I resume a defensive stance and continue to block his jabs as we talk.
"I know you think I'm only interested in the spectacle of a scandal, but that's not true. I feel responsibility to uncover the truth. Our methods might be different, but our goal is the same."
Perhaps because my last words were true, the suspicion in his eyes ebbs away a fraction. It's still lingers though, and I know he senses I'm not telling him the whole truth.
"Maybe we aren't so different, after all." He pauses, and then adds, "If you tell me what you're looking for, maybe I can help."
I shake my head. "I'll handle it myself."
He drops his hands to his side, but the move doesn't register soon enough. I step too soon, aim my elbow too high, and connect with Reed's face. He stumbles back, rubbing his jaw.
"Shit. I'm sorry."
"You obviously mean business," he says with a flirtatious glint in his eyes that brings a flutter to my stomach.
The heaviness I've been carrying around is barely noticeable today. There were no gifts left on my desk, the Mayor's party is tomorrow, and Reed's on my case, finally taking it seriously. All of this has lightened my load by a thousand pounds.
"Is this a date?" I ask.
"I—what?"
"You came to pick me up, I let you put your hand on my back and take me to your place. You've refrained from giving me a hateful look all evening. This feels like a date."
He laughs and I love the sound. I love the way his face lights up with a satisfied smile. This was the outcome I was hoping for.
Still, he narrows his eyes in resistance. "Is this your weak way of asking me out?"
"Call me old fashioned, but I believe the man should do the asking. So, go ahead, hit me with your best pick-up line."
"Okay." He crosses his arms over his chest and straightens in mock interest. Or maybe it's real interest. He's reverted to the same serious-faced expression, except for the playfulness dancing in his eyes. He tilts his head. "Hey."
"Hey what?" I ask, snatching up my bottle of water to take a sip.
"That's my pick-up line. Hey."
"That's all it takes, huh?"
"Yeah. Doesn't do anything for you?"
I respond with a slow shake of my head as I struggle furiously not to smile.
"Works on everyone except you."
It worked on me just fine.
"I just don't see your appeal," I tease.
"Touché." He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth when he smiles. I don't think he realizes he does it, or how it's one of the sexiest things I've ever seen when he sinks his teeth into it for a split second. There's mischief in his eyes, like he's tempted to call my bluff. Tempted to make me admit how much I really want him.
We move on to practicing holds again, but sparks sear my skin every time it comes in contact with his, however innocent, however fleeting. A few moves in, he shakes his head and throws up his hands. "Stop, stop. You're still thinking too much. I need you to move instinctually. We've done these enough times. You should be letting muscle memory take over."
"I'm trying," I say.
He looks past me, turns, and heads for his room. I'm frozen, wondering if he just quit on me, mid-lesson. The sound of fabric ripping reaches my ears and soon after, he reemerges, hands behind his back like he's holding something he doesn't want me to see yet.
"I've got an idea. You might not like it."
"Try me," I say.
He strides right up to me without preamble. When his hand reaches out, my heart trips in my chest, stupidly thinking he's about to pull me into his arms. But then I realize he's holding something. A piece of black fabric.
I stare at it, confused.
"I'm going to blindfold you."
I'm dangerously close to overheating just from the look in his eyes, from how close he stands to me.
He holds it out like he's asking for permission to put it on me.
I nod, a nervous knot tying in my stomach.
He places the fabric over my eyes. But right before he covers them, I glimpse the fleeting haziness of his expression, telling me he's getting roped into the exact same moment.
The t-shirt material blocks out all traces of light.
"I'll give you a minute to get used to it," Reed says, still somewhere in front of me. "Tell me when you're ready."
A strange calmness comes over me, my senses collecting at a pin. My body prickles with awareness. Of my hands at my sides, of my breathing, the excited pulse in my ears.
Most of all, I'm aware of Reed.
He doesn't make a sound, but something shifts in the air and I feel his presence move to my right.
"I'm ready," I whisper, my own voice too loud for my heightened state.
He grabs my wrist and I break free in an instant, bringing my arms up in a defensive posture. My skin tingles in anticipation of his touch, waiting for his next move.
He moves in a rush of air and wraps an arm over my shoulders from behind, pinning my back to his chest with a firm grip. I hesitate at the smell of his skin just under my nose, then recover, remembering to drop my center of gravity, only to pause again at the feel of something below his belt pressing into my back. Warmth floods me, but I will myself to move. Stepping behind him, I break his hold and push him away.
The clambering of footsteps marks him stumbling forward.
"Good," he praises.
"I can do better," I say. "Again."
He repeats the move. This time my response is more fluid. Still, it's hard to evoke alarm, hard to feel threatened when nothing about him triggers that response. My body is working against me, wanting to prolong the seconds he's touching me.
For God's sake, Amelia. Focus.
He loops his arms around me again, chest pushing into mine, as he holds me in a tight bear hug. I'm not ready for the way every inch of him presses against me. I'm not prepared for the way his masculine scent, subtle but intoxicating, stirs me and lulls me all at once. It's familiar and yet, I'm nowhere near immune.
"Focus," he says, and his warm breath is dangerously close to my lips. But I'm frozen, breathing slowly. "Amelia…," he says, low, in warning.
