She didn’t believe Reed would welcome her now, though.
It was a crushing thought.
When he’d stopped calling and coming over after Pete’s final visit she’d understood. The incident had scared Reed, and though he made all those noises about being a loner and better off by himself, to her it had proved that he cared.
In his mind, she realized now, maybe too much.
She’d been holding out hope that he’d find her and the boys irresistible. Once, he’d said that. But now she wondered if it was the very thing he’d fight hardest against.
In his growing-up years, there’d been excess and neglect, ready wealth and easy sex.
But not real love. Not the kind that gave you strength and fueled dreams. He’d managed both on his own, of course, but when life handed out the hard stuff—like Ben’s death and Payne’s accident—he didn’t know how to reach out a hand. How to acknowledge what was in his heart.
Was it too late for him to learn?
“Why the hell is Payne so reckless?” Reed wondered aloud.
“You don’t know—”
“Oh. I know.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “We’re all so screwed up, right? Payne, me, Beck. The others, too. Our own worst enemies. Every one of us fighting demons.”
She dared touching him now, laying her fingers on his shoulder. “You should go into the waiting room and sit with your tribe.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged off her hand then stood. “There’s something I need to do.” When he stalked off, she followed after him until he came to a halt in front of Walsh.
His brother looked up. “What?”
“It’s time to find Beck.”
“Hop tried, right? You and I both know he’ll turn up.”
“In time for Payne’s funeral?”
Cilla and Alexa gasped. Cami covered her mouth with her hand.
“For God’s sake,” Ren ground out. “Really, Mary Sunshine?”
Reed acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “You’ve got contacts in the Department of Defense, Walsh. Pull strings.”
“This isn’t like NORAD tracking Santa on Christmas Eve,” Walsh said. “Sit down, Reed, and shut the hell up.”
Tension was humming off of him. Cleo wrapped her hand around his elbow. “Come on. There’s a seat over here.”
Again, he shook her off. “We have to face facts, people.”
“Reed,” Cilla said. “Let’s keep it positive in here, okay?”
“That’s not going to change a damn thing, Cilla.”
“Hey.” Ren stood. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
“Why not? Payne’s on death’s door and you know what…it opens! All of you forget that. So I think we should be prepared.” He turned to Cami. “Your brother might lose his life.”
She jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing. “You’re a ghoul!” Rushing him, she shoved at his chest and he stumbled back. “And I don’t want you here.” When she shoved again, his stagger upset a chair that fell over with a thud. “Get out. Just get out.”
His face was as furious as hers. “Happy to,” he said, then spun for the exit.
Cleo glanced at the faces in the room, their upset clearly escalated. “He…”
“We get it,” Ren said wearily. “Go after him, okay? We all just need to cool down.”
She found him outside the hospital doors, the flat of one foot and his shoulders braced on the stucco wall. “Can I get you something?”
“A scalpel? I’m thinking I should cut out my tongue.”
“You’re distressed. Everyone’s distressed.”
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Go home, Cleo.”
“Reed—”
“Remember what I said? Not good company.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes on the ground. “Didn’t you hear Cami? I’m a ghoul.”
“Pish tosh,” she said, hoping the silly expression would shake him from his misery. He didn’t seem to hear.
The ache in her chest was growing, pushing her heart toward her throat. She wanted to touch him so badly that she crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her fingers tight.
“Reed,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Please. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
He looked up now, his expression bleak, the blue of his eyes darker than usual, the color like a bruise. “Don’t you get it? That’s exactly how I like it.”
Chapter Fifteen
Reed showed up on her doorstep after dark, a bag of Chinese take-out in his hands. One look at the set expression on his face, and Cleo’s knees weakened. She gripped the jamb. “Payne? Has he taken a turn for the worse? I had a text from Alexa that said the surgery went well.”
“Nothing’s changed there.” He hesitated. “May I come in?”
Was it wise? How many times should she offer up her heart as a punching bag? She sighed. At least once more, she supposed, and stood back. “Sure.”
“Hungry?” He waved the bag.
“Sure,” she said again, and led the way into the kitchen.
