When I come out of my oh‑God‑incredible‑orgasm stupor, I push him away with my hands on his chest and step into the bedroom. I frantically search for a pair of jeans, pull them up my legs, slip on some shoes, grab a cardigan, and rush toward the door again. Reid blocks my way, already dressed in his jacket and jeans, barefoot, watching me.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you.”
He shakes his head, and I can see in his eyes that he’s silently saying, stubborn. I meet his gaze with as much defiance as I can manage — which isn’t much, considering I’m still wearing his T‑shirt and the feeling of his fingers inside me hasn’t faded.
Incredibly, he steps aside and gestures toward the door with a subtle go ahead.
I take one step, then stop when I’m right next to him. I glance over my shoulde