His voice is lust, thinly veiled in surprise, and when his warm breath falls over my face again, a dull ache spreads down to my core. A second stretches out before us. I can't move, and I don't want to. Even through the darkness pressed to my lids, I imagine what our bodies look like, flush together and paralyzed by our own desires. Without an inch of space between us, there's no room for him to hide the unyielding part of him pressing into me as it grows increasingly harder.
Perhaps coming to the same realization, he loosens his hold and creates a few inches of space, but he doesn't seem able to pull away completely. His arms drop to my lower back and every part of me soaks up the desire seeping from him. Our bodies speak in the silence, whispering cravings demanding to be fulfilled. Yet we waver on the cusp of no return, on the edge of everything we want, straddling the cliff for fear we might drown indulging in it.
Flames crackle and lick between my thighs and for the first time all night, I truly move without thinking. Slow and steady, I push myself up onto my tiptoes and blindly press my lips to his skin. He inhales in surprise, but I seem to have only touched the corner of his mouth. His hand comes up to grasp the side of my face and for a moment, I think he's going to urge me back and away from him.
Instead, his fingers sink into my hair and, barely audible, he whispers, "Fuck it."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Reed
HER LIPS ARE SMOOTH under mine, just the way I imagined they would be. They part to welcome my tongue and I taste her for the very first time. Salt and vanilla and the impatience of a feverish thirst. I kiss her like I'm afraid she might come to her senses, because every part of me is urging me to come to my own. But this is one impulsive decision I don't regret, because her body relaxes in my arms with a low moan, and I know she's been waiting for this as long as I have.
Hurt
ing for it, too.
We kiss between hot breaths, greedy mouths moving in blind delirium. She exudes an intoxicating energy and it wraps around us both, a torrid storm gathering us up in its wake.
I've never felt this close to losing control.
I take her bottom lip between my teeth and give it a soft bite before pulling back from our kiss. She's breathing harder than ever, face tilted up blindly in anticipation. Being able to take in the sight of her while her eyes are covered is indulgence like I've never known.
"Is this what you want?" I ask her, offering up a silent dare.
Her lips remain parted, reddened and plumped, as though she's catching her breath. I know she's waiting for more.
"Tell me," I say. "Tell me it's what you want."
"I want it."
On an exhale, she brings her body completely flush with mine.
An agonizing need shoots through me.
I pull the blindfold off of her eyes. Her hooded stare rouses me further, luring me right out of my senses. Without saying a word, I grip her shirt and drag it slowly upward. My fingertips trace the smooth skin underneath and she reels under my touch. I toss the shirt aside and take her in.
She's gorgeous, glowing under the room's light.
Her breasts are firm mounds of creamy skin contained in a simple black bra. I trace the tops of her breasts with a finger, dipping into her cleavage and up again, sensing the shiver that makes her bite her lip.
"Is this what you want, Sebastian?" she asks, teasing the helpless way my mouth opens at the sight of her.
She's never called me by my first name before. Hearing it now makes me determined to make her mine. There's no denying how badly I want her. No point in even trying to pretend I don't. The growing bulge in my pants is too obvious, and I've spent enough time trying to bring attention away from it, unsure of what she wanted and not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. But, fuck, I need her to feel it now, to feel how it strains the fabric of my clothes.
"You have no idea."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
I wrap an arm around her back. The other hand slides up her flat stomach and covers one of her breasts, molding it under my palm. My hand rises to her collarbone, tracing the curves of her beautiful neck with my fingers. But the thought of her bruises makes me tense. The marks are barely visible now, but the memory of how bad they were is fresh in my mind and, I'm sure, fresh in hers.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"What's wrong is the part of me that wants you, doesn't just crave to be inside of you, it wants to fuck you senseless. Hard. Rough. Mercilessly." The urge to rough handle her is so overwhelming, I have to take a breath to rein myself in. "But I'll go slow," I say against her lips, more as a reminder to myself. "I'll be gentle."
Her fingers thread through my hair, pulling tight until my head tilts back. She brings her lips to my neck and her next words warm the skin there.
"I'm not made of glass. Why the hell would you be gentle?"
I just about lose it. Lowering my face to hers, I bite her bottom lip again. This time I linger there, even as a deep sound rumbles in my throat.
"You're making me crazy."
Hands duck under my t-shirt and her soft palms run up my back, collecting the fabric along the way. I help her in one fluid move by tugging at the neckline of the shirt until it's over my head and tossed to the ground.
She runs her fingers over the grooves of my ab muscles, tracing them down.
I lean in for another kiss, tasting her more feverishly than before, dragging my hands from around her waist to her back, where my greedy fingers slip between her pants and underwear, pulling both down around the curves of her ass until the material falls at her feet.
In response, one of her hands disappears under the waistband of my pants. Slender fingers wrap firmly around my erection and cause me to rake in a breath. Her eyes rise to mine, pupils wide, irises small. She's surprised, impressed even. I've never been this hard in my life. I've never needed to be inside anyone as badly as I need to be inside of her.