He watched her pull plates from the cupboard.
“Sleepover going okay?”
“I checked in not long ago. Obie’s doing well.”
“That’s great.” Reed crossed to the kitchen table, took a seat, and began unpacking the cartons from the bag. Then he glanced at her as she sat across from him. “I’m sorry about that scene at the hospital.”
“Reed—”
“Cami still wants to strangle me, though her mood’s improved now that we know Payne’s going to get through this.”
“It’s been a hard day.”
“Knocked me for a loop,” Reed said. He pushed the cartons in her direction. “I…I’m not thinking very clearly.”
Cleo began dishing food onto the plates, unable to smother the hope sparking inside her. Maybe now was the opportunity to get through to him. Perhaps, with his defenses battered, he would open up to her and share his feelings about Payne’s accident. Reed might even be able to admit he cared about
her
.
Was it too far a stretch to think she could get him to utter the L-word?
Hauling in a calming breath, she passed him a plate. “Do you want to talk about it?” she ventured.
He pulled a pair of chopsticks from their wrapper. “Can we just sit a while? I need to de-compress.”
Cleo told herself she could be patient. Intending to relax him further, she sent him a winsome smile. “Favor?” she asked.
“Hmm?”
“I’m out of napkins. Would you please grab a new package out of the futility closet?”
The tense lines of his face eased. “Futility closet?” he asked, rising.
“Wait until you see how hard it is to find something in there.”
She was rewarded with a full-fledged grin. It flipped her heart. How much she loved this man.
When he returned, he tossed a stack of napkins on the table. “You should go to one of those efficient storage stores, darlin’. For free, they’ll work up the cost of organization—at least give you a ball pen figure.”
Her groan made him smile again. “I don’t know,” she said. “Getting someone in there to work on said organization might cause a bigger mess—like a bowl in a china shop.”
He shook his head, pointed his chopsticks at her. “Had to work much too hard for that one.”
“I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel, I admit. Where do you find yours?”
“Most often in the library, that great suppository of learning. I absorb new ones there all the time.”
Her frown was severe. “No, thank you. That kind of talk is much too close to otter spraint.”
“Admit you’re glad you know that.”
As she shook her head, he laughed. “When you’re holding back your smile, a little dimple shows up right here.” Reaching across the table, he brushed his forefinger close to her mouth.
The touch felt like a burn. Her gaze locked with his and she shivered.
Reed groaned. “Cleo…”
“I can’t help it,” she said, looking away. “It’s been an emotional day for me, too.”
His hand caught hers. “I’m not complaining about the chemistry.”
But couldn’t he see it was more than that? Cleo pushed her plate away. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
He squeezed her fingers. “How about for me?”
She tried to laugh and it came out sounding strangled. “Sex as a side order?”
“Beautiful Cleo,” he murmured.
Shouldn’t she stand strong? Not settle for another physical encounter when she wanted the entire egg roll? But Reed was on the other side of her table, her night companion, her complicated, wounded writer, the one who had unlocked the woman from her mom-shell.
“You’re looking for a way to say goodbye,” she accused, and there was a catch in her voice.
“I wish I didn’t think continuing with what we had wouldn’t hurt you more. And Eli and Obie too.”
She sniffed. “Oh, play dirty.”
He smiled a little. “I’m being honest. Don’t you think creating something between the four of us that’s unsustainable does them a disservice?”
“That sounds like…like words. Not like emotions.”
“Cleo, I don’t have the ones you want, you need, you deserve. I cut off the blood supply to them years ago.”
After Ben’s suicide, she knew, Reed had convinced himself it was dangerous to care too much.
Aah! She wanted to stomp her feet and wail and cry and have a toddler tantrum the likes that no person had ever seen. She wanted to throw pillows and break dishes because just a few minutes ago she’d had the sappy hope that she might coax the word “love” out of the man.
Instead she swallowed hard, and pushed back her chair to rise. “I choose just the plain goodbye then, thanks very much. No physical frills necessary.” She began repacking the food in the bag and tried pretending sending the love of her life away wasn’t tearing her up inside.
“Don’t you want to read your fortune cookie?” Reed pushed one toward her.
