He slid two fingers inside her throbbing channel and kept a thumb against her hot button, working her with swift confidence. Thunder rumbled in the sky, matching the lightning flashing through her veins. She squirmed against the car, but he gave her no reprieve. One hand remained splayed over her navel, the other against her pussy. No time to think or worry, just feel. Within seconds, every nerve in her body coiled into a tense, yearning mass, bringing her focus to that single, unbearably beautiful ache in her core—that exquisite moment right before release.
“Let go, love. Let it all go.”
On his command, her body tipped over the edge of control, ripping a primal groan from her chest. Her body clamped down on his fingers, and her pelvis arched against his hand. “Oh, God. Reid!”
“That’s right, baby. I’m right here.”
His words both soothed and heightened her senses as she crested the wave of orgasm, his skillful touch wringing out every ounce of pleasure as the rain continued to pound against her.
When the contractions finally quieted, he eased his fingers from her and draped his chest over her form, shielding her from the now full-fledged thunderstorm. He laid a soft kiss against her brow. “Good night, sugar.”
Her languid muscles stiffened beneath him. “Where are you going? I thought we—”
“This is as far as I’m taking you tonight. I won’t go any further until you tell me what you want. Who you want.”
His clear blue eyes stared into hers, and she knew he wasn’t asking what and who she wanted in this moment. But for every moment. Her voice came out in a choked whisper. “Reid.”
“Shh,” he said, standing up and easing her to her feet. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
Rivulets of water dripped off his jawline, and his black T-shirt clung to every line of muscle as he helped her set her dress to rights. Unable to resist touching him, she pushed the wet hair off his forehead. “You’re soaked.”
A hint of a smile played around the corner of his mouth, and he nodded at her saturated dress. “Said the pot to the kettle.”
She grabbed the remaining strap of her dress and slid it over her shoulder. “You’re not so good at giving up, are you?”
“I told you a long time ago it takes me a while to get a point.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and cocked his head toward the club. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you to dry land.”
She stepped to his side and offered him her hand. Without a word, he threaded his fingers with hers and they walked back to the club, only the sound of the pattering rain between them.
TWENTY-FIVE
now
All weekend. No phone call. No visit. And then today, she’d called in sick for work.
He’d blown it.
Reid slammed his shower door shut with his foot, then kicked it for final measure. “Fuck.”
He’d thought he’d broken through, thought he’d reminded Brynn how good they were together. But apparently his take-no-prisoners seduction had backfired. He’d given her the full face of his dominance, taken away her safe word option, tried to show her that what they had was stronger than the darkness Davis left behind. But apparently it wasn’t enough.
He scrubbed the towel through his damp hair, and then wrapped it around his waist. Maybe he had pushed too hard. Maybe he should’ve taken the slow and gentle approach, shown her that he was capable of being just as tender with her as he was tough.
He reached for a fresh bandage for his shoulder and all of his supplies toppled off the edge of the sink and onto the floor. He let another string of choice words fly as the bottle of rubbing alcohol landed on its side and sent the strong-smelling liquid flooding over his tile.
Was everything going to fight him? With a sigh, he got to his knees and cleaned up the mess. Great, now his bathroom was going to smell like the hospital ward he wanted to forget. After tossing the soiled towel in the hamper, he finished bandaging his shoulder, and finally headed into the bedroom.
But he only had one foot on the carpet before he ground to a halt.
Sitting in the middle of his bed with her legs tucked under her, was Brynn. Naked, save for the red necktie fastened over her eyes and the small, flat box she held in her hands.
She gave a hesitant smile, apparently sensing his presence. “You all right? Sounded like a Quentin Tarantino movie in there.”
The longing that assaulted him sucked all the air from the room and almost brought him to his knees. But he didn’t dare move. “Brynn, what are you doing?”
“Giving you my answer.”
The golden lamplight of the room gilded every curve of her nudity, making her appear both goddess-like and vulnerably human all at the same time. He gripped the edge of the doorframe. The urge to touch her, hold her… claim her overwhelming him. But the soft glow couldn’t conceal the faint pink of the healing whip marks—a glaring reminder of the deeper, more pervasive scars that lay beneath the surface.