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Other car doors slam and the other brothers join us with Sawyer running ahead to get the door.
Gideon speaks up. “She’s going to have a long night. One of you needs to help her.”
“In what way,” Reed grinds out.
“You know.” Gideon’s voice is low.
“Fuck.”
“You want me to do it?” Easton asks.
I curl into Reed. His grip around me tightens. “No. No one but me.”
My head is foggy as he carries me up the stairs and deposits me on the bed. When he moves away, I reach for him in dismay. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” he promises. “I’m just getting a washcloth.”
I start crying again when he disappears into the bathroom. “I don’t know why I’m so weepy.”
“You’re drugged to hell. Molly. Coke. God knows what else he gave you.” Reed sounds disgusted.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I’m not mad at you.” He presses the cold cloth against my forehead. “I’m mad at myself. I did this. Well, Easton and I. I brought this on you. I’m Reed the Destroyer.” He sounds sad. “Didn’t you know that?”
“I don’t like that name.”
He sits next to me, drawing the cloth around and around my face, down my neck and onto my shoulders. It feels heavenly. “Yeah, and what would you call me instead?”
I open my mouth and say, “Mine.”
24
We both stop breathing.
“Ella,” he starts, but he doesn’t finish. He just watches as I sit up.
I pull the wet cloth from his hand and toss it onto the floor. His borrowed shirt follows shortly after.
“Ella,” he tries again.
But I’m done with him trying to be noble. I need him right now.
I climb onto his lap, winding my legs around his hips. “Ask me why Daniel was so angry with me before.”
Reed tries to untangle my legs. “Ella—”
“Ask me.”
There’s a beat, and then his attempts to push me off him stop. His hands come to rest on my thighs, and a full-body shiver races through me. “Why was he so angry with you?” Reed asks hoarsely.
“Because I wouldn’t stop saying your name.”
His eyes flare.
“Because it’s you. It’s always been you and I’m tired of fighting it.”
Cloudiness fills his expression. “My brother—”
“You,” I repeat. “Always you.”
I lock my hands at the nape of his neck, and he groans. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Not ’cause of the drugs,” I whisper. “Haven’t been thinking clearly since I met you.”
Another groan leaves his lips. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
I tug his head down to mine. “I need you, Reed. Don’t make me beg.”
And just like that, he gives in. One hand comes up to tangle in my hair while the other pulls me roughly against him. “You don’t ever have to ask again. I’ll give you anything you want.”
His mouth slants over mine, softly at first. Just featherlight touches, as if he’s memorizing the shape of my lips with his own. And then, just when I’m about to plead for more, he sweeps his tongue inside my parted lips and kisses me so deeply that I feel dizzy.
We tumble back onto the mattress. His hands find my hips and they move me against him. His mouth is fused to mine, hungry and demanding. I pour everything I have into the kiss. All my love, my loneliness, my hopes, my sadness.
Reed takes it and gives me everything in return. We tangle up in each other’s arms, and his mouth finds the pulse points behind my ear and at the base of my throat, as he kisses me like he can’t get enough.
He pushes one thigh between my legs and even through my panties and his jeans, I find the relief I need. Almost. It’s still not enough, and I make my unhappiness known in the form of an agonized moan.
He raises himself up on his elbows and peers down at me, his eyes at half-mast, lips swollen from our kisses. He is the hottest guy on the planet, and he’s mine. At least for tonight.
“More,” I beg.
He grins, then rolls over on his side and slides one hand between my legs.
A shockwave rocks my body.
“Better?” he whispers.
Not even close. I squirm, and another grin tugs at the corners of his mouth before his gaze smolders again. His palm moves in a small circle, and the heel of his hand presses into the spot that’s aching for him.
My body is like a live wire, seconds away from exploding. Literally seconds, because all it takes is another rub of his palm and pleasure bursts inside me. I gasp and tremble, stunned by how incredible it feels. Maybe it’s the drugs, but I like to think it’s Reed. His low murmur of encouragement as I rock against his hand. The proof of his excitement pressing against my hip.
His lips find mine again, and I kiss him with renewed urgency, because the need is rising again, faster than either of us expected. I reach for him, pulling on his shoulders until he’s on top of me.
Our mouths collide and he groans when I arch upward to rub against him. The hardness of his body is the only thing providing me relief. He’s huge and ready, but when I reach between us, he pushes my hand away.
“No.” His voice is tortured. “This isn’t about me. Not tonight. Not when you’re…”
Drugged, I think he wants to say, but I don’t feel high anymore. Or at least not high on anything other than him.
His mouth latches onto my neck, kissing and sucking it as he rocks his body against mine. The pleasure builds, but his jeans are getting in the way. I don’t want this to just be about me. I want—
He swats my hand away again and then moves off me altogether. But he doesn’t go far. Heat prickles my skin as he kisses a path across my breasts. Warm lips brush my nipple. When his tongue comes out for a taste, I see stars. When his mouth closes over me, I stop breathing.
Each teasing lick makes me hotter and hotter. Under his grip, I thrash, my body straining for something elusive. He shifts again, taking my other nipple into his mouth. And then he moves lower, his lips gliding down to my stomach.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. My nerve endings hum with need. “Reed,” I beg.
