by Evie Bennet
“Sounds like you might be struggling with your muse.” I flicked the water, distorting the image of my body underneath. The ripples spread and faded, so I did it again, looking at the ever-changing pattern. Sounds of splashing, just tiny ones, reminded me of fish jumping out to say hello. To him?
He sighed. “So, I don’t want you to freak out or anything…” Right. That didn’t sound ominous. “But I’m kind of struggling to figure out what we’re doing here.”
What? I thought… we were falling in love.
My knees curled up in the tub, water splashing.
“I know we just started dating, or… whatever, and that’s been really great, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Okay.” I carefully swirled the water with my finger. “Well, do you want to keep dating me? Or be in a relationship?”
I prayed he didn’t say something awful, like this was just for fun.
The hard swallow on the other end of the line reassured me somehow. “Yeah.”
Thank God.
“Do you want to come over tonight?” Our toothbrushes leaned towards each other on the little stand. He should use it. It was just… there. For him. Always for him.
“I do, but Betty, I just keep thinking about you. About us.”
Me too, I smiled. “So come over. You can stop thinking and start touching,” I teased, wrapping an arm around my knees.
His chuckle faded into an awkward pause.
“I’d love to. I wondered, have you ever felt like this before? Been in a relationship that seems all-consuming? So totally in and out of control? Because that’s what this feels like to me. I’m not sure if there’s a road map I should be following here or if we should discuss boundaries.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said that I was the one person in town you wanted to know everything about. I want to know you, too, but I don’t really want you hanging out at Sidewinders.”
“Okay.” That seemed easy enough, although I wasn’t sure how I would spend that free time. “You’ll still…” Confused, I tried to figure out if the bar ban was because he was worried about his friends. “We’ll spend time together though, right?”
“Yeah.” He sounded relieved. “The past few weeks have been crazy, but I’m trying to switch my schedule around to figure things out so we can go on another date, as lame as that may sound.”
“No, that sounds great!” I dragged a finger through the water. “Where do you work? Maybe I can stop by with lunch sometime.”
“I freelance, which makes that kinda difficult. How about I bring you lunch sometime?”
“Okay,” I conceded somewhat bashfully. “No one’s ever brought me lunch before.”
“They should have. But I’m honored I get the brownie points for impressing you with things you already deserve. You’re obviously wonderful. Smart and sexy and gorgeous and handy as hell. I feel like I’m still recovering from this connection we keep feeding. Have you ever felt this way about anyone else?”
No, I declared to myself, followed by a corrective, Not really.
“I dated a bit in high school,” I answered carefully.
I shouldn’t lie to him.
“What about you?”
He scoffed. “Being in the Rattlers doesn’t exactly prime you for the best romantic prospects.”
“But did you admire anyone? Date them?”
My heart clenched, not really wanting to know the answer and desperately trying to avoid my own.
“I dated, but not dated. It was more like I played the occasional wingman for Chewy and Milo.”
What did that mean?
Pushing down the urge to puncture and scratch, I leaned my side against the tub. “Does that mean you’re a one night stand kinda guy?”
“Not even close. To be honest, I haven’t really connected with anybody like this. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was them. There just wasn’t that mystery begging to be unraveled, you know? Diving into another person. Actively pursuing spending time with them, naked or otherwise.”
“I know.” The warm calm spreading through my limbs tingled, irregular. “So are you saying you want to dive into me?”
“Did I not make that clear?” His laugh was more like a throat-clear, the ugly sound somehow endearing. “Um, but yeah. I’ve never felt this way before, and I’ve never had anyone feel quite this way about me before, which is why you’re not the only one freaking out.”
“Good to know.” I smiled wryly, sinking further into the water.
“This probably destroys whatever image of me is out there but I was wondering if there’s anything I can do to, um, see you—when I can’t see you, if that makes sense. I may not have social media, but I figured a gorgeous woman growing up in this day and age would have some stash of selfies or landscapes or... something.”
“I can send you a photo.”
“Betty, what kind of businesswoman doesn’t have an internet footprint?”
“One who’s sitting in the bath, talking to her boyfriend.”
A little strangled noise came through the headpiece, but I could kind of hear his smile. “So I’m your boyfriend now?”
“If you’re up for it.”
“I’d like to think so. Especially because I get access to girlfriend-boyfriend photo ops in the bathtub.”
“You could join me for a boyfriend bath, you know. Stay over. We can get breakfast in the morning.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t stay over tonight, and if I come over I know I’ll be tempted to.” I chewed on my lip, unsure what to do with that. “How about I read you my last mess of a page and you tell me what I did wrong, and then tomorrow we go to breakfast. Our café?”
“I like that idea.”
Our café. Our song. We had so much, already. I couldn’t wait to see what else we had in store.
7
Better
Reed was nervous, enough so that his little half-smiles and the tapping against his coffee cup were noticeable. He swallowed whatever thoughts were tumbling through his head, so I didn’t comment. I knew what it was like to want control. Now I wanted him to have it.
