You’re not sleeping there. I am.
I leave my wrist cradled in his hand. He makes no attempt to break our contact, either. Ever since the president laid his hands on me, making my skin crawl, I’ve wanted nothing more than to feel Reed’s touch. I stayed glued to him after that, his reassuring, strong presence calming the racing of my heart like no one else would have been able to do. Being near him, feeling his muscles tense and relax underneath my hand as I held his arm for the remainder of the night, erased all thoughts of other hands, other unwanted touches, unwarranted suggestions about hotel suites and private talks, and getting away for a while together.
I shudder at the memory. I could tell the moment I felt the president’s eyes on me, trying to penetrate the thin satin of my dress. I’ve experienced that coiling of dread in my stomach many times. A tightening as my body prepares. In nature, it would be fight or flight, but in a multibillion-dollar ballroom with one of the world’s most powerful leaders, it’s not as simple. Survival takes on a whole new meaning when the man you’re about to turn down could likely make you disappear without a trace. You’d just become another cold case, another dead end of loose trails that lead nowhere.
My eyes are drawn down to where Reed’s thumb is stroking gentle circles on my inner wrist.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” And I mean it. I am okay. “Are you? You’re on the president’s radar now.”
His eyes darken and he presses his lips together. “So be it.”
He lets go of my wrist and takes the pillow back from me as I protest, walking over to the bed and placing it back on.
“You’re not sleeping on the sofa. End of discussion.”
“Neither are you.” I cross my arms over my chest.
He sighs.
“Fine. I suppose the bed is kind of huge.” I cast my eyes over the enormous luxury bed in our suite, piled high with sumptuous looking white pillows of varying shapes and sizes. “We can share.”
Reed’s gaze follows mine as he unbuttons his shirt. “If you’re happy, then so am I.”
“Good. That’s settled.” I linger for a moment as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his solid, defined torso and huge arms. I’ve seen it numerous times before. When he’s sweaty from his workout, when he goes to the kitchen for a drink before bed in just his pajama pants, when he walks down the hallway in just a towel around his waist to grab his ringing cell phone.
I’ve seen it.
And yet, I haven’t. Not really. I’ve had blinkers on this entire time. Because if I had really looked, then I would have noticed just how beautiful Reed is. It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time.
He was willing to sacrifice everything tonight.
He could have blown his chances at ever becoming mayor by pissing off the president.
He could have lost it all.
Yet he didn’t seem to contemplate that for a second. He wasn’t thinking of himself.
He was thinking of me.
“Can you please get the top for me? There’s a couple of hooks.” I move in front of him and turn so he can access the back neck strap of my dress, another beautiful loan from Maria. I swear she chooses pink dresses on purpose purely for me. I never see her wear them. She prefers red or cream.
“Of course.”
His breath fans over the back of my neck as he unfastens my dress with ease. I hold the front of it to prevent it from falling. His fingers dust my neck, and he slowly runs his hands down over each of my shoulders and down the tops of my arms, sending goosebumps scattering over my skin.
“You look beautiful tonight. No wonder the president considered starting a war when I came over.” His hands stay resting on my bare skin, a little above my elbows as my heart rate picks up in my chest.
“You were lucky he didn’t.” I breathe slowly, aware that every hair on the back of my neck is standing up from where his breath is ghosting over my skin.
“No.Hewas lucky. If he had started it, then I sure as fuck would have finished it.”
I twist my head to look back at him over my shoulder.
“I would end every war for people I care about, Harls,” he says slowly, holding my gaze.
People he cares about.