Page 122 of Dirty Rival

“The letter?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“I think I knew, but I was in denial,” I reluctantly admit.

“As did I. The fairytale of my mother keeping him human was obviously a lie. It doesn’t get easier, Carrie. You want them to be more.”

“You forced your father’s retirement. That had to have been hard.”

“Easier than you think. I was about to do it when he had his stroke. You’d think that would tame the bastard in him, but it didn’t.”

“How does Gabe feel about it?”

“Happy as fuck. He’s the one who convinced me to read the letter.”

“You needed convincing?”

“Yes. I did. I’m not one to do the out of sight, out of mind thing, but I didn’t want to know what I couldn’t change.”

I press my hands to his chest and listen to the thundering of his heart, absorbing how very human Reid “the asshole” has become. And I know from the thundering of his heart that while he seemed to speak easily, he has not. He doesn’t share these things about himself, but he has with me. “I’ve failed you.”

He arches a brow. “What does that mean, Carrie?”

“I was supposed to wake you up properly.” I press him to his back and slide down his body, kissing his chest, his cock already hard and pressing to my belly. “Good morning.”

“It most definitely is a good morning,” he says, as I ease lower and wrap my hand around his hard length.

I lick the tip of his cock. “Holy fuck, Carrie,” he murmurs, his voice low, gruff, affected.

I like affecting this man. I like making him feel as out of control in all the right ways as he makes me feel. I lick him again, and he draws in a subtle breath. I don’t want subtle. I suckle him, draw in just the soft head of his cock, and he lifts his hips. I don’t give him the “more” that action requests. I swirl my tongue around him and move my mouth from side to side. His hands go to my head, tangling in my hair. “Stop teasing me, Carrie.” It’s an order, but there is a desperateness to the low, rough command that’s exactly what I’m looking for.

I glance up at him and slowly take more of his shaft, my tongue traveling the underside of him as I do, sliding all the way to my hand that still grips him, and not gently. The look on his face is pure lust and arousal, and it affects me. I’m hot, wet, and my nipples ache. I suckle him and then start pumping my mouth, adding a little side back and forth movement, and his hand tightens on my hair, his hips lifting. His thigh where my hand rests tenses. He begins to thrust into my movement, and I can feel his urgency, his approach to that place of no return and yet he tries to pull me back.

“Carrie, stop or I won’t be able to,” he says. “Carrie.”

I don’t even think about stopping. He wouldn’t stop when I needed more. He wouldn’t stop when he wanted to please me. I feel the moment he stops fighting. The moment he is right there, and then over the edge. He spasms beneath my palms and the salty taste of his release touches my tongue and throat. I don’t pull back. I slow down, I ease him into completion, and when it’s over, when I know he’s completely sated, I let my hand fall away and my mouth leaves his body.

He drags me to him and under him. “Carrie.”

“Reid.”

“Come shower with me at my place. Stay with me tonight after the party.”

I feel no hesitation. “Yes. I just want to gather a few extra things.”

My cellphone rings on the nightstand. I shut my eyes. “It’ll be him,” I say, knowing he’ll know I mean my father.

He presses his forehead to mine. “Yes. It’ll be him.” He kisses my temple and rolls away, grabbing his clothes and heading to the bathroom. My phone stops ringing and I grab it, confirming that yes, it was my father. I throw away the covers, find my own clothes and dress.

Reid exits the bathroom and we stand on opposite sides of the bed. “Call him back, baby. You need to hear what he has to say, and I need to know you see me, and us, despite that.”

“I’m not sure I want to deal with this today. We’ve barely slept and tonight is important.”

“All the more reason we need this behind us.”

I hate that the bed is between us. I hate that I finally have someone in my life I want here, and my father is between us. “You’re right.”

“I’ll go downstairs and make us coffee.” He rounds the bed and kisses me, fast and quick on the lips and then leaves. I watch him disappear out of the door and the fact that he offers me this privacy matters. It’s him telling me that he needs my trust. It’s him telling me that I have his.