“I’m not playing.” My lips felt swollen as I brought my mouth back to his and rubbed him through his pants. When he didn’t stop me, I quickly pulled down the zipper and eased the hot, pulsing length out from his boxers.
Reece leaned back, his gaze gliding down to where I held him in my hand. His voice was like smoke when he spoke. “This isn’t what you need right now.”
“Yes it is.” I rested my forehead against his. “This is what I want right now.”
“Roxy,” he said my name like it was a curse and a prayer.
I dragged my hand up his length, running my thumb over the head of his cock. “Touch me,” I implored, begged. “Please. Reece, touch me.”
He made that sound that drove me crazy, the deep growl that was so raw and masculine it curled my toes and caused the muscles low in my belly to tighten. Then he lifted one of his hands. Finally. He tugged the front of my cami down and then tugged the cups of my bra aside, baring my breasts.
Reece touched me.
He did more than just touch me. His hands were greedy and so were his kisses. We were flushed and panting as I worked him to the point he pulled my hand away and all but tore my panties off. There was no more waiting. On my knees, I lowered myself on him, skin against skin. I cried out at the feeling, at how he stretched me, and how I burned around his length, and how I was scorched every place he touched and kissed me.
Letting me set the rhythm, Reece gave me complete control as I moved over him, rising and lowering myself slowly at first and then more frantically as my muscles contracted around him. As the pleasure built, spun tighter and tighter, and the release I sought began to whip out through me, he moved then, taking over. Gripping my hip with one hand and the back of my head with the other, his hips powered up, thrusting into me, setting me off. The release was so powerful, so explosive it was almost painful, almost too much. I wasn’t sure I could take it, but I didn’t want to escape. Not when I felt him start to lose control, when he grunted my name in my ear. I knew he was close. His hold on my hip tightened, and he started to lift me off him. I didn’t want him to pull out. This . . . this was going to be our last time, and I wanted to feel him so very alive inside me. I trusted him, and I hadn’t missed any more of the pills.
I bore down on him, holding him just as tightly as he held me, and he knew what I wanted, because I felt him start to shake.
“Roxy,” he growled my name, his large body stilling against mine as his arms surrounded me in a powerful embrace.
It took a while to move after that. I could feel his heart pounding just as fiercely as mine, and I felt each flex of his body throughout every cell in me. Neither of us spoke as I rested in his lap. We . . . we just held each other quietly, in a silence that was filled with a thousand unspoken words. It was only when we were no longer joined that I knew it was time.
“I need to clean up.” My voice sounded strange to me. Too low. Too empty.
He eased his arms away from me, and I climbed off, snatching my panties off the floor. Our gazes met briefly, and I tried to ignore the question in them as I fixed my bra and top. Then I turned, hurrying into his bathroom. I didn’t take long, because I knew that if I delayed this, I wouldn’t leave. After cleaning myself up, I pulled on my undies.
I needed to leave, right? I couldn’t stay here and I couldn’t be with him, because I’d . . .
I already loved him.
I’d been in love with him for so long.
The burn rekindled in the center of my chest. I backed away from the door, struggling to clear my thoughts, but there was so much sparking back and forth. The backs of my legs hit the tub and I sat down. The undies were no protection against the cold ceramic.
What was I doing?
I was running. I was scared. Nothing he said was truly new to me. Fuck, I knew a lot of it already, but hearing it come from him shattered walls I didn’t even know I had erected around myself.
“Roxy?” Reece’s deep voice shook me.
My eyes glued to the door, I tried to take a deep breath, but it went nowhere. The pressure was back, and it was too much.
“Are you okay?” he demanded.
My lower lip trembled as I balled my hands into fists. Walking away from Reece wasn’t strength. This was me being weak, me doing what I always did when it came to fucking everything. But it wasn’t just born out of fear. Oh no, it ran deeper than that.
The bathroom door swung open and Reece’s body filled it. His shirt was askew and he hadn’t fastened the top button on his pants. He took one look at me, and everything I’d been thinking must’ve been written on my face. His expression softened as he stared at me.
Emotion crawled up my throat. “It’s my . . . it’s my fault.”
Reece stepped into the bathroom slowly, as if he was afraid of startling me. “What’s your fault, baby?”
“What happened to Charlie.” My voice cracked. I fissured straight down the middle.
His brows knitted as he knelt in front of me, keeping his hands on his thighs. “Honey, what happened to him is not your fault.”
“Yes it is,” I whispered, because saying it too loudly was too much. “You don’t understand. You weren’t there. I antagonized the situation.”
His eyes widened. “Roxy—”
“He was hitting on me. Henry was.”
“You did nothing wrong, Roxy.” Anger flooded Reece’s face, mixing with sadness. “You’re allowed to tell a guy no, you’re not interested, and not be worried about retaliation. It’s not your fault.”
