That Secret Crush Page 13
“Say it a little louder next time,” I whisper, glancing around. “And that’s not romantic—that’s being a sexual deviant.”
“Sexual deviant?” A hearty laugh pops past his lips. “If I’m a sexual deviant, then you’re Satan’s mistress after the blow job you gave me this morning.”
“Reid,” I hiss.
“What?” He shrugs. “That was some good sucking, babe. Nearly sucked me to my knees.”
“Oh my God.” I go to pack my things, but the devil of a man grabs my wrist and pulls me onto his lap, right in front of everyone in the coffeehouse. A few people turn, watching us with wide eyes; others just ignore us altogether. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth.
He cups my cheek and draws my face close to his. “Trying to make it into the newspaper as the most romantic guy in town.” He presses just a whisper of a kiss across my mouth, teasing me, taunting me. He knows how much I get lost in his kisses, and he’s using that to his advantage.
When he pulls away, I run my tongue across my lips, tasting his blueberry coffee. And even though we’re in public, in goddamn Snow Roast no less, I can’t seem to pry myself off his lap, not when he makes me so completely happy.
“You’re not playing fair, Knightly. You can’t kiss me like that and think I don’t want more.”
“Do you want more?”
“You know I do.”
“Then take it,” he says, challenge in his voice.
“People will take pictures, sell them to the newspaper. We’ll be the talk of the town. Tales will be spun about us, and an innocent kiss in Snow Roast will quickly turn into a sexual encounter on the espresso machine. You know how things get out of hand.”
“As long as they make my penis seem even bigger than it already is, I’m cool with anything.” His free hand wanders up the back of my shirt, his warm palm pressing against my spine.
“Do you know how juvenile that sounds?”
“Hey, if you want, I can put in a good word for your boobs. Instead of mosquito bites, I can ask them to make some embellishments.”
“What?” I pinch his side. He squeaks and laughs at the same time. “I do not have mosquito bites. Last night you practically gagged on them.”
“Look who’s twisting the truth now. You’re hanging out with me too much, Roberts.”
“Yeah, maybe I should do something about that. Maybe call off our little get-together tonight. Not sure I’ll make it to the houseboat.”
“What?” He pouts. “But I bought sexy candles. They smell like man.”
“As appealing as that sounds, I think I’ll have to pass.” I rub my thumb over his jaw and down his neck as he leans in for another kiss.
“Come on, I’ll bring the good tongue action.”
“Oh, the good tongue action. What have I been getting then? Mediocre?”
“Slightly above average. I have some tricks up my sleeve I’ve been meaning to show you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He shifts me on his lap so I can feel just how excited he is to have me there. Men. They’re impossible.
“Fine, don’t believe me.” His hands slide to the waistband of my pants, and his fingers slowly inch beneath it.
I stop him quickly.
“Don’t you dare.”
“What?” His smile is wicked. “I’m just trying to get my fill since you won’t come over tonight.”
He slips his hand farther down.
“Reid. I’m warning you. Not here.”
His grin widens. “Are you shy, Eve?” A few more inches. “You didn’t care when I had my hand down your pants on the dance floor. So why now?”
“Reid . . .” He tickles my backside, and I nearly fly off his lap while laughter spills from him, filling the coffee shop. “I hate you so much.”
“No you don’t.” He continues to laugh, pinching my chin with his forefinger and thumb, lowering my mouth to his. “Just say you’ll come over tonight, and all of this will be over.”
“Blackmail.”
“I’m not ashamed. Come over tonight. I want to show you how twisted my tongue can get.” His tongue flicks out against my lips, and my legs clench together from the sheer thought. Ugh, how I wish he didn’t have this effect on me.
“Fine,” I mutter, giving in way too easily. “But if there’s no twisty tongue action, I’m leaving.”
“Trust me, babe,” he whispers. “There will be so much twisty tongue action that you’ll be screaming my name, begging for release.”
A girl can only hope.
“Reid, please,” I moan, my hands strapped above me, my legs spread across the bed, and Reid’s head between my thighs.
“Mm, I love when you beg.” He flicks his tongue across my clit and then pulls away, watching as my body writhes up and down, almost thrashing as I try to ease the ache pounding through my very core.
“I’m so close. I need to come.”
His hand presses against my stomach. “I understand that, babe, but I’m just going to hang out here for a second.”
Reid wasn’t kidding when he said twisty tongue action. For the past five minutes, he’s been swirling his tongue in all different directions, applying pressure to my clit, giving me the best buildup to an orgasm I’ve ever experienced.
Sparks of pleasure shoot up my limbs as excitement builds and builds at the base of my spine to the point that tears are welling in my eyes.
Breasts heavy, nipples taut from his continuous pinching, I’m past aroused and ready to tip over the edge into the oblivion any second.
Why I thought tying my arms to the headboard was a good idea I’ll never know, because I have zero control. But God, does it feel so good.
Spreading my legs even wider, I thrust my pelvis toward his mouth, but he simply presses sweet kisses up and down my inner thighs.
“I can’t take it any longer,” I say, losing my last vestige of cool. “Please, Reid.”
“Patience, Eve. I love seeing you like this, and I want to soak it all in.”
