Page 47 of Rampage

While Reid disappears into the bathroom, I slide between the sheets, their coolness a pleasant contrast against my heated skin. His bed is ridiculously comfortable, the mattress firm yet yielding, the pillows soft beneath my head. I breathe in deeply, surrounded by his scent, pine, leather, and something uniquely him.

I roll over and find a text from Jeremy.

Jeremy: Actually a random man came into the diner asking what happened to you and I let it slip.

Oh shit, that explains it.

I feel seriously sick to my stomach.

Me: When was this?

My hands are shaking while waiting for his response.

Jeremy: It was like a week ago, but I’m seriously kind of pissed off at the fact that you’re not coming to the wedding. I was going to ask for my money back while you were here, but you can send it on Cash App. Kind of selfish of you, isn’t it?

My mouth hits the floor at the change in him, and my eyes fill with tears.

The bathroom door opens, spilling light briefly before clicking shut. Reid crosses to the bed, his movements quiet despite his size. The mattress dips as he slides in beside me, his body radiating heat like a furnace.

I hand him my phone, and he growls under his breath reading the text message. “That fucker doesn’t deserve an ounce of guilt.”

For a moment, we lie there, not touching, a careful distance between us. Then Reid shifts, turning onto his side to face me in the darkness.

"Come here," he whispers, opening his arms.

I move into his embrace without hesitation, my head finding the perfect spot on his chest, my arm draping across his middle. His heart beats steadily beneath my ear, strong and reassuring. One of his hands settles at the small of my back, the other gently stroking my hair.

"Sleep," he murmurs against the top of my head. "I've got you."

In the safety of his arms, with his warmth surrounding me, sleep claims me almost instantly.

I wake slowly, consciousness returning in waves. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting the room in a soft golden glow. I'm still in Reid's arms, though our position has shifted during the night. He lies on his back, one arm around my shoulders, while I'm half draped across his chest, my leg thrown over his.

I lift my head slightly, taking the opportunity to study him while he sleeps. In repose, his face looks younger, the constant vigilance erased from his features. His dark lashes rest against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. A day's worth of stubble shadows his jaw, making him look rugged and impossibly appealing.

As if sensing my scrutiny, his eyes open, instantly alert. Blue eyes, clear as a summer sky, focus on my face with immediate recognition.

"Morning," he says, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," I reply, suddenly self-conscious about my position sprawled across him.

Before I can move away, his arm tightens around me. "Stay," he murmurs. "Just a little longer."

I settle back against him, enjoying the solid warmth of his body beneath mine. His hand traces lazy patterns on my back, each touch sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

"Sleep okay?" he asks, his chest rumbling beneath my ear as he speaks.

"Better than I have in years," I admit. "No nightmares."

His hand pauses momentarily on my back. "You have nightmares often?"

"Almost every night," I say quietly. "Except when I'm with you, apparently."

Reid shifts, rolling us gently so we're facing each other on our sides. His expression is serious as his fingers brush a strand of hair from my face.

"What are they about?" he asks, though I suspect he already knows.

I swallow hard, dropping my gaze to the space between us. "Frank. The other foster homes. Sometimes I dream I'm back there, trapped, with no way out."

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