Feel the Rush: A Hard Feelings Novel (InterMix) (16 page)

An all-too-familiar motorcycle was parked along the side of the road in front of the restaurant. The same motorcycle that claimed nearly half of her good dreams over the last week—but it was also the same motorcycle that drove off and left her, breaking the small fraction of her heart that she opened up to him—to Reed.

Meagan’s head snapped forward as her eyes scanned the open room, looking for him.

“You okay?” Jason asked, following her gaze as it circumnavigated the restaurant.

“I’m . . . not sure.”

Then she saw him.

Reed stepped into the room from the waiting area and it was like a magnetic pull forced his eyes to find her—because it didn’t take but one single blink and they were on her.

He didn’t smile, he didn’t wink, or do any of the other common Reed antics—he just walked toward her. Even from a distance she could see that his jaw was set tight, his posture straight and determined. It was intense, and paired with the unknown, with the unpredictable storm that seemed to have taken over his eyes, it was terrifying, but only because she couldn’t look away.

She felt a palpable tension emit from Jason, and although her eyes were fixated on the man who was holding her prisoner with the raw power he held in his gaze, she could see a slight movement from the corner of her eye as Jason weaved his arms across his chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she heard him mumble under his breath. Meagan didn’t respond, she just slid her chair back and stood, bracing herself for whatever was coming her way. Reed was a wild card, she already knew that.

He stopped in front of the table—no, it was more like he slammed to a stop as his chest collided with her, his hand snaking around her waist, pressing into her lower back, bringing her in tightly to him. His shoulders curved forward as he looked down at her, once again hovering over her like he always seemed to do, overwhelming the proximity of space between them.

He rested his other hand on her neck, his palm splayed out on the side, the warmth from his skin seeping into her pores as he ran the pad of his thumb across her lips.

He wasn’t Mr. Safe. He was Mr. Thrill, Mr. Playful, and Mr. Impulsive all rolled into one—and he was wearing her down bit by bit with the tip of his finger as it feathered across her bottom lip.

She tilted her head back to look at him—to see his eyes . . . to tell him to leave. “Reed—”

The word barely finished leaving her mouth before his lips crushed onto hers. He wasn’t just kissing her, he was claiming her, taking her with his mouth, which was consuming her in a way she was craving, in a way that she needed—in a way that she needed from him.

His hand slid up her back and gripped the back of her neck, tilting her head slightly so he could deepen the kiss. Her own hands weaved around him, holding him to her as if she was afraid he would turn and walk away if she didn’t.

A soft moan of relief hummed against her mouth as Reed’s shoulders relaxed and he melted against her—and held her even tighter.

She became breathless and her fingers ached with the need to reach out and touch him—all of him. She was lightheaded, a sure result of the mixture of wine and the intoxicating taste of Reed’s mouth. A shifting feeling swayed around her heart, it almost hurt—but she welcomed it completely, because it was Reed. It was him finding his way back in. And as much as that scared her, and as much as she knew she’d probably pay for it down the road, she didn’t care—not at that moment.

Reed’s lips stopped moving over hers, but he didn’t pull away. He stayed right where he was, his forehead pressing against hers, his hands molding against her body, and his lips skimming the tops of hers. “Hey, sugar.”

It was like the little bubble he surrounded her with had popped. She could suddenly hear the soft conversations blend around her from the other people dining. She could smell the aroma of delicious food in the air, and she could feel Jason’s eyes burning a hole through her.

She backed away and Reed’s brows pinched together.

“You need to leave,” she said. She kept her head up, her shoulders back, feigning her strength, because she was about two seconds from caving. Two seconds from wrapping her body around him again.

“What?” he asked. The look on his face was wounded and it crushed her.

“You heard her, man,” Jason said, standing up from his chair.

Reed lowered his gaze to Jason and Meagan flinched. That was one look she never imagined Reed could possess.

“Just go, Reed.” Her voice betrayed her and the subtle crack caught his attention.

The corners of his mouth started to rise. That half smirk paired with the lift of one eyebrow had an effect on her she wished she could hide from, because his cocky smirk only got bigger. “You sure you want that?” His low Southern drawl bathed her in warmth and she had to fight back a shiver. He stepped closer.