“You’re tormenting me. I’m so fucking ready, Reid. Please. I’m wet, throbbing, aching for your cock. Please, just fuck me.” The words fly out of me.
He growls and reaches to the nightstand, ripping open a condom and sheathing himself in a matter of seconds.
Thank God.
On his knees, he leans forward and takes one of my nipples into his mouth while he enters me.
Yes.
He’s so amazing.
Everything about this man makes me ache. His voice, the way he walks, the way he can just reach out and tweak my nipple without even thinking about it. He’s confident in the bedroom, protective but also commanding with every one of his movements. There’s a reason I crushed on him for so long.
As he slides, smooth as velvet, inside of me, I watch as his well-defined abs ripple with each inch he takes until he’s fully inside. He abandons my breast and lifts my hips up off the mattress, holding my bottom half in the air as he pumps into me.
Slowly at first, he develops a mind-numbing rhythm that teases me, builds on the throbbing ache in my core. And then, his pace picks up; his hips swivel into mine, sparking a spot inside me that shoots a bolt of lightning right up my spine.
I clutch my bound hands together and thrust up as he thrusts in and hits that spot again.
“Yes, oh fuck, Reid, right there.”
Again, he pounds into me.
And again.
And again, until a wave of raw bliss sweeps through me. My mouth is open, but no sound comes out as my body shakes in Reid’s hands. I grind against him, my orgasm possessing me, as he comes too, his body stilling, his grunts spurring me on.
It feels like our orgasms last forever until we both slowly float back to reality, small spasms here and there racking through the both of us. Reid reaches up and unties my hands. I quickly wrap my arms around him and bury my head in his warmth, seeking solace from the insane ride my body just went through.
Gently, he rubs my back, his body still connected with mine. “Hey, are you okay?” His voice is soft, soothing.
I nod against him.
“Are you sure? I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”
I shake my head, not able to voice anything.
He lifts my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. I can feel the tears that want to spill over. I try to count to ten, holding them back, not wanting to seem like the lunatic girlfriend who cries after really intense sex.
“Hey, what’s going on? Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I squeak.
“Did I upset you? I’m sorry if I—”
“Everything was perfect.” I press a kiss against his lips. “Just perfect.”
“Okay,” he drawls out. “Then why are you so upset?”
“I’m not upset. I just . . .” I take a deep breath to prevent any stammering. I need him to know what he means to me, what this means to me. “I just . . . I really like you, Reid.”
Satisfaction curls his mouth as he snuggles in closer, his large, sinewy body enveloping me. His voice blissfully happy, he says, “I like you a lot too, Eve.”
And with that, I fall asleep in his arms.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
REID
ALERT: NEW LOVE IS BLOOMING IN THE SNOW
Reid Knightly and Eve Roberts—a couple?
There have been mumblings of a possible romantic romp between the second-to-youngest Knightly and his best friend’s sister, Eve Roberts, but that’s all they were, mumblings among our town’s finest.
Rare sightings, here and there, of them talking closely.
A playful fight in the snow.
An unreliable and drunk source reported that they danced at the Lighthouse Inn one snowy night. But there’s been nothing concrete until now.
That’s right, Port Snow. Hold on to your loins and find yourself a comfortable surface to swoon onto. We have it on great authority that Eve Roberts (26) and Reid Knightly (26) have been spotted at the very popular Snow Roast, not only canoodling but also making out with intensely wandering hands. Let’s just say Reid Knightly was fishing for more than just lobster.
We’re not sure how long this little tryst has been going on, but we do know the hens around town have their eyes open for any future sightings.
We can honestly say that this is one coupling we are very happy about. After all, who doesn’t love a little friend-to-lovers, best-friend’s-sister romance?
But does this mean the infamous curse has been lifted for the once aspiring chef turned sexiest fisherman in Port Snow? Only time will tell.
Shaking my head, I fold the article and stick it in my back pocket as I let out a low chuckle. Eve was right; it’s absolutely ridiculous. And “aspiring” chef? Pretty sure I was a chef.
Fucking Port Snow and the nosy bastards who live here.
I check the time on my phone and then stare down the hall of my parents’ house toward the front door. I parked it at the dining room table, not just so I can keep an eye on the entryway but so I could also enjoy a nice piece of leftover cherry pie. My dad isn’t the only one who knows how to bake—my mom makes the best pies ever.
Dad wanted to take me out to eat and talk, but I told him meeting at the house was fine. Honestly, I think he wanted a public setting so I couldn’t walk out on him again, but I wanted neutral ground in case he said something that pissed me off.
I remember Eve’s words and resolve to have an open mind about what he’s going to say—and to be grateful for his love and support. I’m going into this meeting with the best attitude I’m capable of mustering.
It helps that right before I left for my parents’ house, I had Eve up against the wall of her apartment. Her moans are still fresh in my ears.
That fucking woman. I swear to God, being inside of her is something magical. I’ve never experienced anything like it. The way she claws at me, her moans, her unbridled passion. It’s like I’m drunk on her, and yet I can’t quite get enough.
She likes me a lot, and fuck if the sentiment isn’t returned in full force. I have a feeling I like her too goddamn much.
