The Reality of You (23 page)

When the credits
started rolling, Reese stretched, a slice of his ripped stomach showing between
his T-shirt and jeans. “Bedtime?” he asked, a glimmer of anticipation in his
gaze.
 

Though the thought
of bed sent a zing down my spine, I said nonchalantly, “I suppose.”

At eleven fifteen,
it was early for a Saturday night, but yeah, I wasn’t interested in any more
movie watching. Yet this kind of felt weird, as if we’d been a couple forever,
eating takeout, watching movies, and then heading to bed.

The second we
entered his room, he attacked me with a hard kiss and his hands tugging at my
clothes.

Somehow, I dragged
myself back. “Wait, wait,” I said, and he cocked his head in question. I
reached for my bag on the dresser. “I have a surprise for you.”

He slowly let go of
my waist. “A surprise?”

I tried to nod
seductively over my shoulder. It probably came off more like me shaking my head
in enthusiasm as I slipped into his bathroom. After releasing my ponytail, I
shimmied in to the outfit I had searched online for during three lunch hours. I
had to pay a ridiculous amount for the thing to be shipped overnight.

Once I was finished,
a quick peek in the mirror nearly had me aborting the mission. But the push-up
bra did wonders for my chest. The matching underwear in black and pink were
half covered by the retro garter that went around my waist and clipped to
black, sheer stockings. The entire ‘40s pinup look was finished with a headband
bow in black and pink on my head. Part of me thought I looked ridiculous.
Another part of me thought I was smoking hot. Nervous as all hell, I forced
myself out of the bathroom to see what Reese thought of the ‘40s pinup look.

Hands tucked behind
his head, Reese lay on the bed, a sheet lying across his hipbones. He was a
picture that would definitely fuel my future fantasies.

When he heard the
door open, he pushed himself up on one elbow. “Hell, woman,” he said in a
growl. His wide eyes slowly devoured me as I took a cautious step into the
room. He sat up farther, noticing my hands clenched at my sides. “And you’re
nervous…” He visibly gulped then shot off the bed, stalking toward me so fast
that I couldn’t get enough of the gorgeous, naked sight of him.

He kissed me quick
and hard before leading me to the bed and lying me down. He followed me onto
the bed by crawling over me, all of that lovely muscled weight inches above me.
Bent over me, he paused as his gaze burned into my skin. He didn’t lower
himself. Instead, his lips and hands were relentless, tasting, nipping, and
wreaking havoc.

Eventually, after
his lips had slowly memorized every piece of skin showing while I trembled
beneath him, the outfit was removed, except for the garter and stockings. Then
his lips and tongue memorized everything that had been hidden. When I tried to
pull him to me, he caught my wrists, pressed them to the sheets above my head,
and continued his slow torture until I became certain that spontaneous
combustion was real.

When he let go of my
hands and braced himself over me, I pushed up, taking his face in my hands and
kissing him with the fire he had created in me. Then I quickly scooted down,
determined to make him as desperate as I was.

While I settled
under him, he stayed stock-still except for a deep breath that expanded his
chest. Holding on to a muscled hip and tipping my head back in the sheets, I
took the length of him in my mouth, tasting and caressing him with my tongue. A
deep moan—that spurred me on—escaped him. And then it was go time. The movement
of his hips above me, the sharp breaths he released, and the press of him
against the back of my throat were as sensual as his hands and lips had been on
me. We were both panting when Reese pulled away with a hiss and yanked me back
up to him.
 

Once he finally
hovered over me, arms straining, cock just the tiniest bit in me, I was tugging
at this arms and desperate for him to enter me. At the first gentle stroke, a relieved
sob escaped me.

For the first time,
everything remained slow. The tempo of his glide. A burning, languid kiss.
Hazel eyes roaming over my face. Strong hands cupping my head. Thumbs caressing
my temples. Lips tracing my chin. The slow, drugging pound of him in me. I
dissolved then solidified before dissolving again. Under his body and lips and
torturous rhythm, there was nothing in my world but Reese.