Last night I’d written him an encouraging note in his Word document that his muse would always be beside him. His mind was beautiful, as were his words. Even his soul.
“Would you like some muffin?”
“Yes, I would.” He smirked with determined confidence, reaching over to pluck a bit off the plush top of the day’s choice, a lemon-poppy seed. “So when do I get to try your famous cranberry muffin recipe?”
“Hm.” Perhaps batting my eyelashes wasn’t really fair, but I liked the way his eyes drifted aside, the sly, shy smile that crept up his face when I flirted with him, when our timing was just right. “I don’t know if you’re ready for it.”
He held his hand to his heart. “Ouch. Keeping me on the line, huh, Betts? I’ll have you know I am very practiced at appreciating muffin experiences.”
“Is that supposed to be sexual?”
“No.” He laughed, knees knocking into mine. “In case you can’t tell, my areas of expertise are mostly limited to testing my metabolism, riding a motorcycle, and writing prosaic nonfiction.”
“You consider yourself an expert?”
A little stung, he leaned back in his chair with an incredulous expression.
“I just meant that the first time we met, your bike was a little scuffed up.”
“Oh. I thought you were talking about my writing for a second. That would wound me, Betts.” A relieved laugh drained the tension from his shoulders. Still, he seemed far more nervous than normal, even if he was brave enough to reach across the table and take my hand.
This was nice. Really nice.
The woman behind the counter smiled at us and I had to hide my grin into my tea.
We made a good couple, didn’t we?
Reed’s thumb ran over my knuckles. “This weekend I may have to go out on a run for the Rattlers, so I won’t be writing, but I can still text and uh,
maybe call you if that’s okay?”
“Of course that’s okay. Although being away for so long won’t get you any closer to that cranberry muffin recipe.”
“You’re a cruel woman.”
“Only when I have to be,” I teased, enjoying the way his thumb slid possessively over the inside of my wrist. Maybe I’d make bracelets out of ripped bandanas as a little gift to celebrate our connection. Besides, if I had to bait him into being a little more eager to come back, I was willing to tempt him in all sorts of ways.
Interlocked fingers felt intimate in a way I’d never really experienced before. Not like when I was a child, my mother’s sharp nails caging my hands in. My father’s fist. Not even my siblings’ sweaty, incessant tugging.
Reed’s fingers loosely twined with mine, sometimes to guide me, with a quick glance as if to make sure it’s all right, other times as if it was the most natural thing in the world for us to fall into each other. Things kept getting easier. More fluid.
He followed me into my apartment without prompting. Even though I still asked him if he needed anything like he was a guest, he plopped down on the couch and relaxed, content to make himself at home. I hoped he would make a home here the same way I was nestling into West Ridge.
We ate peanut butter on crackers and watched ‘Criminal Minds’, legs in each other’s laps as we chatted and hypothesized. It was both difficult and easy not to gaze at him when we were watching the show. He caught me, offering a little smile and nudge.
“Are you watching the show, Betts?”
My ponytail flicked along my shoulders as I straightened towards the television, my fingers wandering into his lap.
Not for sex. Just to touch him.
Inevitably, though, Reed kept looking at me too, his gaze lingering as he started stroking my neck. When my top shifted, his attention migrated to my bare shoulder.
“Do you want me to put something else on?” I asked.
“I want you comfortable.”
I switched to some mindless baking show, knowing it was something Reed would like, but not get distracted by or need to follow.
Scrambling a little more upright, Reed braced his hands on the couch as I stood and maneuvered in front of him.
“I told you—”
“To get comfortable.” I grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted it over my head. Reed’s mouth dropped open in awe as if he’d never seen anything like me before. A firm fondness thrummed in my chest. “Are you comfortable?” My shirt fell to the floor with an unceremonious rustle. Reed was still tongue-tied as I unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down.
“I know how you could get even more comfortable,” he managed, thumbing his lip.
“How?”
He thumbed the waistband of my underwear, drawing the lacy material away from my skin and offering me a long, dark look. “Take these off.”
My heart thrummed with excitement as I started to follow his instructions. He seemed eager and ravenous, unable to stop himself from yanking me forward. I gasped as his lips made contact with the dip of my abdomen. That hot, wet mouth plied at my skin, raising goosebumps all over my body until I’d shed my bra and shimmied out of my underwear for his fascinated, fevered gaze to explore.
“Can I touch you?”
“Yeah,” I panted.
Wasn’t it obvious?
One long finger dragged along my slit. If I wasn’t so turned on, I’d probably be embarrassed by how wet I was already. There was this odd, sexy moment where Reed just kind of studied the arousal on his finger.
He was learning me, too, wasn’t he?
I pushed back his hair, relishing the soothing, silky strands. Reed gave me more access by taking the bandana off and setting it on the armrest of the couch.
He was so thoughtful, so beautiful and he wanted to be with me.
Reed sampled my arousal from his finger, eyes locked on mine. I was so stunned by the intimacy of it that I almost wobbled.