She didn’t move, she didn’t respond, she just held his eyes.

His smile dropped but there was a challenge in his eyes, like he was daring her to go with him, as if he could feel her body’s desire to throw herself back against him. But she couldn’t.

She breathed in a steadying breath.

Slowly, he grinned.

And she melted.

“Okay, Meg, I’ll go,” he said before shooting another lethal glare at Jason. When he looked back at her his eyes softened around the edges. “But I’m not done with you.”

Chapter Fifteen

The entire drive back to her apartment was tense. She had apologized to Jason more times than she could possibly count. He was sweet and comforting, and if she was still keeping that checklist, she could add understanding to the very top. But she had thrown that list out the window the second Reed walked into that restaurant. He claimed a piece of her that she wasn’t ready to admit to, but when he wrapped her in his arms, she was done for. No matter how many things on that list she was able to cross off, Jason would never be Reed. He would never give her that panicky feeling in her chest the moment before he kissed her. Not like Reed did.

Reed made her want to hold her breath and shut her eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you to your door?” Jason asked as he pulled into one of the parking spaces in front of her building.

She tilted her head and smiled. “I’m okay, thank you. And thank you for being so great about . . . well, everything. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I got to see you in that sexy dress and watch your cheeks flush as you got tipsy. It might not have panned out how I hoped, but I’d say it was worth it.”

Her head tilted down. “Thank you.”

He reached over and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. He softly kissed her knuckles before lowering her hand back down to the seat. It was a sweet gesture. He was trying to make her feel better when she should be the one groveling at his feet. “For what it’s worth, that guy is one lucky son of a bitch,” he said, looking past her to the apartment building.

Meagan looked out the window and her heart stalled. Reed was leaning against her door, his thick arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed directly at her. She was sure he couldn’t see her in the dark through the car window, but knowing that he was watching for her, waiting for her, sent a blush that not only hit her face, but every other place as well.

Meagan looked back over at Jason. “Why do you say that?”

He frowned, looking at her like it was the most obvious answer. “Because he’s got you.”

The sound of her heels echoed quickly through the quiet surrounding her as she walked down the walkway to her apartment. She felt her heart pick up the pace and fall into rhythm with the soft click of her steps.

Reed leaned away from the door as she got closer. She was nervous, her chest felt like it was constricting around her lungs, making it nearly impossible for her to breathe.

She soaked him up as she stepped in front of him. His light blue T-shirt pulled against his chest and hung just below the waist of his worn, tattered jeans. She loved the way he looked in jeans and his brown flip-flops. She smiled.

“Does that smile on your face mean you’re happy to see me?” he asked, his eyes raking over her appraisingly. He had never been ashamed to look at her. Never once.

She sighed. “I’m always happy to see you, Reed.” No matter how mad she was at him, she couldn’t help it.

His face contorted in confusion.

“You shouldn’t have come to the restaurant and you—”

“I’m not sorry, Meg,” he interrupted. “I’ll never be sorry for any moment that I get you pressed against me. Do you know how hard it was for me to leave that restaurant without dragging your ass along next to me? It took every single ounce of restraint I had not to pick you up in my arms and carry you away from him.” The muscles of his jaw started working beneath his scruffy face. “Especially with you in that damn dress.” His stare grazed her skin, physically heating the path it took, and regardless of the fire that had set flames to her skin, she shivered.

“You told me to go, so I went. But I will never walk away from you willingly.” His feet took one step toward her and her pulse picked up. His chest lingered near her beasts and she instantly craved the feeling of it pressed against her.

His fingers slipped through her hair and his palm rested on the side of her cheek. “Never again,” he said, his voice low.

She held his eyes, waiting for something to pass through them that would bring her back to solid ground, because she was sinking fast. She was anchored to him, and she was sinking. But nothing in his eyes told her anything other than the words he just spoke.

She sighed and leaned her face into his hand. She was done fighting it. She might hate herself for this down the road, hell, she might hate herself for this in the morning, but she didn’t care anymore.

His lips pulled up ever so slightly as she molded her check to his palm. Before she could even register what had happened, he had his hand wrapped around hers and was pulling her toward his apartment.

