Trapped with Mr. Walker: Chapter 12

“YOU KNOW WE WERE destined to only have one bed, right? It’s like the law in situations like this.”

“I told you. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Reed pulls off his bowtie and undoes the top button of his shirt.

“No way. I’ll sleep on the sofa. You’ve been working all day.” I walk past him with a pillow, preparing to set up my sleeping spot for our one night here.

“Harls.” He reaches out and clasps my wrist with a gentle stubbornness I’ve noticed he can execute with precision.

I raise my eyes to meet his and he cocks a brow at me, not needing to use words. I know exactly what he’s going to say.

You’re not sleeping there. I am.

I leave my wrist cradled in his hand. He makes no attempt to break our contact, either. Ever since the president laid his hands on me, making my skin crawl, I’ve wanted nothing more than to feel Reed’s touch. I stayed glued to him after that, his reassuring, strong presence calming the racing of my heart like no one else would have been able to do. Being near him, feeling his muscles tense and relax underneath my hand as I held his arm for the remainder of the night, erased all thoughts of other hands, other unwanted touches, unwarranted suggestions about hotel suites and private talks, and getting away for a while together.

I shudder at the memory. I could tell the moment I felt the president’s eyes on me, trying to penetrate the thin satin of my dress. I’ve experienced that coiling of dread in my stomach many times. A tightening as my body prepares. In nature, it would be fight or flight, but in a multibillion-dollar ballroom with one of the world’s most powerful leaders, it’s not as simple. Survival takes on a whole new meaning when the man you’re about to turn down could likely make you disappear without a trace. You’d just become another cold case, another dead end of loose trails that lead nowhere.

My eyes are drawn down to where Reed’s thumb is stroking gentle circles on my inner wrist.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” And I mean it. I am okay. “Are you? You’re on the president’s radar now.”

His eyes darken and he presses his lips together. “So be it.”

He lets go of my wrist and takes the pillow back from me as I protest, walking over to the bed and placing it back on.

“You’re not sleeping on the sofa. End of discussion.”

“Neither are you.” I cross my arms over my chest.

He sighs.

“Fine. I suppose the bed is kind of huge.” I cast my eyes over the enormous luxury bed in our suite, piled high with sumptuous looking white pillows of varying shapes and sizes. “We can share.”

Reed’s gaze follows mine as he unbuttons his shirt. “If you’re happy, then so am I.”

“Good. That’s settled.” I linger for a moment as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his solid, defined torso and huge arms. I’ve seen it numerous times before. When he’s sweaty from his workout, when he goes to the kitchen for a drink before bed in just his pajama pants, when he walks down the hallway in just a towel around his waist to grab his ringing cell phone.

I’ve seen it.

And yet, I haven’t. Not really. I’ve had blinkers on this entire time. Because if I had really looked, then I would have noticed just how beautiful Reed is. It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time.

He was willing to sacrifice everything tonight.

He could have blown his chances at ever becoming mayor by pissing off the president.

He could have lost it all.

Yet he didn’t seem to contemplate that for a second. He wasn’t thinking of himself.

He was thinking of me.

“Can you please get the top for me? There’s a couple of hooks.” I move in front of him and turn so he can access the back neck strap of my dress, another beautiful loan from Maria. I swear she chooses pink dresses on purpose purely for me. I never see her wear them. She prefers red or cream.

“Of course.”

His breath fans over the back of my neck as he unfastens my dress with ease. I hold the front of it to prevent it from falling. His fingers dust my neck, and he slowly runs his hands down over each of my shoulders and down the tops of my arms, sending goosebumps scattering over my skin.

“You look beautiful tonight. No wonder the president considered starting a war when I came over.” His hands stay resting on my bare skin, a little above my elbows as my heart rate picks up in my chest.

“You were lucky he didn’t.” I breathe slowly, aware that every hair on the back of my neck is standing up from where his breath is ghosting over my skin.

“No. He was lucky. If he had started it, then I sure as fuck would have finished it.”

I twist my head to look back at him over my shoulder.

“I would end every war for people I care about, Harls,” he says slowly, holding my gaze.

