Page 31 of Reining Her In

C H A P T E R E L E V E N

Constance

“Oh my God.” My voice is like sandpaper on my dry throat. Those same three words again but I can’t stop it. The last few days have sapped me emotionally and physically. My brain is drained.

Reed is holding open the door on his old pick-up as I climb up and in. The raised voices from inside the barn grow as my father and Travis almost come to their own blows. My father is many things, but a cheat and a liar he is not, and he abhors being duped more than anything.

“They all can live happily ever after,” Reed jokes, gently closing the door.

I watch as my mother leans into the open barn doors. My heart breaks a little bit when I see the sadness on her face... She gives me the smallest of waves and a tiny, pitiful smile. I don’t even know who she is. I don’t know why she’s put up with my father the way he’s been all these years, but right now, I see a loneliness in her eyes that I’ve ignored for too long. She’s suffered as well, and I make it one of my goals to get to know my mother. To see what makes her tick and maybe even help her.

Reed hops up into the truck, keys the ignition, and glides the pickup down the long drive toward the main house and the gates of the estate. His hand comes over to mine, warm and reassuring as he turns to look at me, then back at the road.

“I need to ask you something.” His voice is serious, and after everything that has happened I don’t think I could take another blow right now.

I don’t want to care this much this fast, but I cannot deny this strange connection I’ve had to him since that moment we looked at each other in the ring. I didn’t know these kinds of feelings were possible, and now I can’t stop them. I know what I want to call them, but I’m afraid.

“What?”

He slows the truck to a stop in front of the house. The lights are still glowing from many of the leaded-glass windows that decorate the front of the hundred-year-old Tudor mansion.

“I’m a man that believes in instinct. I know what I know. I also know I’m scared shitless around you.”

A wave of shock courses through me as he squeezes my hand.

“Me? You’re scared of me? Why?”

“Because, if you aren’t feeling what I’m feeling. If this,” another gentle squeeze of my fingers before he continues, “whatever this is between us, isn’t as real for you as it is for me, that is the most frightening thought I can imagine.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. His eyes are shining silver gray in the dim light, intensely searching my face.

“I’m not here to date you. I’m not here to hook-up or whatever the fuck it’s called. This is real for me. I don’t want casual. I don’t want ‘let’s see.’ I know what I want, it hit me like a bolt of lightning that first day. Once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky, you get this. And, my God, that first time I kissed you... I’ve never known anything like I know this. I’m all in, Constance. One hundred percent of me. I want you. I need to know where you are.”

Tears burn in the corners of my eyes, but I manage to keep them from spilling over by biting into my lips until I break skin.

“Well, I...” My head is spinning, searching for the words. “I know one thing. The only place I can think of that I want to be right now is with you. Back at your house. And that first time you kissed me? I knew something too. I knew you would be my first.”

He leans over and takes my mouth, his warm tongue swooping between my lips, his hand releasing mine and gripping the back of my neck, taking what he wants. His breath comes out of his nose hot on my cheek like he’s been holding it far too long.

I’m desperate for my heart to slow and my breath to come back when he finally breaks away still keeping us nose to nose.

“I’m your first, Constance. But I’m also going to be your last. And your only.”

He dots my face with kisses, leaving no spot untouched, then puts the truck back in drive.

“We’re going home?” The words tumble out as natural as the spring dew.

Home.

“Yep. Then tomorrow morning, you are going to see a friend of mine.”

“Who’s that?”

“Dr. Marcus Roberson, MD, Ph.D. He’s a neurologist. One of the best in the world. And whatever that was that happened yesterday, he’s going to fix it. If I didn't take care of you, that would hurt me more than anything, Constance. I need you to be okay, and he’s the one that’s going to help. So, tomorrow, 8:00 a.m., we’re going. Don’t even try to fight me on this.”

I bite my lip; his voice leaves no room for disagreement.

“Well, guess we won’t be getting much sleep tonight then, will we?”

He drops his right hand from the steering wheel, setting it firmly on my thigh, moving upward until he’s stroking the fabric of my britches between my legs.

“Or lots of nights in the future.”

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