It had been forever since I’d had sex, and Reed was thick and long. My body squeezed him like a glove. I smiled. “You feel . . . big.”
Reed smiled back. The sight was breathtaking. Him inside of me, and for one moment in time, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.
His hands slid down to cup my ass and he lifted to adjust us. The small tilt of my hips allowed him to sink in even deeper. His smile faded into deep concentration. “Fuck.”
I whimpered when he reached down and began to rub my clit with two fingers. Neither of us was going to last long. My body tingled, and my legs began to shake. Reed began to thrust harder and harder. “I want to fill you. Pump my cum so deep that you’ll always have a piece of me inside you.”
God. So dirty, yet at the same time, so beautiful.
I moaned his name as my orgasm took hold. My nails dug into his back, my body began to shudder and jerk, and I lost any awareness of the world around me. We were in a tunnel, just the two of us, secluded from the rest of the world. Reed looked into my eyes and allowed himself to give so much more than his body. We were connected on a level that I’d never experienced before; our minds, bodies, and spirits were in perfect harmony.
When my body began to go slack, Reed stopped holding back. He pumped into me harder and harder until his body went rigid as his hot climax filled me.
Simply spectacular. Better than fireworks on the Fourth of July.
He kept moving in and out for a long time afterward, kissing me and telling me over and over how beautiful I was. Feeling spineless, I held on for dear life as I caught my breath. Reed kissed my neck, my collarbone, my cheeks—even my eyelids. The moment felt so intimate, as if we lived in a little bubble protected from the outside world.
Eventually, though, he pulled out and set me down on my feet. He brushed his lips to mine. “Thank you for tonight, Charlotte.”
It was a seemingly innocuous thing to say—sweet, even. Yet it burst that little bubble wide-open. Reed was thanking me for tonight, because things wouldn’t be the same tomorrow.CHAPTER 33
REED
What the fuck did I do?
I didn’t want to regret what had just happened. Regretting it would mean it was a mistake, that we’d done something wrong. And what happened between Charlotte and me . . . felt the opposite of wrong. Nothing had felt that right in longer than I could remember. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t stupid.
One night.
Charlotte was not a one-night type of woman, and even though that’s what we’d said, I’d only be hurting her more in the end. Now that the blood had left my engorged cock and returned to my brain, I was painfully aware of that.
For the last nine nights, since the first night I’d held her until she’d fallen asleep, I’d made a point of going to bed after Charlotte. No matter how exhausted I’d been, I’d waited until she was out cold and then pretended to fall asleep on the couch. It was the least I could do to keep the small distance between us. But picking up my laptop and pretending to work after what we’d just done felt like a shitty thing to do. Awkwardness hit after we both finished changing for bed.
Stalling, I took a towel to my wet head as Charlotte climbed into one of the two queens in the bedroom. When I started rummaging through my suitcase to buy more time, she sighed loudly.
“Are you going to take all your clothes out and refold them in order to avoid coming to bed with me?”
Of course, she knew.
I chuckled and grabbed a T-shirt before going to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I don’t know where I should sleep.”
She grinned. “You don’t say . . .”
“Wiseass.”
“Get into bed, Reed.” She pulled back the covers. “And in case there’s any doubt . . . I mean this one.”
There was actually no place else that I would rather have been in the world. And screw it—one night was more than an hour in the bathroom. She didn’t have to ask a second time. I walked over to the light switch and flicked it off before joining her in bed. Positioning ourselves felt as natural as touching her always did. I lay on my back, and Charlotte snuggled into the crook of my shoulder. My arm wrapped around her, and my hand stroked the top of her hair.
After a few minutes she said, “Do you believe in God, Reed?”
For months after my diagnosis, I’d contemplated that exact question. I wasn’t sure I did. But then I’d realized I was afraid to not believe, which meant that I actually did believe there was something to be afraid of.