When I look up, Reed is staring at me with his brow furrowed. Evan is lying on his shoulder, completely passed out.
Oh god, the two of them together is too much to take. It’s adorable.
This is what women mean when they say baby fever. It’s never been a thing until I see Reed Davidson clutching a sleeping toddler to his chest.
“Sorry, the crowd was crazy, I kind of zoned-out. I can’t believe he fell asleep through that.”
Reed grins. “Call me the baby whisperer.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. It’s freezing outside, in the low forties, so Reed transfers a sleepy Evan into my arms, and leaves us in the warmth while he waits for the Uber. It finally pulls up to the curb, and I realize how exhausted I am. The adrenaline from the game has left me feeling drained, and I can’t wait to crawl into the plush sheets of the hotel’s bed.
“Ready?” Reed appears back through the doors.
I nod. I don’t want to wake Evan, so I keep quiet until we’re inside the car and buckled. The ride back to the hotel is quiet, even though I see Reed’s knee bouncing nonstop. He’s completely amped up, still riding the high from his win.
We arrive at the hotel a few minutes later, and thankfully, this time the elevator is working because I did not feel like climbing three flights of stairs with the dead weight of a sleeping toddler in my arms.
My room is next to Reed’s, so once the elevator dings and we’re on our floor, I follow Reed inside their suite and put Evan in bed, making sure to take off his shoes and tuck Pickles back into his arms.
I hear the shower running as I close the door to his room and walk back into Reed’s.
I’m unsure what to do. Do I stay? Would Reed want that? Everything between us is so new, I don’t know what to do in a situation like this. I nervously chew on the inside of my lip, a habit I’m desperately trying to break, when Reed walks out of the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his waist. He’s dry, so he must have not showered yet.
Jesus Christ.
My eyes drift from his dimpled, playful grin down the hard planes of his chest to the set of abs that are enough to make my mouth water. I’m a goner when it comes to this man, and he knows it, judging by the smug expression on his face.
“Just gonna stand there, babe? Or…” He trials off, waiting for my answer. Reed is so effortlessly confident and I’m… not.
Suddenly, I feel shy, the old Holland resurfacing at the worst possible time. What happened to the brazen and bold Holland who took charge the other night? The one who wasn’t afraid or self-conscious as Reed devoured my body.
“I- I wasn’t sure you wanted me to stay,” I whisper.
Reed’s expression morphs into confusion, then he laughs. “You don’t need an invitation, Holland. We’ve made it clear where we stand with each other, and babe, I want you. I want you now, tomorrow, a fucking week from now.”
My cheeks burn with his admission, but my clit throbs, needy and desperate for his attention.
He stalks forward and pulls me toward him, capturing my lips in a kiss that causes me to melt against him. His lips are firm and plush, and when his tongue slips inside my mouth, all of my doubt and hesitation, all of my worries disappear to where the only thing I can feel is Reed. I feel how hard he is pressed against me, and my hands travel down his chest to the knotted towel at his waist. I brush my hand against his cock, and he hisses loudly in response.
“Fuck, Holland.”
Gathering every single ounce of confidence inside me, I drop to my knees before him and look up under my lashes.
“Holland, I don’t expect this,” Reed starts, but I shake my head, stopping him.
“I want this. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
His gaze turns molten, burning straight through me. When his long, thick fingers wrap around my throat gently, moving up to my jaw, he swipes the rough pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. His touch is encouraging and reassuring. It gives me the push to continue.
I undo the towel at his waist, and it falls to the floor in a pile. His cock springs free, bobbing in my face, and I eagerly wrap my shaking hand around him. He’s so thick and girthy, my fingers don’t meet as I grip him.
The best thing about having Reed as a lover? He’s vocal. I’ve learned that from only our first time together, and it's something I never realized I wanted so badly.
Pumping my fist, I work his cock up and down, and use my tongue to trace his sensitive head. He immediately weaves his hand in my hair, letting out a low, tortured groan. I look up at him and see his head thrown back as he grips my hair, and only then do I close my mouth around him and suck until my cheeks hollow.
Every time I suck him deeper into my mouth, he tightens his grip in my hair. After a few moments, he pulls back abruptly, panting.
“Goddamn, Holland, I am not going to last, stop.” He groans, breathlessly.