Page 60 of Complete Me
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re so damn sexy.”
Jesus. When he talks like that, it’s almost as if he well and truly means what he’s saying. I know Reid isn’t a liar, I trust him with my life, but will he still want me after he has to come face-to-face with my family? Will I be enough for him?
“There you go again. Saying things that make this seem different.”
“It is different, Kins.”
“I want to believe you.”
“You trust me on everything but this?”
“I trust you, Reid. I’m ready to go if you are.”
He doesn’t push the topic, which I’m grateful for.
“Yeah, you just need these,” he replies, pointing to a leather jacket lying on the bed and a pair of boots on the floor in front of it.
“Let me guess, also my size?”
Reid shrugs, and I can’t help but smile. It’s unrestrained, and it feels so good. I pull on the black leather combat-style boots that come up to my ankles, and then he helps me into the jacket, batting my hands away as I try to zip it up.
“I know you can do it yourself, but let me anyway.”
I watch as he bends his knees so that he drops down several inches to make it easier on himself, and then his large fingers are slowly zipping up the jacket. I watch him the entire time, his eyes tracking the slow slide of his fingers up my body.
Once he’s satisfied, my eyes flutter closed as his lipsconnect with my forehead. Every time he does this, it sends a wave of emotions through me, mostly in my heart, making it gallop and leap, roaring to life at just the press of his lips in such a tender way.
“I’m sneaking you out the back so you don’t have to face anyone today. But they all want to meet you.”
“I need to thank them for letting me stay here. It’s not like me to be so rude.”
Reid chuckles under his breath as he pulls the door shut behind us. “Sweetheart, trust me, a bunch of bikers aren’t worried about your politeness.”
“Hearing it back, I guess it sounds silly. But still, I’m an outside guest you carried in here like a caveman, I should probably say hi and thank you.”
“If that’s what you wanna do, I won’t stop you.”
Reid and I walk down the stairs with my hand firmly in the palm of his, and into a massive kitchen where we quickly slip out a back door. The Washington summer air envelopes me immediately, and I tug on the neck of the leather jacket.
“I know it’s oppressive right now, but it’ll cool off once we’re moving.”
Reid swings his leg over his massive bike, steadying it between his knees with his hands on the wide handlebars. He’s wearing a pair of worn-in jeans, a black leather jacket that fits him like a glove, his thick biceps bulging at the hem of the fabric. His signature black combat boots are heavy against the ground, his jeans pushed up above them. The top half of his hair is pulled back into a bun with wisps breaking free and falling into his forehead and eyes. His looks alone give off strong bad-boy vibes, but that’s just skin deep. This man can be the softest, sweetest, most tender man I’ve ever met in my life.
And I want him.
Badly.
“I’ve never been on one before . . . well, except for the other day, but I don’t even remember how we got here, to be honest.”
“Sawyer never took you?”
“No. Said only one woman would ever be on his bike, and that didn’t include his sister.” I laugh.
“Sounds about right. Having a woman on the back of a rider’s bike is a big deal. I get why he’d keep it for Ivy.” There’s a long pause while I take in that new information and the fact that Reid is asking me to get on the back of his. I understand his need to have me on the front of it the other night, he was rescuing me, for fuck’s sake. But this feels different. It is different. “I see the wheels turning in your head. Come here,” he demands as he holds out his hand to me.
I obey, my body on autopilot, walking up to him and placing my hand in his. The size difference is drastic. The moment our skin touches, it’s like electricity flows through us, jolting me. He tugs me into his space, dropping my hand and wrapping his thick arm around my waist. My hand finds its home on the back of his neck, fingers threading through the hair that hangs loose.