A slight thrill washed over her from the intensity of his movements. Urgent, determined. No more words were spoken between them—and the silence alone spoke volumes. What was there to be said that wasn’t being told in the way his fingers curled around her hand, the way he led her up the walkway, making sure to keep little distance between their bodies, or the way he looked at her from the side, as if her very presence was rocking him.

When Reed stepped up to his door, she leaned against his back, her hand still held firmly in his. She waited patiently behind him as he fumbled for his keys and turned the lock. He stepped inside and Meagan’s feet helplessly followed—a marionette to her puppeteer.

The place smelled of him—clean, spicy, and masculine. She breathed in deep, taking his scent into her lungs.

Reed’s arm reached around her waist and pushed the door closed. The air stiffened around them, thick and heavy, coated with anticipation as Reed’s eyes sank into hers. He held them there for a moment—a transparent need possessing her—then his large hands dug into the flesh of her hips. He lifted her up with an ease that shocked her and slammed her back against the wall.

“I know I’m no good for you, baby,” he breathed as he pressed his mouth to her ear. “But I want you. I want you so fucking bad it’s selfish.” Her spine straightened as he used the force of his own body to pin her in place. “You do something to me that twists me up.” He ran both hands down the front of her neck—the pressure anything but light—over her breasts, and down her stomach, until they reached the hem of her dress. In an instant it was around her hips and he was lifting her legs around his waist. He leaned forward and swiped his lips across her jaw. “I can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

She felt so bare, so exposed—nothing but a thin strip of fabric covering her as her legs clung to him. “I want you too,” she confessed, and she felt his lips tighten into a smile as they lingered on the skin below her ear.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

In the very next breath his mouth connected with hers, his teeth pulling her bottom lip into his mouth. She felt like she was strapped on a roller coaster, her feet dangling over the edge. It’s that fear, that feeling as you’re
click, click, click
ing up to the top. It was that feeling that had you begging to get off, wondering why in the world you climbed on in the first place. Then when you reached the top, there was that split second of pause, that one flash of a moment where you could see the ground below and you’d think, “This is it.”

This was it.

He was claiming her. He was breaking down the walls and strapping her in. He was lifting her, taking her to a place she’d never been before. But then there was that moment—he pulled away from her, his gaze penetrating her to her core, and he smiled. It was that crooked lift of the lips, that spilt second of pause where she felt the need to lift her hands in the air and give into the ride he was about to take her on.

Her hands tore at her dress, desperate to remove it from her heated body. She shifted, squirming as she pulled the material up. Reed’s hands graciously came to her rescue and he yanked the dress over her head. She needed out of that damn constricting bra too, she needed to feel his hands roam over her bare skin. She wanted to feel her sensitive nipples roll through the rough pads of his fingers. She needed his hot mouth to cover them, then to cool them.

It was like he read her mind. He reached behind her and with one flick of his fingers removed her bra from her body.

Meagan’s hands wound around his shoulders and she bunched his T-shirt in her hands, balling it up until it coiled at his neck. His mouth left her collarbone, where he had more than likely left a couple of marks, and he ducked his head, allowing her to pull his shirt off.

“Reed,” she pleaded, causing him to lift his eyes to hers.

Without saying a word, he slid his forearms under her ass and carried her the few strides to the couch, depositing her on the cool leather. There was a stillness lurking in his eyes. Like the calm beneath the storm. All that controlled, intense power was forming a rotation, and she was just waiting for the funnel cloud to form.

“Raise your hands above your head.”

She did.

“Keep them there, don’t move.”

She didn’t.

The whole time he was barking out his aphrodisiacal demands, he examined her body, gauging her physical responses—her reactions.

Seemingly satisfied, he unbuttoned his jeans, stepping out of his clothes. His shins hit the edge of the couch as he stood above her. Her eyes lingered over his body. The broad width of his shoulders, the impressive roll of his biceps, the hard ridges and valleys of his stomach, the deep V of his hips, the hard swell of his cock. He looked delicious and she wanted to rise up and wrap her mouth around him.

But she didn’t.

She stayed on her back, her hands above her head.

His knee fell to the couch, and her legs opened for him, making room for him to settle between. But instead he leaned over her and grabbed her wrists, which were extended over her head, curling his fingers tightly, holding her in place.