“No.” In sudden anger, Cleo smashed it with the flat of her fist. “I only want…I only want...” Then the temper evaporated and she spun away from him, wrapping her arms around her belly.
He was up from the table in an instant. His hand closed over her shoulder. She twitched.
His hold firmed. “Cleo…”
“Just go away.”
Instead of obeying, he turned her into him and brought her against his chest. She fought not to cling, but then she was doing just that, her arms around his back, her cheek against his heart.
Their bodies aligned so perfectly.
He ducked his head, his mouth moving against her cheek. “You want to hate me?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Yes.”
“I’m taking you to bed.” And then he swung her into his arms. “Okay?”
If only that would make her despise him. No, forget him.
No.
She never wanted to forget him.
He jiggled her. “Okay?”
“I do hate you,” she said, and fastened her mouth on his throat.
His laugh was low, the dark prince taking her to the underworld.
As if he thought the same, he left her bedroom darkened. Then he set her on the mattress and his hands were urgent as they undressed her. She cooperated, raising her arms, lifting her hips, as want and resentment twined inside of her.
When he came down beside her, both of them naked, she arched her neck as he kissed her there. “Aren’t you going to tell me a story?” she asked, her voice cross.
“It’s your turn,” he said, trailing his mouth toward her breast.
She moaned as he licked her nipple.
“Once upon a time…” he prompted.
Her hands dove into his hair, the short strands cool and silky. “Um…”
His head lifted. “Little Red Riding Hood came bearing treats.”
“Not to grandma. To the Big Bad Wolf.”
In the darkness, his teeth flashed white. “Now you’re getting the hang of this.” Growling, he gave a playful bite to her nipple.
Cleo squirmed. “And he…” A shiver worked down her body as he sucked at her breast. “What did he do?” she asked, plaintive, while his hand slid down her belly.
It stroked between her thighs. “He made Red, or in this case, Blonde, feel very happy,” Reed said.
Her hips arched into the touch. “She was supposed to hate him. No, I’m supposed to hate you.”
“That comes later,” he promised, and pressed kisses down the midline of her body. Settling between her legs, he rubbed his cheek against her inner thighs.
Tears pricked her eyes even as desire surged through her blood. Using his thumbs, he opened her for his mouth. Then he consumed her, feasting on her wet flesh, groaning.
Reaching down, she fisted her hand in his hair and hung on as he took her over a hard edge. The drop was abrupt, but then he rose to catch her, his mouth on hers.
They shared her taste in a salacious kiss.
“Hurry,” she said, needing the emptiness inside her to be filled.
He slid inside her easy this time, she was so ready for him. Cleo lifted into the thrust, desperate to have him, even if she couldn’t hold him.
His body surged against hers like heavy waves, the ocean breaking on the shore. She pushed her head into the pillow and reveled in the sweet, dirty ride of it, his words electrifying her.
That’s it. Squeeze down. Oh, God. You’re a hot fist. Never better. Never this good.
Then he reached between their bodies, timing his touch to nudge her over just as he drove one final time. They shuddered in each other’s arms.
Sometime later, he left her body and went into the bathroom, presumably to dispose of the condom. On his return, he carried a damp, warm washcloth. He touched it to her belly. “Too hot?”
“No,” she said, unsure.
Then he used it to soothe her, pressing it to her swollen folds. He was so gentle she didn’t even twitch, and the intimacy of the act…
Well, no one had ever tended to her like this.
Again, tears pricked her eyes and any self-defensive barrier she had left was shattered.
In the darkness, she watched him. “I wouldn’t break your heart. Go away like Ben. Turn a cold shoulder like your father.”
Reed’s hand stilled. “I’m not going to deny those things have a lot to do with who I am. But it’s…more than that.”
“I don’t know why.”
He leaned close and kissed her belly. “Do you know what a mondegreen is?”
“No.”
“A relative of our eggcorns. Misheard song lyrics.”
“Eli used to think it went ‘Head, shoulders, cheese on toast.’”
He laughed a little. “Exactly. For me, you know the song ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’?”
“Of course.”