15. Petra

Chapter fifteen

Petra

Reed sets off sparks in all the best places, and I’m still trembling when we reach the bed. “Reed, that lift was swoon worthy, but can you get me a towel?”

Reed chuckles and sets me down. “I wanted to dry you off with my mouth.”

“Oh. Was that a term of the agreement?” I can’t remember. My brain is still giddy and jumbled. I was desperate for an orgasm and would have agreed to anything.

“Gray area.” His dimple deepens, smug and amused. “You told me to shut up and get you off.”

“I did?” I laugh alongside him. I don’t know if it’s Reed or the orgasm, but I’m relaxed. Carefree. “You’re soaked! I’m cold just looking at you.”

Reed whips off his shirt as he walks away, and the wet splatter of it against the bathroom floor echoes while he produces a towel for each of us. I clutch it, stock-still, as Reed pulls off the rest of his clothes.

“Reed!” I squeak.

“It’s fair, since I’ve seen you naked.” He pulls out a pair of sweatpants as I swallow the overwhelming urge to lick my way down his spine. He was attractive before, but his clothes hid the gorgeous, stocky build he has underneath.

“Do you play rugby?” I wonder as I drink him in.

“I did, just on a rec team, until a few years ago,” he says with a laugh, and doesn’t bother with a shirt. “How’d you guess?”

I can’t exactly admit to my social media feeding me videos of juicy rugby players. “Do you miss it?”

“Nice deflection, rubber girl.” I’ve been too busy staring at his ass to dry myself off, and he notices, judging by the smirk climbing up one side of his face. God, that dimple. “Enjoy what you see, baby?”

Chagrined, I laugh at myself while he wraps me in a towel and pulls me into his arms.

“Are you happy?” he asks, cupping my warm face. “Or having another nervous giggle fit?”

My face flames further. “Both. I haven’t done this in a while. Don’t expect experience or confidence from me, okay?”

He pulls back to search my face. “What are you talking about?”

“Your blow job.”

He frowns. “That wasn’t the bargain. I want my hands on you a second time.”

Jesus. Who needs a heater with this man around? But his hard length against my hip is impossible to ignore. “I thought you’d need—”

“What I need isn’t your responsibility to handle, especially if you’re stressed about it.” My bruised ego must show on my face, because his voice softens. “You let me in, Pet. You let me see you, touch you, and that was a leap forward. I meant it when I said I’m not trying to sleep with you. Am I open to it? Abso-fucking-lutely. But I don’t want it if you’re apprehensive.”

His words make sense, but the rejection stings. “I want to repay you.”

“I appreciate that.” Reed rubs my back over the towel. “But sex isn’t a transaction—at least, you’re a great reminder that it shouldn’t be. I don’t want you to be hesitant to try something because you’re expected to reciprocate.”

It’s the opposite of what all prior sexual encounters required of me. My family and church youth groups refused to talk about sex, except that it was forbidden outside of marriage. It left me unprepared for the pressures of relationships. Teenage boys, college guys: both had wild appetites that I’d been ill-equipped to deny.

Reed tugs me firmly against his chest. “You have power here. Everything is your choice.” I’m still wet, dripping water down his bare chest, but he doesn’t complain. His skin on my skin calms my nerves.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“No, I’m sorry. If I pushed too hard—”

“You didn’t. I wouldn’t take it back for anything.” I place a tender kiss on his jaw. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure was yours and mine,” he teases. He swipes his thumb across my cheek, and a flash of black near his inner elbow catches my attention. His tattoo is a rectangular, grayscale painting that extends halfway to his wrist—a mountain range lined with trees under a crescent moon and stars.

“What’s this?”

Reed stiffens until he could rival a statue. “It’s nothing.”

I brush my fingers over the ink, marveling at the texture. I expected bumps, but it’s only soft, smooth skin. “You don’t have to tell me. I understand tattoos can be private and personal.”

“They should be.” He lets out a shaky breath. “It’s a rough story, but the tattoo artist mostly chose it for me. The darkest hour before dawn.”

I can relate. “At least you have hope.” He snorts bitterly, and the sound is unlike him. “The stars? Points of light in the dark, helping you guide your way until dawn? Maybe I’m way off base.” I pull back, but Reed grabs my hand and holds my palm over the scene. His eyes shut tight, as if my touch hurts.

“Don’t let go. Give me a minute.”

Oh shit. This tattoo definitely isn’t nothing. “I won’t let go.” It’s unmistakable that this playful, teasing, frustrating, beautiful man has been hurt by something enormous. I trace my thumb over the ink. “Everyone deserves hope, Reed.”

Reed cups my jaw in his hands. “Including you. Your life isn’t over because some asshole hurt you. ”

“He isn’t what hurt me, not really,” I admit. Somehow, Reed snuck past all my walls. I shut my mouth tight, unprepared to give him more. Reed doesn’t push. His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, and the ache inside me begins anew.

“Will you stay? Just for the company?” he asks.

