Chapter 151: Reid
Jake doesn’t want to let her go. I can tell. His arms tighten just a second longer around her before he sighs and shifts her in my direction.
“I’ll put away her stuff,” he says, low and gruff, like handing her off is something that physically hurts. “Don’t take too long up there.”
“I won’t,” I lie, flashing him a wink as I slide my arms under her again and lift her into me.
She’s warm and weightless in my grip, cheek pressed to my shoulder like she was made to rest there. Her scent is already on me, vanilla and something softer, something that’s just hers. Jake’s watching me like he’s trying to read my next ten moves, and I don’t blame him. I don’t know what they are either.
I climb the stairs and duck under the low ceiling of her room with a muttered “Jesus, this place wasn’t built for tall humans.” I nudge the door shut behind us with my foot and lower her onto the bed as gently as I can. She stirs, barely. Still in jeans. Still in that soft, oversized hoodie.
That can’t be comfortable.
I hover over her for a second, just watching. She’s so peaceful like this. So soft. But the longer I stare, the more dangerous it feels.
I kneel beside the bed and brush my fingers down the curve of her cheek. Her lashes flutter, her lips part.
“Hey,” I murmur, just loud enough to pull her out of sleep.
She blinks up at me, confused for a second. “I… wasn’t done,” she mumbles, voice foggy.
I chuckle, quiet and dark. “Yeah, you were. No way I’m letting you pull another all-nighter, Trouble.”
Her mouth twitches at the nickname, but she still looks half ready to argue. I shake my head and nod toward her clothes. “You should change out of those. Can’t be comfortable.”
She sits up slowly, rubbing at one eye, and starts to tug her hoodie over her head. I help her, fingers brushing under the fabric—then freezing.
I wasn’t prepared for what’s underneath. For that tank top.
Light blue. Thin. So thin. No bra. And clinging to every inch of her like a second skin.
My breath punches out of me. I swear my brain just flatlined.
Fuck.
I drop my eyes instantly, like that’ll help. Like I haven’t already memorized the slope of her chest, the tight peaks on each side, the way the fabric hugs close under her arms and over her ribs. I breathe through my nose, jaw tight.
Do not look again.
My voice is strained when I say, “Want to take off your jeans too?” I still don’t look at her, which is hard, because she’s right in front of me, warm and sleepy and very much almost naked.
“Yeah…” she says, softer now, the air between us thickening. Her fingers fumble at the button of her jeans, and before she can get to the zipper, I step in.
“Let me.”
She hesitates, then nods.
I grip the waistband and slide the denim down her legs, slowly. It’s torture. Long, smooth skin revealed inch by inch. And the underwear—lace, white, delicate, so small it’s almost a suggestion rather than clothing. Pale and soft and doing absolutely fucking nothing to tame the animal I’m barely keeping in check.
A groan escapes me before I can stop it. My head drops toward her thigh and I mutter, half into her skin, “This is what earns you your nickname.”
She laughs, breathless, and her eyes meet mine. She’s not tired anymore. Not even a little. Her pupils are wide, her cheeks flushed, and for a second I forget how to breathe again.
I groan again and pull back just enough to ask, “Where are your sleep shorts? Joggers? Anything.”
She tilts her head, mischievous. “I can sleep like this.”
“Not unless you want me to commit murder,” I say flatly, thinking about Finn, Liam, the paper-thin walls, and my own self-control on its last fraying thread. “Just… please, for my sanity. Tell me where.”
She giggles, points to the dresser. I snatch the first pair I find—soft, blue cotton—and kneel back in front of her. “Feet,” I murmur, and she gives them to me. I pull the shorts up her legs and over her hips. I don’t trust myself to speak.
Then I do it anyway.
“You drive me insane.”
Her eyes soften. She reaches out, slow and unsure—until she cups my jaw and kisses me.
It’s her this time.
She’s the one leaning in, lips brushing mine, sweet and sure. I grip her hips instinctively, feeling the heat in my palms spread like wildfire. She starts to shift, climbing into my lap, but I stop her with a firm hold.
“Trouble,” I murmur against her mouth, voice dark and thick. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
She freezes slightly, like she wasn’t expecting me to say it out loud. I can feel her body heating against my palms.
I press my forehead to hers. “But when I take you… it’s going to be for hours. And it’ll be loud. So now’s not the time.”
Her breath catches. Her eyes go wide, desire flaring hot and raw.
I’m going to lose my fucking mind if I don’t step back. But I can’t—not yet. Not before I pull the comforter over her, before I kiss her cheek and whisper, “Lie down.”
She does, reluctantly, curling into the pillow. I tug the blanket up to her chin, tuck it around her shoulders, and trace my fingers through her hair until her eyes begin to flutter closed again.
It takes everything I have not to crawl in beside her. Not to take off that tank top and see exactly what it's been hinting at underneath.
I bend down and press a slow kiss to her temple. I linger there for a second longer than I should. Then I force myself to leave, close the door behind me, and drag in a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Jake’s downstairs, leaned against the counter with a smug look on his face clearly intended at the massive bulge in my pants.
He doesn’t say a word.
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter as I walk past him.
I reach for the front door.
“And lock the fucking door this time,” I call over my shoulder.
His laughter follows me out into the night, and just before I hear the click of the deadbolt, I mutter to myself—
“We're moving her to our house.”