Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
My back arches. My fingers claw into his shoulders.
The stretch is exquisite. Full. Right.
He groans low in his throat, like being inside of me is everything.
And then he starts to move.
Slow at first. Measured. He rocks into me with long, deep strokes that make me forget my name. I meet every thrust, hips tilting to draw him in deeper, chasing the friction, the connection, the heat.
He braces himself on one arm and slips the other hand between us again, his thumb circling exactly where I need it. I gasp, arching beneath him, the pressure building impossibly fast.
My fingers tangle in his hair. My lips drag across his jaw, his neck, whatever I can reach.
It’s too much. Not enough. Everything at once.
The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave—fast and unstoppable. I cry out his name as my whole body clenches around him, stars exploding behind my eyes. Reid curses low and buries his face in my neck, thrusting hard once, twice more before he groans and shudders, hips stuttering as he follows me over the edge.
We stay connected like that for a long moment—his body heavy over mine, my legs still locked around his waist, both of us panting, stunned.
Eventually, he lowers himself gently to my side, shifting so I’m half on his chest, his arm wrapping around me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe it is.
We lie there for a moment, tangled and breathless, the air heavy with everything we just did. “I’ll be right back,” he says, giving me a kiss to the forehead before he exits the bed.
“Let me get rid of the condom.”
He’s quick about it, sliding back in next to me. I rest my cheek on Reid’s chest, the rise and fall of his breathing steady beneath my ear. My fingers trace idle shapes over the smooth skin of his ribs, and I can still feel him everywhere—his hands, his mouth, the quiet way he looked at me like I was something sacred.
It should be complicated.
But it isn’t.
Not yet.
He brushes his hand slowly up and down my spine, not saying anything, just keeping me anchored. And for a moment, I think maybe we don’t have to talk. Maybe we can just let it be what it is.
But I can’t sit with silence forever. Not after something like that.
“Do you ever think about that night?” I ask quietly. “The summer after uni. When we…”
Reid doesn’t answer right away. His chest rises on a deep breath, and his hand pauses at the small of my back.
“Yeah,” he says. “More than I’d like to admit.”
I tilt my head to look up at him. “Why more than you should?”
His eyes find mine. There’s no defensiveness there. Just honesty.
“I was scared,” he admits. “Of messing it up. Of dragging you into something while I was still trying to prove myself in racing. I didn’t want to be that guy—half in, half out. You deserved more than that, Lara, and I wasn’t the guy for you.”
I study him, the shape of his face, the quiet strength in his voice.
“And now?” I ask, softer this time.
He shifts slightly, turning so we’re face-to-face on the pillow. “Now I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of how fast this is happening. Of what it might cost you.”
That lands deep.
Because I’m scared too.
Not of him. Never of him.
But of what the world will say. Of what our families will think. Of what happens when Lance finds out.
“I don’t want to be ashamed of this,” I whisper. “But I also don’t know how to explain it to anyone else. It’s too soon. Too… raw.”
His fingers thread through mine under the covers. “Then we don’t. We keep this between us. Just for now.”
“You’re okay with that?”
“I’m okay with whatever gives you a sense of safety.”
That single sentence breaks something open in me. Not with pain—but relief.
I nod slowly, biting my lip. “Thank you.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead, and I close my eyes for a moment, sinking into the calm he gives me.
But then another thought crawls forward.
“I’m not using you,” I say. “I know it might look that way—like I ran from one man to another. But that’s not what this is.”
“I know it’s not,” Reid says instantly. “You came to me for help, not for this. What happened between us tonight wasn’t about Lance. It wasn’t about escaping. It was about us and what has always been between us.”
My throat tightens, and I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m still sorting myself out. I don’t know who I am outside of all this yet.”
He shifts beside me, then reaches over and links our fingers again. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. I’m not going anywhere. There’s no timeline.”
We fall into silence again, but this one is warmer. Easier.