Page 89 of Older
His voice was soft gravel. Fear inched its way into his fury as his grip loosened and one hand slowly rubbed up and down my bicep. He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose.
I relaxed for a beat, lost to his touch.
And then I shook him off me.
Glancing both ways, I carefully made my way to the passenger’s side and flung myself into the vehicle. He followed. We sat together in silence before the engine revved to life, the windshield wipers swished back on, and he cautiously pulled the truck out onto the main drag.
Music spilled from the speakers, a popular eighties song. I fell back against the seat and closed my eyes, trying to ignore his proximity, trying to shove back all of the horrible images of Ladybug lost or injured in this blizzard as the wipers squeaked and my stomach pitched.
I only opened my eyes when we came to a stop and the engine died out, the sound of keys being removed from the ignition snapping me back to life.
My attention landed on a familiar apartment complex in front of us, and I frowned. “Why did you bring me here?”
He unbuckled his belt and pocketed the keys. “The roads are fucked. My place was closer.”
“But—” I didn’t have time to argue before he jumped out and shut the door.
There was no other choice but to follow him inside.
We made our way through the hallways, wordless, my nerves heightening when we reached apartment number seventeen. He unlocked the door and moved aside to let me enter.
Hesitantly, I stepped through the threshold, shivering from head to toe.
Am I staying the night?
Where will I sleep?
The door softly clicked closed and Reed slipped out of his jacket, toeing off his boots in the entryway. “We need to get you warmed up,” he said, eyeing me as I dallied in front of him.
My leggings were soaked through, my socks soggy from snow that had inched its way inside my boots. “I…don’t have a change of clothes.”
His eyes trailed me, a lazy pull from top to bottom. “Tara has some clothes she left here.”
I nodded, sweeping wet hair off my forehead. “Can I take a shower?”
“Not yet. You need to warm up gradually.”
My throat burned as I forced another nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
Our eyes held for a breath before he disappeared into one of the bedrooms and returned a minute later to find me trembling on his graphite-gray couch, my feet pulled up beside me.
Reed hesitated then moved forward, a lump of clothing and a towel draped over the crook of his arm.
I watched as he sunk to his knees in front of me and reached for my ankles, his fingers still cold as he carefully tugged the damp socks off my feet.
I gazed at him, unmoving. “What are you doing?”
“Warming you up.”
My lips parted to contest, but no words slipped through. I wasn’t used to being cared for, attended to with tender touches and soft caresses. So all I did was watch him as he used a bath towel to swipe the moisture from my frozen feet and calves.
Then he grazed his hands up my thighs and reached for the waistband of my leggings.
My heart pounded, breath hitching.
There was no hesitation, no awkward falters. He tugged the wet fabric down my legs, continued to dry me off, then slipped a pair of dry pajama pants over my feet. Two fuzzy socks followed, swallowing my toes painted in raspberry polish.
When my bottoms were secured, I slid them up all the way and Reed inched his body closer between my legs, hands extending toward the hem of my blouse.