Afterward, he
removed the rest of the outfit and wrapped his body around mine. Enclosed in
his arms, I felt cozy and warm, but sleep eluded me while the soft cadence of
his sleeping breath filled the air. Something was bugging me, lying in the
recesses of my brain out of reach. Disjointed thoughts rolled through my head
until suddenly it hit me like the whack of a soccer ball upside the head.

Fangirl had been
totally absent today. Not one screech. Not one faint. Nothing. The realization
brought on fear. The absence of Fangirl meant that I was over my ridiculous
crush. It meant that, sometime over the past week, I’d begun to appreciate
Reese as a real person instead of someone untouchable. I had moved on from
Fangirl.

A knot caught in my
chest so tight that it became hard to breathe.

I was completely
fucked.

I
was
falling for Reese.

Chapter 26

My
eyes opened with the sun, despite Reese's motorized blinds covering the
windows. The lingering panic I had fallen asleep to was just as strong now that
I was awake. I glanced over and my chest knotted at the lovely sight of Reese
sleeping. Long lashes almost hit his defined cheekbones. Full lips were parted
just a touch. And dark, thick hair was a stark contrast to the white pillow.
His arm lay across my waist, and his nose nearly touched my shoulder. He looked
astonishing even in sleep.

My panic rose.

Everything from my
bruised heart to the lies I’d been weaving to the fact that Reese never dated
more than three weeks suddenly crashed down on me. I gripped the sheets and
curled my toes into the blankets.

About to seriously
freak out, lose it, you name it, I slipped out from under his arm, glancing
around the bedroom, searching for my bag until I recalled it being in the
bathroom. Inside, I paced the length of the bathroom repeatedly, cursing my
weak-willed heart. About to hyperventilate, I decided that it was go time. I’d
learned from years of video gaming that, when in over your head, abort mission.
I quickly pulled on some clothes, yanked the silly bow off my head, and stuffed
it in my bag then tiptoed across the bedroom and rushed through the main room
to the front door.

Taking a deep
breath, I laid my forehead against the cool wood. My fingers gripped the lock.
Just a turn and I could escape from certain heartbreak. Somehow, I couldn't
make my fingers click the lock over. My fingers were frozen with indecision
laced with not wanting to abandon Reese.
Stupid,
stupid, stupid woman.
I smashed my face and indecision against the door.

“Naomi?” Reese
suddenly asked in a confused, sleep-filled voice from behind me.

Oh shit.
My previous hyperventilating was
nothing compared to this. “Yeah?” I somehow said and kept the freak-out inside.

“Are you leaving?”
His tone sounded suspicious.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Think. Think. Think.
Then it hit me. “Well, yeah. Did you
really think I'd be able to
make
breakfast?” I wanted to kiss myself, high-five myself, and let out a whoop at
my sheer genius-ness. And I kept getting better. “But I can't seem to turn the
lock.”
 

I finally shoved
away from the door and peered at him innocently. Damn, facing him and his
adorable bed head above his sexy, sleepy-eyed face brought all of my newly
realized feelings to the forefront.

Under his delectable
bed head, his gaze held a tinge of suspicion. I made a stupid pouty expression
and added, “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” 

He leaned against
the wall and crossed his arms. “I was surprised to wake up alone.”

I sighed
dramatically. “Well, the plan was to be back before you woke up.”

He rubbed the
gorgeous scruff on his jaw. “I’ll have Paul get us some breakfast.”

“No!” I said in a
horrified tone. “That man is not getting up before eight o'clock on a Sunday
morning to get us breakfast.”

“Then let me get
dressed and I’ll go with you,” he said, pushing away from the wall.

I shook my head
ferociously. “Fair’s fair. I lost the bet.”

“The bet was made in
fun. It’s not a damn contract.” The lingering skepticism left his gaze and it
pinned me to the wall as if letting me go weren’t an option.

“Just open the door so
I can get breakfast.” I needed to get away from him, even for a few moments.

“How about we have
one of the best things in the world? Toast.”
 

The toast reference
almost brought a laugh, yet I was determined to leave. “Just open the door. Go
take a shower. I’ll be back in a few with breakfast.”