“You’re mine,” he said, his mouth levitating above hers.

There was a spike in her heartbeat. . . .

“Only mine.” His mouth lowered to her breast and he pulled her nipple into his warm mouth.

A catch in her breath . . .

“Tell me,” he said, but it wasn’t a demand—it was a plea. His fingers pushed aside her panties and leisurely entered her, softly, slowly stroking her as his grip on her wrists tightened.

Then a blistering rush of arousal . . .

She exploded around his fingers, her orgasm taking her by surprise as her muscles clamped down on him. She cried out and writhed beneath him, her fingers digging into the leather of the couch above her head.

Reed released her wrists. “Good girl,” he said, that pixilated smirk splitting his face.

He pulled the lace from her hip and discarded it on the floor before he lifted her from the couch and sat her down on his lap. She wiggled above his cock as he held it in his hand and rubbed it over her all-too-sensitive clit. She squirmed.

“Hold still.”

“You’re demanding,” she teased. But she liked it.

His brows lifted, his hand bit into the flesh of her ass, the brown in his eyes soaked up the gold flecks that spattered in them, and his addictive mouth—it was almost a sin. “You make me this way,” he said, his voice rattling her as he continued to rub his cock down the center of her, never letting it reach her entrance.

Meagan leaned over and swept her tongue across his taunting bottom lip. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

A growl reverberated in his chest, tickling her skin that was pressed against it. “I’ve never needed this before, baby. I’ve never felt the need to take what I need to be mine. But you— I saw you leave, I watched you walk away. . . .”

His hand left his cock and grabbed her hip, lifting her, positioning her, then he slowly lowered her onto him.

She was so slick, so hot, that her body encased him easily. Her head rolled back and Reed’s mouth brushed the center of her throat. She lifted slightly, needing to move, needing to feel him stroke the ache that was clinging to him. But his hands gripped her tightly, holding her down—making her take all of him. She flinched—overwhelmed—the sharp sensation of him so deep inside her, stealing her breath. But she knew he needed this.

“You were jealous?” she asked, slinking her hands around the back of his neck.

“I was pissed.” He lifted her until her opening ringed the tip of his cock, then he thrust her back down on him, evoking a sharp intake of air into Meagan’s lungs from the surprise. Then he lifted her again. . . .

“I was pissed that I let you walk away.” And again . . .

He was so different with her, not like the other times. This time is was almost primal. He was staking his claim, making her his own—and she wanted it.

He lifted her again, only this time so slowly it was almost agonizing. She clinched around him. The feel of him sliding against her as her body rose off of him caused a shudder to rake through her back. His fingers squeezed her hips and lowered her back down on him—hard and deep, forcing her to take all of him that she could.

Then he held her there. His hands pinned her to him, preventing any movement from her hips—stilling her body as he took up the tight space inside her. It was fulfilling and overwhelming.

“I’m impulsive. I do what feels right in the moment, regardless of the consequence. I thought leaving without you that day at the cabin was the right thing to do. I had to leave. Seeing you with Addie wrapped in your arms brought every fucking thing you pictured for yourself front and center in my line of vision.” His eyes closed, and even though she couldn’t see the emotion submerged in them, she could feel it. His shoulders tensed and his chest expanded with his deep breaths. “I was scared of letting you down. But when you walked away from me tonight, the consequence hit me hard. That consequence was you—losing you.”

Her mind was reeling with his words. “You didn’t let me down until you left.”

His forehead fell to hers. “I know, and I’m sorry.” His hands left her hips and he held her face between his hands as she took over the delicious rhythm he set in place, rolling her hips up, then lowing herself hard.

“I won’t walk away from you again unless you tell me to go.” His fingers threaded through her hair and he wrapped the thick strands in his palms. “And even then,” he breathed, moving his lips to hers. “I can’t promise that I will be able to.” Then he tugged his hand back as his mouth crushed hers. Her scalp pricked from the blunt sensation, and an incisive gasp bounced between their connected mouths. He used his hands to hold her head in place as he explored the side of her neck, the dip in her throat, the ridge of her collar, and the swell of her breast. She was confined to his hands, her body subject to his mouth. It was blissful torment.