Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
“I can wait,” I assure him, and when I dare to meet his eyes, he’s quick to reply.
“Remember you said that. I sure as fuck will.”
He opens the door to the building for me and I exit to the street. I rotate to face him and he snags my hand, leading me toward a black sedan that I assume is a hired car. The heat radiating off our palms and up my arm momentarily stalls my brain, but once I’m in the back of the car with him sliding in beside me, realization hits me.
I face him while he addresses the driver. “Home,” he orders the man, and then looks at me. “This is not the place to talk.”
“If you were in a hired car,” I demand, “why didn’t you take my calls?”
“Your calls change nothing.”
“Have you listened to my messages?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You obviously don’t understand ‘not the place.’”
I scoot closer to him, and grab his arm, leaning in to whisper. “I need you to listen to those messages.” I look up at him and say the word I’ve never said to this man. “Please.”
“Whatever you said won’t change what you did.”
“Then I might as well go home because we have nothing to talk about.” I scoot away from him and settle into the leather of the seat, aware now that we are already moving.
“On the contrary,” Reid says softly. “We have much to talk about and much left unfinished between us.”
I don’t reply. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I don’t know how I got into a place with this man that he can hurt me, but I did. And so we ride, side by side, tension radiating off of us. He grabs his phone and punches a button before pressing the cell to his ear. I don’t know if he’s listening to my messages. I tell myself I don’t care anymore. We are enemies. We always were or he wouldn’t assume my actions are those of an enemy. I sink deeper into my seat as well, the space between us feeling wide. He’s not touching me. He’s always touching me. I’m not sure what this says about where his head is right now. He finishes listening to the messages, whatever messages he’s listened to, and slides his phone into his jacket pocket.
He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t look at me.
And so, I continue to sit here, aware of him in every possible way, inside and out, in a way I have never been aware of another human being. I hate him. I want him. I’m furious with him. It’s a theme. I feel all these things every time we’re together. I try now though to set aside lust and anger and think about where his head might be right now. He was set up. From there, my thoughts chase every feeling he might be feeling and I come back to trust. He told me to trust him, but he wasn’t willing to do the same of me.
The car stops in front of a building that I now believe to be Reid’s apartment, where I’m not going with him. I open my door and he catches my wrist, following me out of the car. He pulls me to him and slams the car door shut. “Do not even think about running from me right now.”
“I don’t run. I walk away when it feels appropriate and that’s about control. Mine. Not yours. I’m walking away. That’s what feels appropriate.”
“You’re going upstairs to my apartment with me and if you think I won’t throw you over my damn shoulder and take you there, you’re wrong.”
“Why?” I challenge. “So you can fuck me and your anger out of your system?”
“Yes. That is exactly my plan. Now are you walking, or am I carrying you?”
Chapter twenty-four
Carrie
“What’s it going to be, Carrie?” Reid demands, dragging me flush against his hard body.
“I’ll go to your apartment with you, Reid, but don’t touch me until I say you can touch me. We’re going to talk first.”
His lips quirk. “You talk. I’ll fuck you while you do it.” He takes my hand and starts walking.
I fall into step with him because I really have no choice unless I want to make a scene and I do not. “The part where I said don’t touch me until I say you can touch me,” I say. “That still applies.”
He folds our elbows and pulls me closer. “I’ve got a pair of handcuffs upstairs that says differently.”
“You’re not cuffing me.”
“Tell me that when I’m between your legs licking you the way we both know you like to be licked.”
My God, why did that just make me wet? He’s crass and almost mean and yet everything about the man turns me on. He opens the door to his building and drags me inside with him like I’m his possession. Or like he just really needs to do what he suggested and fuck me out of his system. That he feels this need because I’m in his head shouldn’t please me, but it does. Almost as much as cuffing him and leaving him in that room.