“I want to give you a going-away present for this weekend. Something to remember me by.” He pressed a firm, reverent kiss to my hipbone, dipping slightly lower along the groove on the way to the apex of my thighs. “You like my mouth on you?”
“Y-yes.”
“I want you to be comfortable. Show me the best place for me to give you your present for being so good to me all day.”
This time, I took him to the bedroom, my hand wrapped firmly in his.
“Kneel on the mattress while I get undressed.” He planted a sweet, lingering kiss on my lips to tide me over.
I loved every line of his body and wanted to savor it, to trace him with my fingers and lips.
His eyes raked over me like he was planning a path to explore and conquer. “I’m gonna have you on top of me.” When I blushed, glancing away, he leaned forward on the mattress, tilting my chin up to look at him. “You prefer me on top? You sure?”
Biting my lip, I dragged a pillow to the center of the bed and angled it under my lower back. “Maybe like this?”
Reed took a deep breath, nodding vehemently. “Tell me. It’ll please me when you tell me what you need.”
Everything? Anything?
He crawled forward on his hands and knees, the sight of his muscles rippling towards me enough to make my thighs tremble.
“Kiss me first.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
Plush warmth painted my body with something that felt like it seeped through my skin and sunk straight into my flesh. Sounds and vibrations wiggled up through me, like diamonds shedding their rock shells.
His hands felt warm and wide, edging my legs apart so he could see and presumably do such wonderful things. “You ready for me?”
“Yes.”
There was only a moment of hesitation, a pause, really, where he seemed to get ready for me. Warm air spread against my skin. It strangled everything that wasn’t desire right out of my lungs.
“Reedsy—”
He looked up, eyebrows raised as if he was waiting for the next cue.
“Please. I want you.”
With gentle massaging pressure, he kissed me. It was odd at first. I didn’t think I’d ever been kissed down there. But then his lips parted, and his tongue swept across my clit and an oh sensation rippled through me, my legs jerking in surprise against his body.
I repeated his name, head tilting back as my eyes closed in relief. Hopefully, my feedback made him happy. There was so much feeling, so much emotion that I was basking in every second without fully being able to process it.
He had a certain tenacity that might have come from inexperience, moves that tickled more than tantalized, but all of it was good.
“Yes, Reed, suck right there,” I murmured, lovingly stroking his hair as he thrived under my encouragement, blue eyes sharp and focused on my face before his chin dug in to get a better angle.
It was the opposite of being punched. It was perfect, precise impact. Gasping, I rutted against him, the tidal wave of yes pulling me under. There was nothing else in the world but sensation, but Reed, but love. It pushed through my veins, my bones, stretching out of my body and slowly wriggling back down again. Reed tentatively pulled back.
“Oh, Reed, that was wonderful.” I hummed, one arm draped over my forehead in pure, sated exhaustion.
“Better than flowers?”
“Way better.” I giggled, flattening my legs so I could see more of his beautiful, cum-coated face. “Although for future reference, I prefer pots to bouquets. They tend to live longer.”
“Duly noted.” He sucked a mark into my thigh, moisture dripping down my slit as I keened.
He was going to make me come for the rest of my life.
“I heard this rumor,” he murmured, kissing and licking the new bruise. “That with the right influence, we might be able to get you to do that multiple times.”
“Paid attention in sex-ed?”
“I may have done some research,” he mused, kissing my curves, gauging
my sensitivity.
“Did you read up on sex for me?”
His teeth grazed my hipbone, still posing the question, “Do you want more?”
“Yes. I want everything.”
I tapped him with my thigh, encouraging his slow descent to make my body keep buzzing his name.
The night before he left, he wrote almost two whole chapters with a note thanking his radiant muse.
I grinned and dared to write back, my pleasure <3 only five minutes after he’d stopped typing.
That was probably dangerous. Way too dangerous. He would know.
Strangely, though, I didn’t mind.
Humming our song, I hopped into bed and waited for his nightly movie to pop up on my screen.
By that point, it was second nature to text him. I smiled when his icon showed up along with his reply. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all night.’
I felt the same way.
After work, our song was still humming in my veins as I washed my hands. I’d only gotten a few text messages, but Reed was on the road, doing whatever he needed to do.
I still didn’t know what that was, exactly. It didn’t always bother me but it made me want to crack my neck to release some of the longstanding tension in my body.
Something popped into my brain, a random, side tangent of a memory that he said his fire alarm was broken. I could fix that. It might be nice to have a good surprise as a welcome home, even if I couldn’t explicitly tell him it was me. It’d make me feel better, knowing I helped him be safer in some small way.
Like my motorcycle club leather-wearing boyfriend worried about being safe.
Well, I would worry about it for him.
I wasn’t sure which trailer was his, but it didn’t take much deductive reasoning to figure it out. I poked through some of the mail slots and found one with mail for John Reed Parker. JR Parker must be his dad? Or was that Reed? He said it was a family name. After making sure his dad wasn’t in, I picked open the lock with a bobby pin. The trailer was so easy to break into; he should just move in with me. Maybe I could talk to him about it when he got back.