 
He studied me for several too-long seconds as
if deciding to trust me. With a look of uncertainty on his face, he reached
past me to click the lock open. Before I ran out the door, he gave me a quick
kiss and a long, deep stare that had my knees knocking in fear. This man could
destroy me.

Turning toward the
kitchen, he said over his shoulder, “I’ll be waiting.”
 

I rushed down the
hall and to the elevator. Outside, after running to the corner, I paced from
one end of the block to the other then back again.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Thinking about
hailing a cab, I crossed the street, wandering around New York on a Sunday
morning like a cray cray. Of course there wasn’t a cab in sight.

On the next block, I
passed a little deli that was open.

“I’ll be waiting.”

I needed to go home,
get my head on straight, and get away from Reese. Instead of all that, my feet
backtracked and entered the deli.

Two ciabatta, egg,
and bacon sandwiches later, I strode past the entrance of his apartment
building twice. But guilt finally had me entering the building with my
weak-willed, soon-to-be bruised heart. Apparently, I was riding this out.

As the elevator took
me up to his floor, I recognized that my drama was a bit overboard. Really,
what was cutting our time together by four days going to accomplish? Less than
a week of us dating remained. Then maybe a month or two of pining and I could
move on with the realization that flings were not for me.

I didn’t have to
knock. His door was open a crack. The smell of coffee hit me as I entered the
apartment. But Reese wasn’t in the kitchen. I set the bag from the deli on the
counter and began wandering. He wasn’t in the bedroom or bathroom either. In
the kitchen, I noticed the full coffee pot. Beginning to think that he might
have gone out searching for me, I was startled when the muted sound of his
voice came from somewhere in the apartment. I heard him say, “Paul,” and
something about “checking south of here,” but I couldn’t make the rest out.

Head cocked, ears
listening extra hard, I followed the muted sound of his voice into the hallway.
It was empty. I listened again, wandering toward the sound, and not paying
attention, I stubbed the living crap out of my toe on the table in the hall.
Hopping on one foot and mouthing swear words, I figured out where his voice was
coming from.

The hall closet.

What the heck?
Bouncing on one foot, I yanked the door open.

It wasn’t a closet.
It was a small office, and Reese was sitting behind the desk, talking on the
phone. He glanced up to see me hopping. His expression looked startled then
relieved. He quickly said, “Never mind. No need to search.”

I stopped bouncing,
gave an embarrassed wave, and went to shut the door, but he gestured me over,
phone pressed to his ear. My toe throbbing, I cautiously made my way to the
desk. He was saying a curt, “Goodbye,” when I tripped—on nothing,
apparently—and tried to catch myself on the desk. Instead, I fell on him,
nearly knocking our foreheads together.

“So glad to see me
that you’re jumping into my lap?” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“Something like
that,” I mumbled above his shoulder, gripping the back of the chair.

“Or are you nervous
again?”

“Something like
that,” I repeated, embarrassed as usual.

Not wanting to meet
his gaze, I perused the shelves filled with books and pictures behind us. A
picture of his mom with a man, whom I assumed was his dark-haired and handsome
father, caught most of my attention. It became evident where Reese had gotten
his looks.

“Did you find
breakfast?” he asked, his lips against the side of my head. “Or yourself?”

Gripping his
shoulders, I pushed back to glare at him. “Myself?”

“You seemed a little
confused earlier.” Though his tone sounded wry, the smile on his lips conveyed
pleased.

A small, mocking
laugh escaped me. “Trust me. I’m always a little confused.”

He smirked then
leaned forward for a quick kiss. “So am I making toast?”

“No,” I said in
offended tone. “Breakfast is waiting in the kitchen.”

“Then let’s go eat.”
Hands around my waist, he helped me stand.

I shuffled back,
glancing at the pictures on the shelf again. A diploma caught my attention.
Leaning closer, I read the heading.

“Grendall College?
Where is that?”

He scanned the
diploma as he stood. “Oregon.”

“You went there?”

He nodded. “Does
that surprise you?”