I shook my head. “He always hit on me, and I could deal with that, but he insulted Charlie. He called him a homo.” I started trembling as I wrapped my arms around my waist. “I started yelling at Henry. Then he called Charlie worse names. Charlie kept asking me to just leave it alone, but I couldn’t, because I knew how much that bothered him. He hated that kind of stuff, and it hurt him. Henry then asked if I was a ‘dyke’ and if that was why I hung out with a ‘faggot’ all the time. I lost it. I pushed Henry. Like I pushed you.” I bent over, staring at my toes as the night replayed itself in vivid detail. “Charlie had grabbed me and we were walking away. So was Henry. Then I . . . I turned around and said . . . I told him to go fuck himself because that was the only way white trash like him would get any action.”
Reece closed his eyes.
“That’s when he picked up the rock and threw it.” I rocked slowly, shaking my head. “If I had just kept my mouth shut, we all would’ve walked away and everything would’ve been different. I am scared. You’re right about that. I’m so scared of losing you and feeling that kind of pain again, but it’s more than that. Why do I deserve to get to do whatever I want when Charlie never will? I ran my mouth. I took the situation to the next level. Haven’t they put people in jail for that kind of thing? Accessory to assault—to murder? Why do I deserve you? Why do I deserve to do what I love for the rest of my life?”
When Reece opened his eyes, they weren’t full of censure or judgment, just so much pain. “Words,” he said quietly. “You threw out some words. Just like Henry did. And you know that words can do a lot of damage. I’m not saying they don’t. Sometimes they can cut deeper than a knife, but you did not pick up that rock. You did not throw it. Henry made that decision. It’s one that he seems like he regrets more than anything and I doubt he ever truly thought he’d hurt Charlie the way he did, but he can’t change that. And you can’t change what you said, but Roxy . . .” He dropped down on his knees in front of me and slowly, carefully, cradled my face in his hands. “What happened to Charlie was not your fault. You did not hurt him. Henry did. And I know it’s going to take more than just my words for you to really accept that, but I’m going to be here for you every day to remind you that you so deserve every fucking thing this life has to offer.”
My voice hitched on a sob. The backs of my eyes burned. His face blurred a
nd my cheeks were damp.
“Remember everything I said in the bedroom? I’m scared, too. And there are times I question what I deserve, but we’re in this together. So fall with me,” he said, smoothing his thumbs along my cheekbones. “Let yourself go and fall with me, and baby, I will catch you. I will get you through this. You just got to take that risk.”
I broke then, split wide open. I cried the deep, ugly kind of tears that no one looked good doing. Those tears came and they were for all that Charlie had lost. They were for Reece and everything he had to do. They were even for Henry, because a tiny part of me had woken up in that moment, had opened my eyes, and realized that Henry . . . he’d thrown his life away when he threw that rock and that sucked too, because maybe Reece was right. Maybe he never meant to do that. I cried because I was no longer numb. I hurt. I was afraid. I’d started the process of losing my best friend six years ago, and I hadn’t even begun to let go of any of that pain or hate and all the other toxic emotions.
I didn’t even remember sliding off the rim of the tub and into Reece’s arms, but like he had promised, he was there to catch me when I fell apart.
Chapter 24
“My head hurts.”
Reece’s fingers sifted through my hair, gently massaging my scalp. “The ibuprofen will kick in soon.”
It felt like it was taking forever. My temples throbbed, as did the somewhat useless space behind my eyes. There was a good chance that I’d cried myself into a brain meltdown. Once I had started crying, it was like a levy had broken inside me. I had no idea how long we stayed in the bathroom, Reece planted on his ass and me in his arms, soaking his dress shirt. I’d only been vaguely aware of him picking me up and carrying me to his bed. He’d held me for hours, only leaving me not too long ago to grab some water and ibuprofen. He’d removed his shirt then and changed into a pair of nylon running pants before climbing back in bed. I was still in my cami and undies, and there was absolutely nothing sexy about that right now.
I was sprawled across his chest like one of those marionette dolls. My cheek rested above his heart and his legs cradled my thigh as he kept his fingers moving against my scalp. Night had fallen hours ago and while neither of us had eaten a thing since that morning, I think both of us were too exhausted to get out of bed and scrounge up something to eat.
“I’m sorry I cried all over you,” I said.
“That’s what I’m here for. I’m your personal tissue. Among other, more fun things, but I’m multipurpose.”
I cracked a grin as I stared into nothing. “I like those more fun things.”
“I know.”
Curling my fingers against his taut stomach, I drew in a breath and was surprised that it felt steady and didn’t hurt. It would be a long time before I fully accepted my role in Charlie’s fate. Maybe I would never absolve myself of guilt completely, but I wanted to try. I really, honestly, wanted to try for the first time.
“Can I tell you something?” Reece asked.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I’m going to hold you to that statement in the future,” he said dryly. “I don’t like to ever say good-bye.”
My brows knitted. “I . . . I remember you saying that once.”
“I did. I told you we never say good-bye. We kiss instead. Hell, we can say anything to each other, but not good-bye.”
“Why?” I whispered, but I thought I already had a good idea to why.
There was a pause. “It’s too permanent, especially in my line of work, the last thing I ever want you to hear from me is good-bye. And that sure as hell will never be the last thing I say to you.”
I shivered as I thought about one day facing a phone call or a knock on the door from—I pushed those thoughts out of my head. That wasn’t trying to take a risk. I would not, could not allow myself to think about the possibility of him not coming home one day.
