“What are you doing?” Drew shook out of his grip.
“Coming to explain that I am not flirting with your roommate. Well, I am,” he amended, “but not because I want to.”
Drew folded her arms over her breasts—God, those breasts. He had to mentally will his attention back to the conversation he’d started. At least they were alone for the moment.
“You don’t seem too broken up about having to flirt with her,” Drew said. “Apparently, you’ve got her eating from your hand.”
“She threatened me two seconds ago,” he said in her roommate’s defense—and a bit in his own. “If you want to blame anyone for this situation, blame yourself. You’re the one who doesn’t want to tell Gage the truth.”
“You didn’t seem to have a problem agreeing with me. What’s the matter, Reid? Worried that my brother will lose his hero worship for you now that you’ve stooped to have sex with someone like me?”
What the—?
If Reid was upset before it paled to the rage roaring through his bloodstream now. How dare Drew talk about herself that way? And what the hell did she mean “someone like her”?
“Stoop?” He wheeled her backward and they bumped into a door that read Employees Only. He tried the knob, hoping someone had been careless. As luck would have it, the door opened. He shoved them both inside the pitch-black closet and shut the door. He flipped on the light switch, illuminating the cramped space in a yellow glow. Stacks of paper towels, takeaway containers and other items towered on shelves lining the small closet.
“I do not stoop, Drew.” He pressed her back against a blank wall. “Ever. Are we clear?”
Some of the anger bled from her expression, leaving behind beautiful, raw vulnerability. Whatever issues she had about her worth were her own. He’d do well remembering that. But he wasn’t above teaching her a lesson.
“Unless by stoop you mean...” He dropped to his knees and pushed her skirt up her thighs.
“Reid! What are you doing? I’m at work.”
“Proving you wrong,” he answered as he slipped her panties off. “Or right, depending on your perspective.”
He hiked the dress up over her hips and buried his face between her legs. She sagged against the wall, her fingers twining in his hair. Soon, her incoherent noises mingled with low moans of pleasure.
She tasted like heaven when she came—the same way she’d tasted last weekend. He’d missed being with her already. That wasn’t normal for him.
He ignored the stray thought and placed another loving kiss on her most precious part before standing to his full height.
She blinked heavy eyes at him as he tugged her dress down, then she frowned as if belatedly realizing an important component of her wardrobe was missing.
“Panties.” She held out a hand.
Pretending to be angry with me? I know better, love.
He thumbed the scrap of black lace and then shoved the garment into his pocket. “I believe I’ll keep these as a souvenir of our time together tonight. Whenever you catch me play-flirting with Christina I want you to remember my lips on, well, your lips, quite frankly.”
Her mouth dropped open into a stunned smile. She liked him slightly crass and under her command. That much he knew.
“And then I want you to remember that I have your underpants in my pocket. That I came to find you, kiss you and drop to my knees at your feet.” He pressed a firm kiss to her mouth. “That, love, is the only time I stoop.”
On that brilliant parting line he left the closet, brushed the dust off the knees of his trousers and walked out to rejoin his pretend date for the evening. He stuffed his hands into his pocket and touched the lace panties he wished he’d gotten a better look at in the dim light of the supply closet.
No matter. That was only a preview of what was to come this evening. Specifically, Drew. As many times as she’d allow him to take her to the edge and over.
Fifteen
Reid was spent.
Through and through, just an absolute goner.
He’d told Gage and Andy he’d take a car home, wished Christina well, and then he’d waited at the bar with a scotch while Drew finished up. She had, in what had seemed like record time, and was gliding over to him in the black dress that rocketed a punch of anticipation straight to his gut. He’d put his arm around her and kissed her temple the moment she was close enough for him to do so, and then he’d put his lips to her ear and whispered, “Missing something?”
Knowing he was referring to her panties, she’d laughed and her cheeks had turned pink, and that’d simply made his night.
Or so he’d thought. What had actually made his night was bringing her to his apartment, sweeping aside her dress and shoes, and taking her to orgasm half a dozen times.
“Doesn’t seem fair that you can have six of them while I only get the one,” he teased. He was still lying flat on his back in bed. She was out of sight, somewhere in his walk-in closet, where she’d disappeared a few minutes ago.
“Six what?” she called from the recesses.
“Orgasms.”
She stepped from his closet wearing one of his navy blue button-down shirts. The tails came to her thighs, and she was fiddling with one of his striped ties, attempting to knot it at her neck.
“I think it’s fair.” She paused in her task to grin, all pearly whites and mischief.
He sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, gesturing for her to come to him. When she was standing between his legs, he finished knotting the tie for her.
“Have an important business meeting to attend?” he joked as he tightened the tie at the collar of the shirt. He liked her this close, her breath dusting his cheek. There was something about Drew that towed him in. Her inherent sweetness, perhaps...
Or her lack of experience.
If he thought too much about that, he’d feel a heap of guilt, so he shoved it aside.
“I like your clothes.” She stepped away and held out her arms to show off her outfit. Navy blue shirt, tie and the shiny black heels she’d worn tonight.
