Page 79 of Complete Me
“And?”
“And fucking.”
A blush blooms across my cheeks, and I know my face is flushed crimson. He’s told me this happens regularly here and that no one bats an eye, but is it the worst thing in the world that I’m curious?
“You’re curious, little fighter?”
“Possibly.”
“Get dressed. You want to go to a party? Let’s go to a party. But I’m warning you, if anyone touches you, I will remove their hands.”
I balk at him. “You aren’t serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious. Does that scare you?”
I know my answer before I say it, and that scares me more than anything else could.
“No.”
Reid slaps my ass as I scurry off the bed and into the connected bathroom. I have no real clean clothes here, living in Reid’s T-shirts and the skirt and plain T-shirt he got for me. The clothes had tags on them, so I know he could have gotten me more, but something tells me he didn’t want to give me a reason not to be in his clothes full-time.
I try to fix my hair the best I can, and with no makeup here and one hell of a bruise covering my cheek and a healing busted lip, I look at myself in horror, having a split second of second-guessing whether or not I want to go, self-consciousness creeping in like an evil bitch.
Reid walks in a moment later, standing tall behind me, hands resting on the counter on either side of my hips, caging me in. His mouth drops to my shoulder, kissing it softly.
“You’re beautiful. I’m the luckiest man in this building, and everyone is gonna be jealous.”
How is he always giving me exactly what I need without me having to ask for it?
Reid takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom, not giving me a moment to convince myself we shouldn’t go. I follow him as we leave the safety and comfort of his bedroom and walk down the stairs, the music coming so loud, the bass thumping through the floorboards.
We quickly reach the large main area, an open conceptspace that reminds me of a pool hall I went to once in college. A long bar fills one of the side walls, barstools lining the front of it. A guy who looks barely old enough to drink alcohol himself is working on making drinks for everyone behind it, filling cups from a keg, and pouring amber-colored liquid from bottles.
The air is thick with cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and leather, and I don’t hate it. Bodies are in every corner, filling up the space with leather vests and half-naked women. My eyes scan the room as Reid leads us over to the bar. Conversation and laughter are a low hum under the loud music, and the entire atmosphere is not at all what I was expecting. It’s much more laid-back and much less chaotic.
We find a familiar face sitting at the bar with his forearms resting on the glossy wood top, a beer between his hands. Reid takes a seat next to him, pulling me between his open legs and wrapping his arms around my waist, the flat of his hands low on my belly. I lean into his warm body, allowing him to wrap me in a possessive hold, secretly loving the claim he’s publicly making on me.
Rhys turns at our arrival, giving Reid a head nod and giving me a sultry, devilish smirk. He’s got the prettiest reddish-brown hair I’ve ever seen, slicked back and styled at the top, the sides shaved almost to the skin. He has a full beard like Reid that covers part of his mouth, and I’d bet my minuscule teacher salary that this man has no problems with the ladies.
“Glad to see you up and moving. You feeling okay?” he asks in a genuinely concerned tone.
“It’s going to take me some time, but I’m getting there. Better every day.”
“I’m sure my brother is taking good care of you.”
Reid’s hands flex over my stomach, reminding me of just how good he has been at taking care of me. In more ways than one.
“Oh, I have zero complaints in that department.”
“I don’t know, I think I could do better.”
Reid pulls me closer, my back flush against his chest now as he practically growls at his friend. I don’t want this to end in a fight, so used to how my four brothers handle their issues—with their fists—so I quickly change the topic to hopefully defuse the situation.
“How long have you two known each other?”
“We patched in together.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