I shovel a scoop of pie in my mouth and shoot her a text. The girl is always on my mind.
Reid: I can still smell you on me.
The Inn must not be busy because she texts right back.
Eve: Good or bad?
Reid: Really good. What’s your perfume?
Eve: It’s called Sex Addict.
Reid: Really?
Eve: No, LOL. It’s Ralph Lauren.
Reid: I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you wore a perfume called Sex Addict. I would be cool with that.
Eve: So glad you approve. If we’re exchanging confessions, I can still feel the burn of your scruff on my inner thighs.
Reid: That’s hot.
Eve: Please don’t tell me you’re texting me this in front of your dad.
Reid: He’s not here yet. My mom had some leftover cherry pie that I’ve helped myself to though.
Eve: Happen to pack any up for your girl?
Reid: I can. Want some pie, babe?
Eve: Yes, please. XOXO
The front door opens, and my dad comes bursting in, shaking his coat off his shoulders as he strides into the kitchen, grumbling about the chill in the air. It’s still cold for the time of year, but that’s the unpredictability of Maine weather. One day it’s beautiful, the next day you’re freezing your nipples off.
Pocketing my phone, I push my now-empty plate to the side, making a mental note to grab a slice for Eve before I leave, and give my dad a wave as he approaches.
He adjusts the sleeves of his flannel. “Christ, it’s cold out. I don’t think my old bones can take the weather. I’m going to become a snowbird, and that’s final.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah right, Dad. You would never leave Port Snow for more than a week. This town makes your blood pump.”
He takes a seat and plops his beefy forearms on the table. “Why the hell does it have to be so cold?”
“Maybe because you live in one of the northernmost states. Could be worse, though. Could be Alaska.”
“Thank God for small miracles.” He sighs and nods at the empty pie plate. “Your mom outdid herself.”
“So fucking good. Promised Eve a slice.”
“So things are still good with her? I heard some rumblings from the elders this morning down at the general store about you two. They were saying you were being indecent at Snow Roast. Getting a little handsy?”
Chuckling, I nod. “Yeah, we might have gotten ‘handsy’ at the coffee shop and outed ourselves.” I play with the fork on my plate, moving it over a pile of leftover crumbs. “I hated being quiet about the whole thing. I know she wanted to keep it between us, but hell, keeping anything secret in this town is basically impossible, so I just went for it.”
“How did she react?”
I think back to that night, the way she writhed beneath me and what was probably the most intense orgasm of my life—of both our lives.
I can’t help but smile. “She reacted well. Was a little nervous at first but then fell into it.”
“Good, good.” He drums his knuckles across the table, and I know things are about to get serious. “So about the other day.”
I hold up my hand. “Before you say anything, I want to tell you I’m sorry for walking out. I shouldn’t have done that. Things have just been tense for me lately, and I hate talking about my future because honestly I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“I can understand that,” he says, voice sincere. “But I didn’t want to harp on you. I actually wanted to talk to you about an opportunity.”
“Dad, I love you, but I really don’t want to work with Willy.”
He hesitates, blinking a few times. “It’s
not with Willy, Reid; it’s an opportunity to work with me.”
“At the Landing? But Griffin’s in charge.”
“Not at the Landing. This is a new opportunity.”
“New? What are you planning on doing? Opening a restaurant?” I laugh, but when his face grows serious, my stomach somersaults on itself.
“Yes.”
“Wait, what?”
“You know the warehouse right next to the Landing? Where we used to make our T-shirts before we outsourced them? I want to do something with the space, and the best idea I could come up with is a restaurant. It’s the perfect location, looks over the harbor, and the Landing’s right next door, so people can get treats and souvenirs after. It’s at the center of town and is big enough for a gourmet industrial kitchen, a bar, and a good amount of seating with the possibility of extending into the water with some outdoor seating as well. I’ve already had an architect look at the space and draw up some initial blueprints for renovation.”
I don’t think I would be more shocked right now if my dad came out and told me he’s not my real father.
Or if he ripped off his flannel and started belly dancing.
Or if he told me he’s prone to wearing titty tassels to bed because he likes to bedazzle himself for a good night’s sleep.
A restaurant? He can’t be serious—can he?
The space is kind of perfect if I truly think about it, but extending into the water?
“You have blueprints?”
“Initial ones, so things can still be moved around. I want an experienced eye to look over them, and that’s where you come in.”
“You want me to consult on the space?”
Lowering his head, he chuckles. “I want you to run the restaurant, Reid. Cook, design, plan. I want to be a silent partner and eventually have you take over the entire thing.”
Holy.
Shit.
I lean back in my chair, stunned.
This was not the direction I thought this conversation was going to take.
Never in a lifetime would I have thought my dad was going to want to open a restaurant . . . with me.
“But I don’t cook anymore.”
“Yeah, and it’s about damn time you stop with that bullshit.” He clenches his fist and then pounds his thick finger into the table as he enunciates every word. “I didn’t let you get your GED at seventeen and then work my rear end off to put you through culinary school just so you could tell me that the best chef I know doesn’t cook anymore. That’s bullshit and you know it.”