“My parents—”

“Know you’re a grown adult.” He’s got me there, but—despite contrary evidence—I’m positive Papa pretends I’m a virgin.

But one night with Reed has made me greedy for another. I break away to kiss his tattoo, and Reed presses his hand over it. An irrational part of me imagines he’s pushing my kiss under his skin. “I’ll stay.”

His hands slip over my shoulders, down my sides. One orgasm and he’s touching me as though we’ve been lovers for ages. “Want to sleep naked or borrow something?” he asks. “I’m in favor of one, but your choice.”

I should be sated, but my breasts don’t get the memo. They tighten into hard points that I’m sure he notices. I rest my forehead against his shoulder, blushing. “We’ll compromise.”

“We will?”

I nod, stepping away to dry off. “When you’re done watching the show, can you bring me a shirt and my purse?”

“It might be a while.” He smirks, and has to duck when I chuck my towel at him in response. Reed takes it with him while he fetches my bag. When he brings it and a clean shirt, his blazing eyes travel the length of me, and I forget to be nervous. In a moment of bold confidence, I hold his gaze and slip his shirt over my head. It smells amazing, and Reed lifts my hair out from under the collar before I can.

“You wearing my clothes is so sexy.” He tips my chin up with a finger to brush a kiss to my cheek. “What’s with the purse?”

I pull the underwear from a zippered pocket and slip them on. “Livi was hoping something much saucier was going to happen. ”

His smile is dangerous. “It doesn’t get much saucier than that bath. How are you feeling? You should drink water, Pet. I’ll get ice—”

“I’ll go.” I search through my purse for my coin bag. “I saw a vending machine down the hall and I’d kill for chocolate. Want anything?”

Reed shakes his head. “I don’t want you to get dressed again. Compromise?” he asks, pulling a bathrobe from the closet. At my nod, he wraps it around me and ties the sash.

“You don’t want anything? I’ve got a million quarters.”

“Surprise me,” he challenges.

I give into my earlier urge and lick a stripe across his pec, punctuating it with a gentle bite. “Surprised?”

He reaches for me, but I run for the door. I snatch up my purse and the ice bucket while he laughs loudly and lets me escape. In the hall, I lean back against the closed door and let my smile out, ear to ear. I’d forgotten what it was like to have wings.

It’s magical.

The ice and vending machines are on opposite ends of the hall, so I spend twice as long walking around indecently. I bite my lip, debating my candy selection, but mentally, I’m still half in Reed’s bath. The things he said were proof that reality can exceed fantasy. And he only had his hands on me for a few minutes. Nothing else might ever measure up.

Countless quarters later, I head back to the room where Reed opens the door at my knock. He’s bright-cheeked, pupils huge. Did he get himself off? It makes total sense that he’d need to relieve the pressure, but I’m strangely rattled by it—and turned on. My brain moves at warp speed as I picture him stroking his cock. What did he imagine? How does he like to be touched?

“Petra? You okay?”

“Fine!” I chirp, holding my terrible giggles at bay. They come out at the worst moments. “I’ve got ice and chocolate, and I’m willing to share both. ”

Reed produces two glasses for us and we lean against the counter together. I pass Reed a stick from my chocolate bar, and we both smile. Tonight was impulsive, reckless, and utterly unlike me. And amazing.

The second I pop the last bite in my mouth, Reed scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom. “C’mon, let’s get warm.” Reed throws the robe onto a nearby chair and we climb under the covers together.

He’s shirtless, and the sprinkling of hair all over him is intoxicating as I coil into him. He’s not the only one with hair, and I’m mortified when he runs his hands over my upper thighs. “I wasn’t planning on a date tonight,” I confess. “Much less getting naked with someone.”

He laughs and strokes my legs. “It’s soft. A little bit of fur for someone as lovely and skittish as a deer.”

“That’s so much worse,” I groan. But it isn’t, because no matter how on edge Reed puts me, he’s also the net at the bottom of the cliff.

Reed smiles as he cups my cheek. “Pet, you’re glowing.”

I flush further under his attention. “You’re not supposed to point out when someone is glowy,” I chide. He laughs and pulls me closer.

We talk for hours about nothing while our hands trace patterns over skin and fingers tangle in hair: our childhoods, our favorite shows, things our mothers do to drive us nuts.

“My mom calls me Petronia almost exclusively,” I complain, “and she tries to use my dad against me until I do whatever she wants.”

“I get that. My mom gave me an hour-long guilt trip over Skype one Christmas. She set her tablet on the sofa and kept saying ‘Oh, Reed would love that if he were here.’ But she refused to actually talk to me.”

“That’s awful!”

He shrugs. “It was mostly funny. A way to get me out of a bad mood and help me feel included. If I hung up, she called me right back.”

With each word, we grow closer. Occasionally, I think Reed might kiss me, but he doesn’t. His lips sizzle against my neck, shoulders, and wrists.

I’m too tired to fight sleep this time. When the dawn comes, it does so quietly, with Reed and I tangled together beneath the sheets.