Page 15 of Wrecker

Taking a deep breath, I put his name in the back of my mind. Later. I’d deal with that fucker later.

Tossing Racer one last withering glare, I grabbed the food and went back to my room. Peyton was already tucked in, my shirt nearly swallowing her, her legs pulled up under the blanket.

“Eat,” I urged, handing her the plate. “Then sleep.”

Her eyes turned soft as she looked over her feast and then she smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

My hand itched to touch her, and I gave in to the impulse, brushing some of her black curls away from her face. I frowned at the dark circles under her eyes, hating the sight of her in any kind of distress.

While she picked at her food, I dragged my laptop to the loveseat and kept one eye on the screen and the other on her.

When she sighed contentedly and told me she was full, I took the plate and set it on my dresser. I turned back to tuck her in and realized she'd already fallen back asleep. Damn, she was gorgeous.

Deviant had sent some information to me, so I went back to work while I watched over her. Fox sent me a couple of updates on club business but didn’t ask me to leave Peyton, which I appreciated. He even sent a prospect up with dinner, though Peyton continued to sleep the rest of the day.

Later that night, I climbed into bed beside her, the heat of her body dragging something primal and vicious out of me. I wanted to roll over, pull her beneath me, and fuck her until neither ofus remembered our own names. Until she was well and truly claimed.

But she needed rest. And I wasn’t gonna fuck that up.

I lay still, eyes on the ceiling, every muscle tight. But she eventually shifted in her sleep, turning toward me and snuggling up close to my body. Her hand landed on my chest, and my fingers circled her wrist. My other arm was around her waist, holding her to me.

I finally relaxed. She was with me. Safe. Warm. Protected.

And mine.

Even if she didn’t know it yet.

6

PEYTON

Iblinked awake, acutely aware of the weight pressed against my back. I’d never slept with a man before, but I didn’t freak out because it could only be one person—Reid.

His warmth surrounded me, his woodsy scent filling my nostrils and providing me with a comfort I hadn’t expected. Which was probably why I slept so long.

After taking a nap yesterday morning and then passing out after lunch and sleeping through the night, I figured I’d be up before the sun. Yet somehow, I still felt groggy and heavy-limbed. After being knocked unconscious, it was as though my body decided now was the perfect time to rest in a way I hadn’t in too long.

I had a feeling it wasn’t just the exhaustion catching up with me. That it was because of Reid, too. Maybe being close to him was enough to flip a switch in my brain and let me shut down safely for a while.

Shifting slightly, I tried not to wake him and felt a tug in my shoulder. It was sore and tight, but not as bad as I expected. The pain was manageable—probably in large part because Reid wokeme up in the middle of the night to take pain meds and drink more water.

I let my eyes adjust, a small smile tugging at my lips as I scanned the room. The room was exactly what I’d expect for a guy like Reid—spartan but solid. And incredibly masculine…much like the man himself.

It was a good thing I’d been so tired when he brought me in here yesterday, because there wasn’t much furniture besides the bed—just a desk and chair, a small sofa, a bedside table, and a dresser. The lack of clutter left me with only the flat-screen television on the wall for distraction.

And Reid, while he was with me.

I rolled just enough to look over my shoulder, wincing at the sharp pain that lanced through it. Reid was on his side, one arm bent behind his head, the other resting loosely over my waist. The covers had slipped down to his hips, leaving his broad chest bare.

My eyes widened as I took in the black ink on his tanned skin. I’d gotten a small hint of his tattoos yesterday, but now they were fully on display for me.

I was fascinated by the designs inked on his shoulders and pecs, but it was the lettering running down his right side that practically begged my fingers to trace it. Blocky and unfamiliar, the characters went from beneath his ribs all the way down into the waistband of his sweats.

I had no idea what it said, but to my surprise, I had the urge to run my tongue over each letter.

Squeezing my eyes shut for a second, I wondered what the heck was wrong with me. Reid had literally pulled me from a collapsed building yesterday and probably hadn’t slept more than a few hours since…and here I was, fantasizing about licking my way down to his happy trail.

I swallowed hard and buried the urge deep. This was my first time feeling this kind of magnetic pull toward a guy, but the timing couldn’t be worse.

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