Reed’s blue eyes get stormy. He climbs over me, caging me between his arms and legs. “Yeah, I think we’re done with that.”
His head descends slowly and I lick my lips in anticipation—
“—what the hell, did the Lions just score?” Easton bursts in.
Reed sighs and heaves himself off me.
“See how nice it would be if people started knocking,” I whisper as Easton grabs the remote from the bed and turns up the volume on the game.
Reed just folds his arms and grunts. We both watch as Easton begins to pace.
The team wearing blue and silver and sporting lions on their helmets is marching down the field. The opposing team with a flaming T on their helmets isn’t doing a very good job protecting its scoring area. For the next twenty minutes, the blue and navy team scores one touchdown after another until the score is tied.
Easton is beside himself. By the time the whistle blows, he’s as white as the sheer curtains hanging on the windows.
“What’s going on?” Reed demands. “How much did you put on this game?”
I inherited addiction issues from my mommy. Oh, Easton.
Easton shrugs, trying to act like it’s no big deal. “I got this, big bro.”
Reed’s jaw works as if he’s fighting not to yell at Easton. Finally, he says, “If you need anything, hit me up.”
Easton gives us a weary smile. “Yeah, of course. Gotta make a phone call now. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says with forced cheeriness.
“Does Easton have a gambling problem?” I ask once Easton’s door closes down the hall.
Reed exhales in frustration. “Maybe? I don’t know. I think he gambles and drinks because he’s bored, not because he’s addicted. But then I’m not a psychiatrist, am I?”
I flounder for something to say, but can only come up with, “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “Nothing you or I can do about it.”
By the fierce set of Reed’s jaw, I can tell he doesn’t believe that for a minute.
“I’m going to bed.” Reed pushes away from the mattress.
I curl my legs underneath me, fighting the urge to beg him to stay. “Okay,” I say in a small voice.
His brows scrunch together. “I don’t think I’d be good company tonight.”
“That’s fine.” I rise from the bed and head toward the bathroom. Am I hurt that he doesn’t want to stay with me tonight? A little.
He grabs my wrist as I walk by. “I’m just worked up and…I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”
“Is this an it’s not you, it’s me speech? Because that’s the absolute worst. No one wants to hear that.”
A reluctant smile tugs at his mouth. “No. It’s a you’re too hot for your own damn good speech and I’m having a hard time, literally, keeping my hands off you.”
I round on him and poke a finger into his rock-solid chest. “Who says I want you to keep your hands to yourself?”
He grabs my finger and hauls me up against him. “You really ready, Ella? Ready for it all?”
I hesitate and that’s all the answer he needs. Dipping his head close to mine, he runs his nose along my cheek. “You aren’t and that’s okay because I can wait, but sleeping next to you is torture for me. Your body pressed up against me…and I wake up—” He breaks off but I know what he’s saying because it’s true for me, too.
I’m suddenly aching in spots I didn’t realize could ache. “We could do other stuff.” I lick my lips, thinking of the pool house.
He groans and buries his face in my neck. “There’s no rush. Seriously. We’re going to take our time and do this right.” With another deep breath, he sets me away from him and strokes a strand of hair out of my eyes. “We okay?”
There’s no point in disagreeing. I know Reed well enough that once he’s made up his mind about something, it takes a long time to change it, which means I’m spending the night alone.
“We’re okay.” I rise on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek but Reed turns his face so our lips meet.
The long, tender kiss he gives me goes a long way toward easing any hurt feelings. The feel of his hard frame against my body doesn’t hurt either.
And the last hints of rejection are brushed away when Reed slips into my bed later that night. Silently, I pull his arm around me and fall into a deep and welcome sleep.
32
On Thursday, Valerie accosts me at lunch. “What is going on with you and Reed?”
I try to look as innocent as possible when I answer, “What do you mean?”
“Apparently yesterday he walked by you on the way to Bio and flicked your hair,” she announces.
I stare at her and then burst out laughing. “And that’s some sort of big declaration by Reed Royal?” I ask incredulously.
She nods. “Reed does not do PDA. Even when he was supposedly dating Abby—”