People he cares about.

I stare back at him as his eyes drop to my lips and back up again. The subtle movement unleashes a bubbling energy, which dances its way through my body.

I turn away. “I’m just going to get changed.”

I head into the bathroom and close the door, falling back against it and letting out a deep breath. Tonight has been crazy. In fact, this entire day has been. First, we drove for hours to get here, a beautiful hotel in its own private grounds, nothing in walking distance at all. Then I spent a day in the hotel spa while Reed worked. I met Kristen and some of the other partners, who all seemed down to earth. Except Bea, the bitch. Thank God we’ve managed to avoid her and Graham so far. I saw them across the ballroom tonight, right before the president cornered me, but I never saw them again after that.

I slip out of my dress and underwear and change into my white cotton shorts and top pajama set. I should have thought this through properly. I’ve packed what is probably the smallest nightwear set I own. But my big, comfy ones are still in the laundry basket after having my period a week ago. When I head out into the bedroom, there’s a soft, flickering glow from the TV. Reed’s laid out on the sofa, watching the news with his arms folded behind his head. He’s changed into dark blue pajama pants, and nothing else. The light illuminates his skin, then drops away leaving shadows as the image on the screen changes. The contrast of the alternating patterns draws my attention to each line, dip, ripple, and valley on his broad, muscular body. The butterflies that have moved into my stomach over recent days stir up once again.

“Bathroom’s free,” I call as I walk over to the bed and climb in, pulling the cool duvet up over me as I lie down and sink into the pillows with a sigh.

I must fall asleep as the next thing I know, I’m shivering and it’s dark. I glance at the bedside clock. 1 AM. I’ve been asleep less than two hours. I turn over as my eyes start to adjust. There’s a long, dark outline in the bed next to me, slow, steady breathing coming from it.

Reed.

I gather the sheets up around my neck and hunch into a fetal position. How can he be sleeping so soundly? It’s positively Baltic in here. Maybe the air conditioning is broken and stuck at ‘freeze your tits off’ level, because I swear they’re about to do just that. I mutter and tuck my chin underneath the duvet, attempting to blow hot air into it to create a makeshift sleeping bag of heat. It does absolutely nothing, and so I fidget about some more, huffing and puffing. How can such an opulent hotel have such an antiquated, shitty heating system?

I glance at Reed again. He’s sprawled out on his back, one arm flung behind his head, the other on his uncovered chest where he must have thrown the duvet back. He’s always like a heater, walking around our apartment in no shirt. I don’t get it. He’s probably part Yeti. Minus the body hair.

I’m glaring at him, thinking about the unfairness of it all. Women get periods, childbirth, freezing tits. What do men get? A toasty self-regulating furnace and maybe some nose or ear hair that’s prone to overgrowth. Although Reed lucked out there. The bastard looks like a walking billboard for sexy pajama pants that hang low on hips.

Hips with that V shape you see on male underwear models.

I grumble and roll back over so my back is to him.

“Come here, Harley.”

My ears prick up, and I incline my head in his direction. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was before you started wriggling about and making the bed shake.” His voice is deep and a little gruff from where he’s just woken up.

I shuffle about a bit more, testing his theory. The bed base moves the tiniest amount, barely anything at all.

“No way did that wake you up,” I huff as I tuck the duvet around my neck again.

“Fine. It was the way you were puffing and panting and grumbling like a puppy that hasn’t realized its tail is attached to its own butt.”

“Shut up.” I consider throwing my pillow at him, but that would require moving and letting precious heat escape.

He chuckles, his voice still laden with an extra depth from sleep.

It sounds so sexy.

“Come here,” he repeats.

He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he reaches both arms underneath the bedding and drags me across the mattress, pulling my back straight to his front and wrapping his arms around me.

“Now quit fucking complaining and I’ll warm you up.”

I stiffen in his arms, but as the solid heat from his body begins to transfer to mine, I melt, relaxing back into him and letting out a contented sigh.

This is so much better.