“I like you in my clothes.” He’d been allowed to spend another evening pleasuring this amazing woman. He was a lucky bastard.
She stepped toward him in the exaggerated walk of a model on a runway, before losing her nerve and laughing.
“If you had any idea how sexy you looked doing that, you wouldn’t laugh.”
She shoved the shirtsleeves, which had swallowed her hands, to her elbows.
“You’re good for my ego.” She patted his cheek, and he caught her hand, the words You’re good for me on the tip of his tongue.
He didn’t say them, figuring she’d take them the only way she knew how—to mean more than they actually did.
Though he wouldn’t be lying. Drew was good for him. It was he who wasn’t good for her. She was sweet and open, learning about all life had to offer her, and from what he’d seen tonight, life would continue delivering more to her capable hands.
In the restaurant, she’d been poised and confident, impossible for him not to admire. Even while pretending with Christina, he hadn’t been able to keep from stealing glances at Drew. But he’d seen the girl she used to be beneath that womanly exterior. That bashful, sweet girl who had much more potential than she gave herself credit for.
Reid, on the other hand, was jaded, broken. Not a good prospect for a commitment. As long as she wasn’t with him long-term, she had a chance at having a full and complete relationship with someone else. He’d not rob her of the chance to be more, have more and do more.
Arguably he was taking advantage of her weakness for him to fill a void that had been cavernous since he was a child. It was unfair, but he also believed in Drew’s strength. She’d recover from him in no time at all. He’d see to it.
“Do you miss London?” she asked out of the blue. “
Your family? I’d miss my family if they weren’t a car’s ride away.”
“Sometimes,” he answered honestly. Family wasn’t a topic he liked to discuss with anyone—not even his closest comrades, Gage, Flynn and Sabrina. And he most certainly hadn’t traipsed down Family Lane with any woman in his life. Oddly enough, Drew felt like a safe zone for Reid. Again he thought about how they’d “connected,” and as perplexing as it was for him to admit he felt that way about her, he couldn’t deny it.
“That was the heaviest ‘sometimes’ I ever heard.” She stroked his hair. This time of year was always hard for him. His birthday was around the corner, and there was no way to avoid what came with it. The past. The memories. The sorrow.
“You know, in spite of your rakish reputation, Gage never warned me about you. And I’ll bet he never threatened you to stay away from me, either.”
Reid blinked away the thoughts of his family’s tragedy to focus on Drew. There, in his shirt and tie, looking for all the world like a woman who belonged in his bedroom. Typically, a woman in his bedroom was doing one of two things: asking for more or putting on her clothes to leave. And that was because typically he wouldn’t have lingered in the bedroom. He’d have kissed her lightly and made the excuse that he couldn’t sleep. Then he’d hide behind his laptop at the dining room table until she fell asleep or decided to call it a night.
He hadn’t thought too hard about that before now. He’d seen it as polite; a good way to avoid awkward conversations about family, friends, past or future. But with Drew, he’d lingered. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten dressed.
“You’re correct,” he told her. “Gage never warned me off.”
“Know why?” She loosened the tie. “I was never on your radar. And he never told me to stay away from you because he knew I didn’t stand a chance of winning you. You’ve always been out of my league.”
He caught the length of silk around her neck and pulled her to him, then threw the tie aside and unbuttoned the top two buttons of the shirt she wore.
“To be fair, I never had the chance to see you outside of a family gathering.” He kissed the space between her collarbones. “One normally doesn’t prowl family events in search of a date, you know.”
“Ew. I’m not family.”
“You were eighteen, Drew. You’d just graduated from high school, were ensconced with friends your age and had no interest in me whatsoever.”
She clucked her tongue, which told him he was dead wrong about that.
“And I was an idiot twentysomething who wouldn’t have dreamed of hitting on you lest Gage have my ass. I couldn’t have acted on my attraction if I’d stopped for a second to allow it to form.” He cocked an eyebrow. “How was I to know you’d morph into a foxy siren who knows exactly how to turn me on?”
“Or that I’d avoid any gathering where you’d possibly be present?”
“No.” He frowned, not liking the sound of that.
“Gage and I don’t have a lot of friends in common, so it didn’t come up often. But, yeah, I was sure to tell him to arrive at soft openings with a date and not a friend, just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“Just in case.” She shrugged one shoulder and didn’t give him any more than that.
“Just in case,” he repeated as he unbuttoned another two buttons and parted the shirt. “I saw you and couldn’t contain myself?” Her breasts, large and full, sat on display before him. He sucked one nipple and then the other as she raked her nails into his hair. After a minute of leisurely exploration he wasn’t sure who was enjoying it more.
“Seriously. You are so good at that.” She moaned, the earlier topic forgotten. Which he preferred. He didn’t want to hear her reason for why she hadn’t wanted to bump into him. Given her comment earlier about him “stooping” he could guess it wasn’t a positive one.
He rested his face between her breasts and, his voice muffled, proclaimed, “Anytime.” When he lifted his eyes to hers, she was smiling down at him.
Much better.
She pulled the shirt closed and crawled into bed. Content to stay a while longer with her, he moved to settle in at her side.
