He’d been that nearby. Those nights I’d wished for him at my door, imagined he was fucking her, he’d really been sleeping alone, just a hallway away.
I shared my appreciation by licking up the line of his neck.
His cock pulsed against me in response.
I froze at the sound of another loud rap. Silence followed. Then waiting. Then footsteps sounded in the common room.
Reeve peeked his head around the wall. I held still, slowing my breath until I heard a door fling open a few seconds later.
He returned his focus to me, pinning his eyes on my lips. “She’s in your room now.”
I wondered if she’d worry where I was. If she’d automatically assume I was with Reeve. I wondered if I cared.
“Did she see me outside?” I asked, assessing the situation.
He shook his head. “She couldn’t have.”
I bit my lip, torn. I was so completely taken with the man in front of me. He was the master of my heart and my body. Maybe even the master of my soul.
But she still held parts of me in her clutch, still had power over them like a voodoo queen in possession of a doll in my likeness.
Reeve brought his hands to rest at either side of my neck. “I need you, Emily.” It was sweeter than any admission of love he’d ever made. It was honest and real and raw.
I brought my fingers up to touch his face. “I need you, too.” And it was the most honest and real and raw I’d been with him. The most I’d ever admitted. It was a promise to admit more.
But not while she was waiting for me in my room.
“I have to talk to her, Reeve.” I couldn’t stop staring at his lips, wanting them everywhere on me, imagining them so vividly I could feel them. Then I was feeling them because he was kissing me, owning my entire body with just his mouth.
I was tired of fighting it – no matter what I did or said, I belonged to him. I always would.
Summoning strength that only came from knowing we’d be together again shortly, I pushed out of his arms. “I’ll come to your room,” I promised, already heading toward mine.
In a hushed voice, he called after me. “Will you actually come?”
“Yes.” I was even pretty sure I meant it.
CHAPTER 21
I’d seen Amber around the neighborhood for some time before I ever learned her name.
The guy next door, Doug, had been a dealer. Nothing serious – pot, LSD, ’shrooms, X. He was a sixty-year-old hippie with hair twice as long as mine and a different person or set of people camped out on his couch every week. I had no access to cash in high school. My mother spent everything she earned on booze and taking care of her as well as myself hadn’t left anytime for a job, so I rarely was able to take advantage of the plethora of recreational drugs on the other side of the duplex wall.
Until Amber showed up.
I’d see her outside smoking when I took out the trash or sometimes I’d bump into her at the 7-11 down the block. Every time she’d say hello or wave, and the best I’d ever manage in response would be a shy smile before I ducked my head down. I’d been sixteen and awkward. I’d had acne, and my breasts were embarrassingly large, and communication was not an area I’d had any skill in. Amber, on the other hand, was beautiful and put together and charismatic. I’d been envious of her from afar. I’d also had more than a little bit of a crush.
“You swim a lot,” she’d said to me one June day the summer after my junior year. She’d been sitting on Doug’s front porch steps, smoking when I’d gotten home from practice. Of course she’d be there when I had forgotten to bring my bag with my towel and change of clothes. I’d dripped for most of the six-block walk.
As always, her hair and clothing had been perfect. I’d been mortified to be seen in my still-wet ratty one-piece. “I’m on a team,” I’d said, covering myself by hugging my arms across my chest.
I’d hurried on, hoping to get in my front door before she talked to me again.
But she’d called after me. “Any good?”
I’d stopped and turned back to her. “Our team? Not really.”
It was a neighborhood league. Our coach was the mother of one of the team members. I’d only been invited because they’d needed another swimmer to have enough members for relay competitions.
Amber had smiled, her glossy lips shining in the afternoon sun. “I bet you’re being too hard on yourself.” She picked up the pack of cigarettes on the porch beside her and held it out to me. “Want one?”
I’d smoked before, but I hadn’t been good at it, and I hadn’t liked it much.
Still, I’d said, “Sure.”
She’d lit my cigarette for me then I’d spent the next several minutes feeling stupid because I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I’m Amber, by the way. Emily, right?” she’d asked, blowing a ring of smoke in my direction.
“Yeah.” I’d never told her my name, but it had made me feel cool that she’d known it.
“I’ve heard your mother yelling it,” she’d explained.
“Oh. Sorry about her.” I’d dropped my head at the mention of my mother, as embarrassed about my parent as I’d been about the way I’d looked in my swimsuit.
Then, worried she’d want to talk more about my mother, I’d asked, “Do you live with Doug?”
“For now.”
“Cool.” And we’d returned to silence that was awkward – for me, anyway. I’d just met her, but I was already sure that Amber had never had an awkward moment in her life. I’d racked my brain to come up with something to say – anything. Finally, when she’d opened her purse to drop her lighter inside, I’d found an opportunity. “I like your bag.”