Page 106 of Stream Heat
The word hung there, daring me to flinch. I didn’t. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I knew exactly what I wanted to say.
“I love you, too.” The truth of it was so obvious I wondered why it had ever been hard to say. “And it’s not new, either. I think I’ve been sliding toward you for months, even before I wanted to admit it.”
Reid’s smile was like sunrise, all gold and warmth and impossible not to stare at. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. You made me crazy, but you also made me feel safe. You made me braver. I don’t know what else you call that if it’s not love.”
He didn’t hesitate. He came around the island and stopped just close enough for his warmth to chase away every last shiver of doubt. “Can I touch you?” he asked.
“Please.”
His hands cradled my face, slow and reverent, thumbs skating along my cheekbones as if memorizing them. “I want to kiss you,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Not because of heat. Not because of instinct. Because I love you, and you’re beautiful, and I’ve wanted this for a long, long time.”
“Then do it,” I whispered.
Reid’s kiss was hungry, raw and blinding and desperate, but only for a moment, then it turned slow and sensual as thoughhe realized he could take his time. It was built on purpose, laced with emotion.
Every press of his lips felt measured and fierce, as if he cared more about making me feel something than about satisfying some animal need. I noticed the difference in every pass of his mouth, the careful way he explored, the sounds he gave up into the space between us, all soft and shaken and real.
His hands curved around me, like I was a puzzle he meant to solve until he could close his eyes and see it all behind them. The smells of kitchen food, the tang of grilled cheese, the muffled voices from the living room, all of it faded. My pulse thumped in my ears, loud as thunder, but I barely noticed anything except the way he felt against me.
I parted my lips. Invited him in, and got a groan out of him in return. It was low and rough, vibrating straight through my bones. It wasn’t the sound of someone staking a claim, but reverence, pure and crystalline. Like he’d been waiting for this, like I was the answer to some ache so deep in him it barely had a name, and now he had me he’d never take it for granted.
He broke the kiss, just long enough to sweep across my jaw, then lower, tracing the side of my neck in light, fluttering passes. My skin shivered, and my hands found their way up under his shirt, greedy for his warmth.
“Come upstairs with me,” I whispered, my voice barely there. “Please.”
Reid paused. He didn’t let go, just tipped his head a little so he could see my face. His pupils were blown wide, the darkness in them deep, but his voice was steady as a heartbeat. “Are you sure? We don’t have to rush. Really.”
“I’m not rushing,” I told him. I didn’t even try to hide the desperation in my voice; I couldn’t. “I’ve been wanting this for weeks. Not because of biology. Because it’s you.”
Something behind his eyes softened, not the hunger, that stayed, banked but burning. But there was something else, a kind of awe, or wonder, or maybe just relief. Like he trusted this, trusted me, in a way that reached all the way down.
“Okay,” he said, quiet but certain. “Let’s go.”
He took my hand, threading our fingers together, and we slipped through the house on silent feet, neither of us speaking as we passed the landing and the murmured voices in the den. My heart hammered, but not with nerves. With anticipation. With the certainty that I wanted this.
His room was dim, the only light coming from a lamp on the nightstand, amber glow washing over the tangled dark green sheets. He shut the door behind us, slow and careful, the softclickfelt like the closing of a chapter, and the beginning of a new one. When he turned to me his face went soft and open as I stepped into him.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. Like it was a confession he’d been holding onto, afraid to let it out. “Every time I see you, it’s like the whole world stops.”
I smiled. “Then stop looking,” I said, finding the edge of his shirt, “and help me feel it.”
He didn’t need more encouragement. His mouth crashed back to mine, more urgent than before, hands skipping to my hips as he guided me backward until I hit the mattress behind my knees. I sat, tugged him down with me, and we sort of fell together, our bodies slotting into place like this was just muscle memory, like we’d always known how.
“I want you,” I breathed, so soft I might’ve doubted I’d said it if not for the way Reid’s eyes snapped to mine. A hush settled. The air was tight between us. He looked at me, every inch of me, like I was a riddle he needed to solve, darkness rimmed around his iris.
“Are you sure?” he murmured.
“I’ve never been more sure.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever been sure of anything else in my life.
Reid’s hands found the bottom of my shirt, waiting. “Can I take this off?” he asked. Like I was a painting behind glass.
“Please.” The word was sharp, immediate. Desperate.
He didn’t rush. He peeled my shirt away as if it might bite him; slow, gentle, deliberate. When he unclasped my bra, hands just barely trembling, my skin stung where the straps slid down. Suddenly I was bare, and nothing in the world felt more real. For a heartbeat he just stared.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said on a groan. The sound completely wrecked me.
