Page 67 of Rampage

"How are you feeling?" he asks, concern threading through his voice.

"Good," I answer honestly. "Different, but good."

His thumb traces my bottom lip, his expression turning serious. "Any regrets?"

I shake my head without hesitation. "None."

Relief softens his features, and he pulls me closer, tucking me against his chest where I can hear the steady rhythm of his heart. For several minutes, we simply exist together in the quiet morning, his hand stroking my back in long, soothing motions.

"I should make you breakfast," he murmurs against my hair. "You need to keep up your strength."

The protective care in his voice makes me smile against his skin. "Is that the doctor talking or the man?"

"Both," he answers, pressing a kiss to my forehead before reluctantly pulling away. "Stay here. I'll bring it to you."

Before I can protest, he slides from the bed, gloriously naked and not at all self-conscious as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips. I watch him move across the room, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin, the confident grace of his movements.

When he disappears into the hallway, I stretch languidly, taking inventory of my body's new sensations. There's a pleasant ache between my thighs, a feeling of having been thoroughly claimed that should frighten me after my history but instead feels like liberation.

I slip from the bed, wrapping myself in Reid's discarded t-shirt before padding to the bathroom. The woman who stares back at me in the mirror is someone I barely recognize—cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair tousled from Reid's fingers. I look… happy. The realization is startling in its simplicity.

When I return to the bedroom, I find my phone blinking with notifications. My stomach tightens instinctively. It's news about Frank, perhaps, or worse. With trembling fingers, I unlock the screen to find a message from Tiffany.

Federal prosecutor arriving to meet me at noon, I will keep you updated.

Relief washes through me, followed quickly by determination. Today we take the next step toward justice. Today we begin dismantling Frank's network.

The smell of coffee and bacon draws me from the bedroom. I follow it to the kitchen, where I find Reid moving with efficient grace between the stove and counter, his back to me. The domesticity of the scene makes my heart squeeze with an emotion I'm not ready to name.

He turns, sensing my presence, and his expression softens as he takes me in. "I was going to surprise you."

"Consider me surprised," I say, gesturing to the impressive spread he's preparing—bacon, eggs, toast, fresh fruit.

He crosses to me in two long strides. His eyes move slowly, taking me in as they travel over my bare legs beneath his shirt. Without a word, he slides his hands to my waist and lifts me effortlessly, as if I weigh nothing at all. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist, my arms circling his neck for balance.

"What are you doing?" I laugh softly, the sound turning to a gasp as his mouth finds the sensitive spot beneath my ear.

"Breakfast can wait," he murmurs against my skin, one large hand splayed firmly under my bottom, supporting my weight with ease. "I need to hold you first."

I notice now the soft melody playing from his phone on the counter, something slow and sweet that fills the kitchen with a soft rhythm. Reid begins to move, a subtle sway that carries us in a slow circle around the kitchen island.

"We're dancing?" I whisper, melting against him as his lips trail down my neck.

"Mm," he confirms, his breath warm against my collarbone. "Always wanted to dance with a beautiful woman in my kitchen."

His stubble grazes my skin as he presses open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder, making me shiver despite the morning warmth. We move together in perfect synchrony, his steps sure and measured as he guides us around the small space.

"I didn't know you could dance," I say, threading my fingers through his hair.

He looks up, eyes meeting mine. "There're a lot of things you don't know about me yet." His voice drops lower, rougher. "But we have time. All the time in the world for you to learn."

The promise in his words—of a future, of permanence—makes my heart swell. Reid continues our slow circuit of the kitchen, one hand supporting me while the other traces patterns on my back beneath the borrowed shirt.

"Is this real?" I whisper, the question escaping before I can stop it.

Reid pauses our dance, his expression serious as he studies my face. "This is the most real thing I've ever felt," he says, no hesitation in his voice. "You and me, this is real, Lily."

He captures my lips then, the kiss deep and thorough, a physical affirmation of his words. I lose myself in the sensation, in the solid strength of him against me, around me, holding me safe above the ground.

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