She angles herself closer still. I take her in for a kiss, but pull away from her to take off my pants. When I step back, I appreciate the sight of her in only her bra. Her contours and curves have me rushing to find a condom in a nearby drawer.
Her eyes are glued to the way the condom rolls onto my dick. She unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the floor. For a moment, I'm speechless at the sight of her fully naked. But when I charge forward, we pick up our kiss right where we left off, hungry and desperate. She wraps her legs around me and, holding her by the thighs, I lower her onto me, shutting my eyes at how she feels wrapping around me, squeezing me all the way.
Fuck. She's on fire.
I press her against the wall and she rests her arms on my shoulders, gripping the back of my head as I thrust in and out of her. Faster and faster, my strokes quickly growing frenzied. Each one drives me even crazier for her, until I'm insatiable. Her moans sound like ecstasy and my groans pure torture. Because every time I thrust into her again, I'm throbbing with a maddening ache for more.
I relish the sight of her gorgeous face, twisting in delight as I pulse in and out of her.
Her hoarse voice moaning out things like, "Yes, yes," and "Right there," and "Don't stop," is the second sexiest damn thing I've ever heard in my life.
The first? The way her words grow incoherent as I fuck her relentlessly. My fingers clutch her ass and her head hangs back against the wall, mouth parted, and hairline damp with sweat.
"Oh God," she cries out and tightens around me.
Her body coils in my arms and I drive into her faster than ever before. Her moans turn into a euphoric whine, then into a sigh of utter satisfaction.
I hold her tight and drop my face to her neck. "Fuck."
"More," she says. "I want more."
I'm still rock hard and now that I know what she feels like, I might never pull out of her again. I have no intention of saying no to her and it seems like she wants to cry out yes all night.
Kissing her, I guide us over to the padded column she'd been punching earlier and bring her feet back to the ground. She opens her eyes, confused as to why I've pulled away. She's still breathing hard and looks just about ready to beg me to sink back inside of her. Fuck, that look. I wish I could bottle it.
"There's something I can't get out of my head," I say, taking her by the waist and turning her to face the column.
She peers back at me, puzzled. "You want to train…now?"
"No. But you might want to hold on."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Amelia
"I NEED YOU LIKE this."
He trails kisses down my neck as he speaks, sending sparks across my already sensitive skin. My knees go weak, because every part of me is a raw nerve to his touch. I wrap my arms around the column without a second thought and his large hands take hold of my hips. My body reels under his heated touch, back arching, head falling back. And when he sinks into me again, a long, deep groan slips from his mouth.
Sebastian Reed has lost all notion of control.
He's not delicate or patient and I'm glad for both. He fucks me the way I want to be. Right out of my mind and until time, place, and circumstances become irrelevant details. My entire body remains in a perpetual state of arousal, and the greed with which he takes me makes me wonder how in the hell he managed not to before now. Our sex is volatile, all consuming, and unforgiving. I surrender to his touch in a way I've never done before with any other man. He tried to keep his distance from the moment we met, holding me at arm's length while simultaneously luring me inward. Fanning the flame, but staying just out of reach. I've burned and I've craved him in secret. And tonight? He strayed too close and sent us both stumbling across the threshold, across the line.
The urgency of his pace makes me cling to the column for fear I might collapse from the frenzied sensations. His arduous breaths sear my neck. I'm teetering over the edge of delicious hysteri
a one moment and spiraling into an orgasm the next, twisting and coiling in his arms.
Bliss. Nothing but pure, mindless, unadulterated bliss.
The moment it's over I'm ready to plunge back in.
"More," I beg, not caring how desperate I sound. "I want more."
He spins me around and picks me up by my ass. His strong arms hold me tight against him as he stumbles into his bedroom, unable to see where he's going because his face is in my hands and our lips are inseparable.
My legs are wrapped so tightly around him, I'm not sure I could loosen them if I tried.
But I do. I have to break our kiss so he can lay me down on his bed, before lowering onto me and taking me again.
Again.
He seems fixated on eliciting noises from me, in making my heart thunder in my chest, and bringing an agonizing desire between my legs that no orgasm could ever quell.
Again.
He takes me in ways that leave me breathless, sweeping me into a whirlwind, until I'm ignorant to every damn thing outside of what I want, what I need. A reprieve from danger and stress. The closest thing to a safe haven I've ever experienced. I could remain intoxicated by the way he slides into me, wordlessly marking me as his, even if just for tonight. Tonight could last for as long as we can.
We make eye contact and I can't look away. I can see the feverish need in him, overflowing onto his face, driving his pace, driving my moans.
"Fuck." He buries his face in my hair and makes a long, masculine sound that vibrates down to my core. He holds still for a long while, but my hips continue to thrash underneath him, grinding until the wave of ecstasy overtakes me.
"Oh God," I breathe out.
His lips are at my ear, and though he came, he holds himself inside of me, still long and hard. I don't want him to move. I don't want to feel the rush of cold air when our bodies separate, so I hold tighter when he tries.
"Wait," I whisper, not caring if he hears the way my voice trembles.
I stare at the ceiling, trying and failing to steady my heartbeat. His face is buried in the crook of my neck and his heavy breaths bathe my skin in warmth.
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