“Regardless of what we do or don’t do together, you know you can talk to me, right?” she asked.
“About?” He half expected red emergency lights to flash or a siren’s wail to pierce his eardrums at the inference of “talking.” Definitely, he should climb from bed and beg off to work. Talking was never a good idea, but he didn’t budge.
“Anything.”
“I have nothing to talk about.” He tucked her dark hair behind her ear, loving the silken feel of the strands. “I prefer you as a brunette.”
“And in black lace,” she added.
“Yes. But mostly out of black lace.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, and she shoved against his chest gently.
“I’m a great secret keeper. I never gossip. I don’t share privileged information.”
“Christina knows about us. Not so great, I fear.”
“We weren’t together when I told her. You were part of my past. Completely fair game. How can I be sure you won’t spill the coffee beans to your bros? To my bro, in particular? You and Gage are like this.” She crossed her index and middle fingers to illustrate. “He’ll pry it out of you eventually.”
“I’m a better secret keeper than you, guaranteed.”
She harrumphed.
“I’ve kept a secret from Flynn, Sabrina and Gage since I met them. I’ve never once ‘spilled the coffee beans.’” He grinned at the cute way she switched up the phrase. He’d learned over the course of spending several mornings with her that Drew liked coffee almost as much as he liked her breasts.
And that was saying something.
“I don’t believe you.” She jutted her chin stubbornly.
“Drew. I once swore an oath on my tallywacker that I wouldn’t wed and never broke that pact even though both Flynn and Gage pussed out. Believe me. My word is oak.”
“I’m already trusting you to take the you-and-me secret to your grave.”
Unbeknownst to her, that phrase was apt when it came to the other secret he harbored. A shadow stretched over the room and consumed him with dark thoughts.
“You can tell me what happened, Reid.” She played with the wavy hair atop his head. “Be brave and tell me about the girl back home who broke your heart.”
He met her seeking gaze. A decade was too long to harbor a secret from friends. He’d sworn years ago that he’d tell them eventually, but the timing was always wrong. When was the best time to bring up tragedy? He still didn’t know when he’d tell Gage, Flynn or Sabrina, but his gut told him now was the exact right time to talk about Wesley with Drew.
“You’re completely wrong,” Reid told her, his eyes losing focus as his gaze slid away. “It wasn’t a girl back home who broke my heart. It was my twin brother.”
Sixteen
“Twin brother?” Drew had no idea he had a twin brother. “Are you two estranged?”
“He died. We came to believe.”
Her heart sank to her toes. She didn’t understand what he’d meant by that, but he seemed ready to talk about it, so she was here for him. She rested a hand on his chest in silent support.
“He disappeared during our birthday party.” Reid shoved a pillow under his neck. His gaze was on the ceiling, but she didn’t move into his frame of vision. She sensed this wasn’t a story he told often. He’d probably appreciate her presence more than her sympathy.
She waited for him to continue, idly stroking her fingers through his chest hair and watching her own hand rather than staring at him. Eventually, he must’ve felt comfortable, because he spoke again and didn’t stop for a long while.
“It was a hot afternoon. I don’t know how, at three years old, I remember that. But I do. M
um and Dad planned a massive circus-themed birthday party. It was packed with face-painting clowns, jugglers, a petting zoo. Mum had insisted on a huge inflatable castle packed with plastic balls. When I could get her to talk about the day, she’d tell me how she’d fought for that inflatable with Dad for a week solid before he’d given in. He’d thought it a monstrosity.”
Reid smiled at the memory, and even though it was sad at the edges, it transformed his handsome face. He looked at once older and younger.
“Within a half hour of the festivities and among legions of neighborhood friends, my twin brother, Wesley, went missing.” Reid sucked in a breath, but it barely lifted her hand where it rested on his chest. As if the oxygen hadn’t quite reached his lungs. “Dad dived into the in-ground pool to look for him there, just in case Wes had fallen in. I don’t remember that part. But he told me that he’d had a vision of Wes at the bottom of that cement box, blue in the face. When he came up out of the water to an expectant crowd of onlookers, he shook his head and they dispersed.
“The search party blanketed the yard, the surrounding neighborhood and the patch of woods beyond the house. It wasn’t a large area to canvass, but everyone came up empty-handed. Police took over the search at nightfall, blanketing an even bigger swath of land. They’d interviewed the clowns and the jugglers, the animal handlers. None of them had any idea where Wes was. No one saw him wander off.”
Reid paused to swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if pushing past a lump of dread. Drew’s stomach turned in anticipation of the story that wouldn’t end well.
“Five years later—”
“Oh my God,” she couldn’t keep from whispering.
“—my folks decided to have a funeral. Trying to find Wesley had become their life. They’d gone on television to share the story, had been interviewed by papers and had covered the surrounding towns and villages in posters with Wesley’s photo on them. My mother was a functioning alcoholic by then, having turned to the bottle when the grief became too much. My father was simply exhausted. He’d told me he’d never felt so impotent in his life not being able to protect his family.
One Night, White Lies Page 9