“My brother’s a good lay.” His eyes gleam. “But he’s not as good as me.”
Reed undoes the button of his cargo shorts and tugs on the zipper. I can’t breathe. I’m frozen in place as he yanks the shorts off and kicks them away.
My legs start to shake. Everywhere I look I see smooth golden skin and tight muscle.
“Here’s the deal,” he says. “My brother and father are off-limits to you. If you have an itch that needs scratching, you come to me. I’ll take care of it.”
He rests his large palm between his pecs, then drags it lower.
All the oxygen is trapped in my lungs. I can’t do anything but follow the trajectory of his hand. It slides over his abs and stomach, stops just above his groin, then shifts lower to delve past the elastic of his boxer briefs.
Reed’s fingers close around his very obvious hard-on and someone moans. I think it’s me. It must be me, because he smiles.
“You want this?” He pumps himself slowly. “You can have it. Lick it, suck it, fuck it, anything you want, baby. As long it’s just with me.”
My heart beats even faster.
Reed tips his head. “Do we have a deal?”
It’s the calculated note in his voice that snaps me out of my trance. Horror and indignation rush to the surface, and I stumble backward, bumping my shins on the bed.
“Screw you,” I choke out.
He looks unimpressed with my outburst.
I lick my lips. My mouth is dryer than the Sahara and yet I’ve never felt more alive. All my stripping, all my dodging of Mom’s handsy boyfriends, hasn’t prepared me for this. Maybe there were guys lined up to sleep with me, but I was focused on working, caring for my mom, and then just surviving. I can’t even remember the face of a single guy I went to school with last year.
The image of Reed standing here—buff, golden, and naked with his dick in his hand—will be burned into my memory forever.
He has everything a girl could want: the hard body, the handsome face that will still look good years from now, the money, and that extra something. Charisma, I guess. The ability to slay you with a single look.
The apple is dangling in front of me, juicy red and delicious, but, like the fairy tale, Reed Royal is the villain disguised as a pretty prince. Taking a bite out of him would be a huge mistake.
And I might be attracted to him, but I refuse to let my first time to be with someone who despises me. Someone who’s trying to protect his perfectly capable brother from my innocent destruction.
But I don’t want to leave without a taste either, because I’m not that strong…or stupid.
He may hate me, but he wants me. His grip on his dick doesn’t ease up. If anything, his muscles bunch harder as if he’s anticipating my touch.
This is what Valerie was talking about the other night when we were dancing. I didn’t respond to the crowd, but Reed’s hot eyes tracking my every move made me feel real. I know that if I was in Reed’s head right now all I’d see would be me.
I saunter to the chair in the corner where a folded robe is wrapped in its sash. I pull the sash off and then run the strip of terry cloth through my fingers.
“Anything I want?” I ask him.
His eyes close momentarily and then snap open with so much need my knees nearly buckle.
“Yes. Anything.” His response sounds as if it’s wrenched out of him. “But just me.”
“Why are you so desperate?” I taunt. “You had sex with someone just last night.”
He makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “I didn’t have jack last night. You’re the one who made out with East.”
“And you weren’t rocking the Range Rover so hard the tires were coming off?” I say sarcastically.
“That was Wade.” My confusion must show because he clarifies. “The quarterback of Astor Park, friend of mine. The bathroom was full. He couldn’t wait.”
Something like relief floods me. Maybe this is the only way his pride lets us be together. Maybe I could have him. Maybe this is my good thing. My reward. I decide to test it.
“I want to tie you up.”
His jaw hardens. He probably thinks that this is my kink—something I’ve tried out a dozen times before.
“Sure, babe, anything you want.”
He’s not giving in; he’s baiting me. I kick myself for believing for a single moment that I’m anything more to Reed than a convenient warm body.
I approach him with growing resolve. “This is nice, isn’t it?”
He watches me warily as I gesture for him to hold out his wrists. And for all my pretend nonchalance, I can barely stifle a gasp when his hand brushes against my bare midriff. Note to self: wear more clothes around Reed for my own self-preservation.
I’m not a Boy Scout or sailor. I know one knot—the shoelace one. I wrap his wrists twice and we both suck in a breath when the sash strikes the front of his boxers not once, but twice. “You’re killing me,” he says between gritted teeth.
“Good,” I murmur, but my hands are shaking so hard I can barely get my simple knots tied.
“You like this? Me at your mercy.”