Page 57 of I'm Yours

He pulls his hand away only to slide it around my shoulders, tucking me against his chest. “Not my parents’ house.”

“You were worried about me?”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“What about Emmy?”

“My parents are home with her. She’s sleeping, as she should. But thank you for asking about her.”

“Of course.”

“You looked freaked out when I got here.”

“Because I saw a footprint in the dirt that was spilled when the pot was tipped over.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. “Have you had trouble here before?”

“No.” It’s not a total lie, though I do feel a little bad that I’m not being completely forthcoming with him about the strange feelings of being watched that I’ve been having lately. I assume it’s just a symptom of my overactive imagination though. No reason to worry anyone else when it’s most likely nothing.

“Good. You’d tell someone if you did?”

“Yup.”

He watches me but doesn’t push further. Instead, he leans over and kisses me on the forehead, lips lingering. “Scared the shit outta me,” he mumbles.

“Nothing to be scared of, Reed. I’m not some naïve little girl.”

“I know but…” He shakes off whatever he was about to say and I want to pull the words out of the air and let them cover me. His other hand slides up my thigh, moving my legs so they’re draped over his. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I’m always safe.”

“Good.” We sit in silence for several minutes, digesting everything that just happened. He blows out a breath and I look in his direction. Squeezing my thigh, he says, “Well, now that I know there’s no one trying to break into your place, I guess I should go.” But it doesn’t sound like he wants to leave at all.

I want to protest, too. I feel like we’ve been given a gift. I was awake because I was thinking of him and here he is. Sure, some asshole was maybe going to break into the Sanders’s lake house but they didn’t and I think Reed’s theory that the pot was broken when someone tried to run away by cutting through my yard is correct. It makes sense. It’s not like I have anything worthy of breaking and entering for. Everything in my house has been purchased on clearance or even second-hand. I’ve never cared about having the best brands or anything fancy. Locals know that, for the most part, because that’s what happens in small towns. People know strange stuff about your personal life.

“Thanks for checking in on me,” I tell him, leaning into his touch on my shoulder. His dark eyes grow impossibly darker and he rolls his bottom lip under his teeth.

“Always.”

His thumb rubs the bare skin on my leg, leaving goose bumps in its wake. How can such a simple touch feel like it’s so much more?

“Reed?”

“Yeah?”

I muster up all the courage I can and lean over, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. They part in surprise and just like earlier, our kiss starts slow and turns passionate in the snap of a finger. He pulls me over him so I’m straddling his thighs and I send up a little thank you to the creator of sweatpants. Not only do they visually not hide anything, I canfeeleverything, too. And it’s glorious. I try my hardest not to grind down on him but it’s impossible in the position that we’re in. I can’t help myself.

He groans into my mouth, tongue swiping against mine and tasting. Briefly I have a thought about morning breath or night breath or whatever it would be at this hour but the thought slips away before it has the chance to take hold. The way he’s kissing me tells me either my breath doesn’t taste like a pile of poo or he just doesn’t care. He cradles the back of my head, holding me in place while his other hand grips the flesh of my butt that’s only covered by a thin layer of panties. My breasts press against his t-shirt covered chest, the friction causing a delicious tremor to roll through my body. Both hands work together, his fingers clenching and flexing against me.

Memories assault me of our one time together. That night so long ago when we were under the moonlight, the only two people in the world. For a few hours, I let myself forget the life that had been handed to me. I allowed myself to be an eighteen-year-old girl who was in love with the boy who was in her arms. I’ve thought of that night more days than I can count. Dreamt of it. Imagined it while I was in the arms of a different man.

And being back here with Reed in this moment, I understand why the memory stuck with me all these years. Because nothing, no one, compares to the way Reed Sanders lights up my body. He trails his lips over my jaw and I stretch my neck, giving him the access that I know will help me get exactly what I want most. He sucks on the sensitive skin of my earlobe and I almost come undone when he combines the move with thrusting his hips up just slightly.

I didn’t forget his size. He was my first so at the time, I assumed they were all that big. I wasn’t one to watch porn so I hadn’t really seen any other penises before. But now I know better.

“Fuck, you taste good.”

I swivel my hips and grin when he groans, holding my hips in place. “Not yet, Sadie.”

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