Page 72 of A Little Too Late
Reed lets out a string of whispered curses, his fingers cupping the back of my neck. Then he groans, low and guttural, and the sound sends a zap of electricity through my veins.
I’m living for this moment. When I close my eyes, my heart beats to the tune of firelight and snow-flecked kisses.
Above me, Reed curses again. I release him as he begins to haul me upward, lifting me off the floor, tossing me over his shoulder, and striding towards the bedroom.
I land a moment later, bouncing gently on the comforter. Reed’s hands are already unbuttoning my jeans. “Christ,” he whispers, revealing the matching red lace panties. “You’re killing me.”
Kicking off the jeans, I smile up at him. Then I roll, prying the comforter loose. “We have to take this off the bed. I happen to know how much these things cost.”
“I hope you paid up for the sturdy kind of headboard, because it’s about to get a workout.” He hoists his turtleneck over his head, and I get an action-packed view of his chest rippling.
Now he’s magnificently naked and climbing onto the bed. He covers my body with his and kisses me like… Well, like he’s missed me for ten years.
He kisses me deeply, and I arch up into his body. Then I run my hands up and down his back, trying to memorize the slide of his skin against mine. I should try to remember every detail of this time together. Because it won’t last.
But—even as my heart aches—I’m hoping against all odds that it will.
Sometime after midnight, Reed and I collapse into a satisfied heap. I relax against his body, drifting on my own thoughts. My mind turns, for some reason, to Block’s plot of land and what I might build there instead of a monstrosity of hotels.
In my mind’s eye, there’s a modest group of contemporary condos. They’d be constructed of natural materials, terraced toblend into the mountain. And the parking area would need to be camouflaged. Or—even better—underground.
“Food trucks. And an amphitheater,” Reed says sleepily.
I lift my head from his chest. “What?”
“The downtown development in Penny Ridge—it could be a good community space all year round, right? An amphitheater for concerts in the summer. And a drive circle for food trucks.”
I stare into his brown eyes for a long beat. “I was just mentally tunneling underground to hide the parking area.”
Reed smiles slowly. “I find you so attractive right now.”
“Likewise.” I run a finger across his bottom lip. “Tell me more about these food trucks, hunk.”
That’s how we end up staying awake far too long doing something even more dangerous to my heart than sex—we’re dreaming about the future. Ski lifts. Community spaces. A halfpipe. Nothing is too good for our imaginary utopia.
Eventually we pass out in his bed. I sleep like a rock until morning when a ringing phone wakes us both.
The ring tone is “Big Boss Man” by the Grateful Dead.
“That’s yours,” I slur into the pillow.
Reed groans. He doesn’t get up to answer it, though. He waits it out. And when it finally stops ringing, he lets out a sleepy sigh. “You know how I can tell I’m not twenty-two anymore?”
“Because you go to work in a tie? Because you use words on the phone like, ‘series B valuation’?”
He turns his head on the pillow and smiles at me. And I feel instantly warm inside. “That’s all true, but I was thinking about my stamina.”
“Hey—no issues there.” I’m sore in some places that I’d forgotten could be sore.
“Mmm.” He shifts his legs under the covers. “But these days my bad knee aches the morning after a workout.”
“By ‘workout,’ do you mean hoisting me up to Block’s window?” I ask. “Or do you mean the time you spent on your hands and knees while we were…” I clear my throat.
I can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “Both. Although I have no regrets.”
“That’s a relief.” I reach under the covers and slide my hand down his muscular thigh, feeling the hair crackle under my palm.
“A little to the left,” he says huskily.
