirs in my chest, and I reach up to lace my fingers across his back, anchoring myself to him.
He makes a hungry sound in his throat, a sound that promises more, speaks to his desire.
I suddenly become aware that this is about to turn into more—more sex, more time spent together in bed.
The thought excites me for a moment, before I remind myself that I have all the time in the world with him now.
And right now, he’s got work to get to.
I hold out a hand and press it against his chest. “I don’t want your dad to get pissed at you.”
He groans, huffing, and sits up.
“Or at me,” I add, “for distracting you.”
“He won’t have to know it was you,” Reed protests, “and I don’t care if he gets pissed at me.”
“You gotta go to work,” I say, grinning. “Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I don’t want to, but… fine.”
He rolls off of me and climbs out of bed, stretching. For a few seconds, I lie back against the pillows, admiring the lines of his body in the morning sunlight. Then I follow his lead, heading to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee while he jumps in the shower.
I scribble a little Post-it note for him while the coffee brews like I always do, but this time, as I doodle the little heart at the end of the words, I feel as though I’m in the middle of a dream.
Is this real? Are we actually doing this?
I stick the Post-it to the counter beside the coffee machine, then boil myself some water for tea and flop down onto the couch, waiting for Reed. As I do, I pull out my phone to text Riley—after everything that’s happened, she deserves an update.
ME: Omg, I need to talk to you
RILEY:?
RILEY: What’s up?
RILEY: Wait, is this about Reed? Tell me this is about Reed.
ME: You guessed it.
RILEY: AH! What happened? Tell me everything!
As I’m typing up a message, giving Riley the basic information, Reed emerges from his bedroom.
His hair is ruffled, still damp from the shower, but he’s dressed for work in slacks and a white button-down shirt.
His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, though—there’s always a tiny rebellion in his outfit.
“I made you some coffee,” I say, grinning up at him. “It’s in the kitchen.”
“Thanks.” He fastens his last loose button, then heads to the kitchen to pour himself a thermos. When he emerges back into the living room, he approaches me on the couch, leaning down to plant a kiss on my forehead. His breath smells like coffee.
For a moment, I want nothing more than to pull him down onto the couch beside me. The two of us could spend today exactly like we spent last night. I have a feeling he wouldn’t argue—that it’s what he wants, too.
But I’d never make him choose between me or his work. I know how passionate he is about both.
So instead, I smile up at him warmly. “I can’t wait for you to come home.”
“Me neither,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze. “This whole day is just an unfair interruption, isn’t it?”
I hum in agreement. “This feels like a dream.”
“In a good way, I hope.”
“In the best way,” I assure him.
He kisses me again, softly, then pulls away, throwing a last look over his shoulder as he heads for the elevator.
As the doors slide closed behind him, my phone vibrates in my hand—it’s Riley, responding to my lengthy explanation of what happened last night.
RILEY: Are you kidding me!?!? Omg!
RILEY: I’m so happy for you ahhh!
I grin at my phone. This is pretty much the same reaction I had when I learned that she and Cole had gotten together.
RILEY: Are you busy right now? We need to talk about this!
ME: No, I’m not busy. Come on over!
RILEY: On my way!
My bestie arrives half an hour later, and the doorman sends her straight up to the penthouse. The second she arrives, she rushes up to me and wraps me in a tight hug.
“I can’t believe it,” she exclaims. “You have to tell me absolutely everything!”
“I will, I will,” I say, laughing. “Come in—sit down. There’s some coffee in the kitchen if you want it.”
“You know what, I think I’ll take you up on that. It’s early, and I could use it!”
Once we’re both settled on the couch, a mug set on the coffee table for each of us, Riley curls up and turns to me.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” she says. “I want all the details.”
“Well, I told you the basics—we’ve been sort of having this no-strings-attached arrangement, but lately, I’d been feeling like it wasn’t as simple as we were pretending.”
“You mean you guys had feelings for each other.” Riley sounds practically giddy. “Of course you did. I knew it.”
“Well, you knew that I had a crush on him because I told you.”
“No, that’s not what I’m talking about—I knew that you guys had feelings for each other. There were vibes between the two of you.”
“Whatever you say.” I grin, reaching for my mug. I scoop some sugar into the coffee and stir it, then take a sip.
“So what happened?” Riley asks. “Who made the first move?”
“Well… you know how Reed came and picked me up from the hospital?”
“Yeah?”
“He was hovering around me all day. He was, like, obsessive—I couldn’t get him to relax, or just sit down for five seconds. He just kept getting me stuff.”
“That sounds like the opposite of a problem,” Riley says.
“Yeah, well—you weren’t there. It was a little intense.” I laugh at the memory, even though this was only a day ago; the past twenty-four hours have felt like a lifetime. “Anyway, I told him to chill, and asked what was wrong with him—and, well… he confessed his feelings.”
Riley beams so widely that I’m convinced it must hurt her cheeks. “About time!”
“So… yeah,” I say. “That’s where we’re at. I’m not sure what comes of this, but…”
“You both said you want it to be real?”
“Yeah, we did.”
“Is the wedding still on?”
I hesitate. “Well… no. At least, I don’t think so. I’m not quite sure how we’re going to handle it.”
“Let me guess—that was too fast for you,” Riley says knowingly.
“Of course it was too fast for me.” I exhale, shaking my head. “I mean… I won’t deny these feelings, but I think that if we really want to make it work, we shouldn’t be rushing into this. The wedding was just going to be a PR stunt, anyway. I want our relationship to mean more than that.”
“Good for you.” There’s a note of approval in Riley’s voice; she sounds proud of me. “And how did Reed take that? You guys have talked about it, right?”
“Yeah. He agreed with me, which was a huge relief. So we’re probably going to figure something out.”
“That’s great. I’m so happy for you guys.” Riley smiles warmly, lifting her mug to sip her coffee, then cradles it to her chest. “And I’m glad you’re being honest with him. That’s a good way to start.”
“I gotta be honest—I have it bad, “ I say, running my finger along the edge of my own mug. “I’m, like, falling for him—I’m head over heels for him. I think he might be one of the best men I’ve ever known.”
Riley lays her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, girl. I know the feeling.”
“He’s been so good to me. I feel like…” I trail off, lost in thought for a moment, then say, “I want to do something for him. He’s been doing things for me this entire time, and I want… I don’t know. To celebrate this.”
Already, Riley is nodding enthusiastically. “It’s been a long time coming,” she agrees. “What do you think you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t really…” I pause, then blurt out, “Wait. I have an idea. Do you mind helping me with something?”
“Of course,” she replies. “Anything you need.”