“Well, yeah,” I
said, stepping back from his close proximity. “With your grades and
ah…resources, I assumed you’d have gone somewhere like Harvard or Princeton.
Maybe Grendall isn’t known?”

He shrugged. “It’s
known as a small college with an excellent business program.”

“Oh. That’s why you
went there.”

“No, not really.” He
glanced at the diploma again. “It’s not known as the premier business college
or anything, but it’s located far away from New York.”

“Why would you want
to be away from New York?”

“I…” He sat back
down as if deflating. “I wanted to be away from my grandfather.” His bitter
tone matched the suddenly tense lines of his face.

My fingers gripped
the edge of the desk behind me. Indecision rolled through me. I wasn’t sure if
I should ask why, if it would be intrusive, or if I wanted to know the entire
story. Yet not asking would be like leaving an elephant trumpeting in the room.

I cleared my throat.
“Why would you want to be away from your grandfather?”

“Well…” he said
hesitantly, regarding the art on the opposite wall and apparently collecting
his thoughts. His hands curled stiffly into fists on the edge of the desk
before he loosened them and his gaze lifted to me. His expression slowly
relaxed, and he looked as if he had come to a decision. “Perhaps not at first,
but over time, my grandparents were somewhat negligent, at least compared to my
parents. However, there were never any issues until I turned eighteen.”

My face remained as
blank as my brain. That number was apparently important, but I was clueless.

“The age I came into
the first wave of my inheritance.” He absently reached for a pen and caught it
between his thumb and index finger before he started tapping it lightly on the
desk. “I was in high school when he began trying to persuade me to sign over
control of the money.”

My butt found the
edge of the desk. Of course the issue would be money.

The drumming pen
paused as his lips formed a scornful twist. “At first, it was suggestions based
on vague worries. I was ‘too young.’ I wasn’t ‘responsible.’ He’d ‘keep it
safe.’ Nonetheless, I didn’t see the point. I told him several times that I
wouldn’t touch the money. I already had a monthly allowance that more than
covered my expenses.” Dropping the pen, he frowned. “Even for a rich kid
partying on the weekends with his friends.”

I imagined a young
Reese surrounded by females at a loud house party. It was better than imagining
a grandparent after his money.
 

He leaned back in
the chair, his eyes distant, full of memories. “He began putting on more
pressure. Requesting me home, something he never did, for long weekend-long
rants. I grew distrustful and began hating the thought of coming home. The
conversations started getting uglier. One Saturday afternoon, after yelling at
me for hours, he threatened to pull me from my too-expensive school. When I
still wouldn’t agree, he lost it. It started with backhanding and slapping”—I’d
known it was coming, but even so, it stunned me enough to gasp—“until it
progressed into a full-out beating. Despite shock and anger, I couldn’t hit a
seventy-year-old man back. I just took his anger, and fists, in silence.”

Shaking my head, I
scooted closer to him, reaching for his hand. “Oh, Reese, that your own
grandfather did such a thing… Did you go to the authorities?”
 

 
He looked down at our connected hands for
several long seconds before letting out a sigh. “Maybe I should have told
someone, but I was deeply embarrassed, too young, shocked, and very, very
angry.”

He smiled lightly,
and I realized that the smile was to reassure me. My expression must have been
horrified.

“I tried to ride it
out at first, leave on the weekends before he got there, or take off to a
friend’s in the city. Then, after a couple of uglier incidents, one where he
even came to my dorm room, I tried to go directly to the account firm and cut
my grandfather off and out of my life. But the account firm seemed to be
resistant, slow, and never had time to deal with me.”

Without meaning to,
my hand gripped his harder. “Your grandfather’s influence?”

He shrugged. “I
assumed as much and started communication with a lawyer. That had just begun
when the headmaster called me into his office and informed me that my
grandfather was taking me out of school. School had become my home. The thought
of living with my grandfather, even for the time it took lawyers to get control
of my inheritance, was too much. I finally gave in and signed every document.
It only equated to about five percent of my total inheritance, and at the time,
five percent didn’t seem worth the fight. I never went home again that year.
Actually, I’ve never been to the penthouse since. My grandmother still lives
there.”