“There’s something I want you to know, Roxy. I’m a stubborn motherfucker. You know that. I’m not going to disappear on you without one hell of a fight. I can promise you that.”
My eyes burned, and I thought there was a good chance I might start crying again.
With my head somewhat clear, a huge part of me now recognized how . . . how weak it was to keep someone away from you just because you might lose them one day. How silly it was. But there was still a little piece of me that wanted to retreat and not take that risk. I just couldn’t give in to that fear.
“Do you think I’m crazy now?” I asked in a quiet voice.
He chuckled and I liked how the sound rumbled under my cheek. “Babe, I’ve always thought you were a little crazy. That’s what I love about you.”
Hearing him say that now, when my head was sort of screwed on right, stole my breath. “Can you say that again?”
He slipped his hand down my jaw and tilted my head back. Our eyes met, and his chest rose deeply. “I saw them,” he said.
I frowned. “Saw what?”
He took a deep breath as he eyed me. “The paintings.”
For a moment, I didn’t get where he was going with this. Not when he traced the curve of my cheek with his thumb and not when a soft smile curved his lips. And then it hit me.
“The paintings?” I swallowed and started to sit up, but he didn’t let me get very far. “The paintings at my place?” When he nodded, I felt my face heat like I was out under the summer sun. “The ones that are . . . ?”
“Of me?” he supplied.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my God. Seriously?”
“Yes.”
Mortified, I didn’t know what to say. “They were in my closet. Why were you in my closet?”
“Looking for a psycho stalker,” he answered.
My eyes popped opened. “That . . . that was like two weeks ago! You saw them back then and didn’t say anything.”
Reece sat up, bringing me with him. Somehow my body ended up between his legs and we were face-to-face. “I didn’t say anything, because I figured you’d respond this way.”
“Of course I’d respond this way! It’s embarrassing. You probably think I’m some kind of freak. A stalker—a creepy stalker who paints pictures of you when you’re not around.”
“I don’t think you’re a stalker, babe.” His voice was dry.
I screwed up my face. “I can’t believe you saw them.”
He chuckled, and my eyes narrowed on him. “Honestly? I really didn’t know how you truly felt about me until I saw them.”
My brows flew up. “I thought you were all-knowing.”
Reece smirked. “I had my suspicions that you were in love with me from the first time you laid eyes
on me.”
“Oh dear baby Jesus in a manger,” I muttered.
“But I don’t think I was a hundred percent until I saw those paintings, especially the one of me in the kitchen. You painted that after . . . after I left.” His brows lowered as he gave a little shake of his head. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I think it’s sweet.”
I still thought it was a little creepy.
“But you know what’s important? The first thing I thought when I saw them is how much talent you have. It was like looking in the mirror.”
That went a little way to making me feel better about this.
“I wish you’d put your focus there, babe. You have something real.”
Leaning against him, I blew out a soft breath. My mind was churning over a lot today, I wasn’t sure I was ready to look too closely at the whole college thing. “Getting a degree couldn’t hurt.”
“You’re right.” He smoothed his hand up my arm. “It’s smart. Just like doing what you love, no matter what it is, is right.”
I smiled as I thought about that. “I really do love working at Mona’s.”
“And like I said before, there isn’t a da
mn thing wrong about that.”
Reece was right. Jax was happy as a monkey with a banana owning and working at Mona’s. So was Nick. Well, I guessed Nick was happy. I never really asked him and he sure as heck never volunteered the info.
“You think you can eat something?” he asked, and when I nodded, he smacked my behind. “Come on, let’s get some cheese and crackers.”
I climbed out of bed and was out into the hallway when Reece caught me around the waist and spun me around. He pulled me to his chest as he cupped my cheek with one hand, tilting my head back.
“I love you, Roxy.” He dipped his head, kissing me softly, and I suddenly understood the emotion behind those sweet, tender kisses. It was that four-letter word. Love. “You wanted to hear me say it again. I’m going to say it so much that you get tired of hearing it.”
Smiling against his lips, I placed my hands on his chest, inhaling deeply and catching the faint scent of his cologne. “I don’t think I can ever get tired of hearing that.”
The next couple of days were a blur for a different reason. I wasn’t numb anymore, which meant when I woke up Friday morning, I had another crying fit, because I realized I wouldn’t be seeing Charlie on Friday like I had for the last six years. That was hard, and I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if Reece hadn’t been there. Not only had he let me have my tear fest, when I finally stopped crying, he hadn’t treated me like something was wrong with me or like he was over the emotional outbursts.
Reece had simply ordered Chinese and we ate a late lunch, spending the entire day on the couch, watching really bad zombie movies. That carried into Saturday and then I had another crying jag, because I was so frustrated with myself, with how I’d tried to push Reece away and how Charlie would’ve smacked me upside the head if he was around and knew that, and how I wasn’t being strong enough to just . . . to just fucking let it all go.
It was Sunday, as I sat on the bed, while he—in all his shirtless and pajama-bottom-wearing glory—fiddled with his duty belt and attached the numerous things on his uniform, that I told him what I planned to do tomorrow.