Having Mr Alcott

SEVEN

Lizzie’s POV

She had to be his girlfriend, right? She called him 'babe,' and that was too affectionate for someone as arrogant as Reed.

I might call Evie 'babe,' but this felt different.

He didn't correct me when I called her his girlfriend; he just took his phone from my hands.

I stared at him for a moment longer. I hated that I had initiated that kiss. I should be embarrassed, but I wasn't. Yet, I still hated myself for doing it. I hated that he had a girlfriend named Irene, not Lizzie, not Bits.

I hated him.

"Bits," he called.

When I sensed he was about to say something else, I cut him off.

"Save it, Reed."

"I’d like to get settled for the night," I said.

He looked like he wanted to argue but finally just nodded, a tightness in his jaw.

I turned away, hoping to get some distance and clear my head. My emotions were all over the place; resentment, regret, a sting of jealousy I hated acknowledging.

I went to a room by the left down the hall and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to push everything aside.

I needed sleep, not more chaos.

But the truth was, Reed was under my skin, and that kiss was only making it worse.

I changed into spare laid out pajamas, crawling under the covers. I stared at the ceiling, trying to forget the look on his face, the way my heart had twisted.

Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I drifted into an uneasy sleep

I felt him pressed against me, and I relished the sensation.

My core tightened as his fingers grazed down my stomach.

I shivered and my p***y quivered with need.

His hand moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my pajamas. His finger slid against my slick folds as his warm mouth pressed into the hollow of my neck, wet, slow and sensual.

I was wet and eager, craving him, his touch pushing me to the edge.

Call it desperation and I wouldn’t care less.

I wanted Reed inside me, deep inside me.

If only he’d f**k me already.

The voice of John Elton's singing jolted my senses and my eyes instantly fluttered open.

It had only been a dream. A hot, vivid dream with Reed.

I groaned, reaching for my phone on the other side of the bed.

I stared blankly at the screen, reading Evie’s name displayed on the screen.

Good going, Eves.

I answered the call, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and lust.

"Hey, Eves," I said.

"Hey yourself," she replied.

"Did you forget about me?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, messing my hair a little with my fingers.

"You know exactly what I mean. You promised to check up on me after I got home. But you didn’t call, I had to fend for myself, except for Drey, who was thankfully there."

Like it wasn’t his duty, but I didn’t let it out.

"Oh, Eves, I’m sorry," I said, cringing internally.

"I got caught up in something."

I wasn’t planning to tell her about my dad’s ordeal, but knowing the kind of girl Evie is, she’d run 50km per second to get to me.

So no way.

"Uh-huh," she said.

"Let me guess, you’re still with your dad's rich, hot best friend?"

I laughed, shaking my head.

"You could say that."

"Figures. Must be nice having a hot distraction," she teased and I frowned.

"Next time, don’t forget about your friends, okay?"

"Promise I won't," I laughed.

"I’ll check on you later, okay? Make sure Drey's taking good care of you."

"Fine, but I expect a full report on Mr. Hot Best Friend later," she said with a chuckle.

And recalling how I vividly threw myself at Reed, embarrassment ate me whole. There was no way I was supposed to tell me best friend that.

I love her and god bless her soul but I couldn’t.

"Talk to you soon!"

"Talk to you soon," I echoed, ending the call.

I put the phone down, staring blankly for a minute or two.

I finally got off the insanely plush mattress and dragged my feet into the hallway.

Walking into the kitchen, I found him.

Shirtless.

Reed stood at the stove, his broad, sculpted back to me. His Greek godlike physique was on full display, every muscle defined and toned. The light from the window cast shadows across his shoulders and back, emphasizing the contours of his muscles.

And my heart hammered at the sight of him.

His arms flexed as he handled the skillet, the sinew in his forearms shifting.

The way his biceps tensed when he lifted the pan, he looked like he belonged in a sculpture, not a kitchen.

Yet here he was, cooking breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I thought about it. I could slip back into the room and stay locked in until I heard from my mom, or ask Evie to send her boyfriend to come get me. But before I could take a step back, he turned to face me.

Shit.

His bed hair was tousled perfectly, and I could imagine running my fingers through it. My gaze dropped to his lips, and I sucked in a harsh breath.

"Breakfast?" he grunted, raising an eyebrow.

"Hm?"

"You shouldn’t be shirtless here," I muttered.

He smirked.

"It’s my house," he said.

"I can be as shirtless as I want."

His words had a direct line to my core and I could feel the heat growing within me.

I met his gaze for less than a second before shifting away. It was awkward and overwhelming.

I could throw myself at him this moment and wouldn’t care. I was sure he wanted me, too. But then there was Irene.

When she called him “babe,” I was beyond pissed. I wanted to grab Reed by the collar and demand if I meant nothing to him.

But I held back. No.

"I’ll have some eggs," I said, trying to sound casual as I settled onto one of the stools by the counter.

Reed nodded, plating the eggs and setting the dish in front of me.

As he did, he looked at me, the smirk on his lips never faltering.

How does he do it??

"Your mom called," he said, his voice gentler now.

"She confirmed that your dad’s life is out of danger."