“You might as well be naked wearing this.” He brushes his fingers over my ribs and the sudden jump of my stomach leaves me expecting his fingerprints to be etched into my skin if I were to lift the fabric away. “Why didn’t you pack your warm pajamas, the ones with the deformed cats on?”

He means my period pajamas.

“They’re caticorns.”

“They’re fucking hideous is what they are, but at least you’d be warmer.”

I elbow him in the stomach, and he laughs easily, dipping his nose into the hair above my ear as his arms tighten around me. “I’m joking, Mrs. Walker. Don’t divorce me.”

“Fuck off, Daddy.”

He laughs again, and I find myself smiling in the dark as my body hums with tingling warmth encased inside his strong arms.

“How do you do it?” I ask, settling into the pillow and shuffling my ass a little to get comfier.

Reed clears his throat behind me and re-positions his legs further away from mine.

“Do what?”

“All of these events? Talking to all these people and making speeches?”

I was thinking about this today in the spa. I’ve seen Reed address large crowds of people and walk into full rooms, eyes going straight to him, seeking him out. Yet he never loses his cool, never gets flustered.

“I would be a gibbering wreck if it were me.”

“You get used to it.” His chest vibrates against my back as he speaks. “Someone once gave me the advice that I shouldn’t think of my own nerves, but that I should think of the other people there. How they might be feeling, unsure of what to say and do. He told me I should think about how I can serve those people, help them feel more at ease. When you’re focusing your attention on helping other people, you forget about your own problems.”

“That’s actually quite beautiful.” I turn my face and can make out Reed’s eyes shining in the dim light. “Did you use that thought process when you approached the president tonight, too?” I joke.

“I did. I thought about serving him his own ass,” Reed growls, his chest growing hotter against my back. “But my first thought was getting you away from him. Someone being in a situation that makes them uncomfortable, like I could tell you were… that you didn’t… I hate it, Harls. I fucking hate it. I would do anything to prevent someone from feeling that way.”

The strength behind his words shocks me, and we lie together in silence for a few minutes as I think about Riley. I don’t want to ask him about it. It must be so painful for him to think about. His own sister. Knowing someone did something so wicked to her. Took away her control. Violated her. I swallow hard as I try to push the mental images out of my head. She’s come out the other side. She’s a survivor who now dedicates her life to putting these sick bastards behind bars. I wonder if being a prosecution lawyer specializing in sexual assault cases is something she would have ever considered as a career if it weren’t for her past.

“You feeling warmer?” Reed’s voice cuts into my thoughts. He sounds calmer, more relaxed, and I snuggle back into him, letting out a happy hum as my ass brushes against something hard.

I still, my breath stalling. Slowly, I rotate my ass side to side again to make sure it is what I think it is.

Fuck, it is!

I don’t know why, but I perform the same move, slower this time, just to triple check.

Reed clears his throat, and his lips graze my ear. “You need to stop doing that, Mrs. Walker.”

Every cell in my body seems to vibrate as I suck in a breath. His arms are still around me, his solid body pressed tightly against mine, sharing the inferno that his body kicks out with mine. His lips are against my ear, and his dick…

His dick is rock hard and digging into my ass cheeks.

I incline my head to the side. Reed doesn’t move, so my own small twist brings us nearly mouth to mouth. His lips are so close to mine I can almost taste, as well as smell, the mint from his toothpaste that’s still evident on his breath.

My eyes are adjusted enough to the dark now that I can see him almost perfectly. His dark brows, pulled together into a deep look of concentration, his long eyelashes cast down over his cheeks as his gaze falls onto my parted lips.

I roll my hips slowly, fascinated by the way his lips part and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. I thought his body was hot, heating me up like the hard, hot stones they used in the spa today during my massage. But his dick… the energy radiating from it is like a blazing fire that’s had more fuel thrown on. It feels like it might scorch me any second. Brandish me.

“Harley,” he growls out a warning as I turn my head a little more, and the corner of my mouth brushes against his.

“Reed.”

“You need to stop this right now,” he hisses deep from in his chest as I grind my ass back against him again, relishing the hardness of him.

Heat pools between my legs. It’s been a long time since I was with a man, and I could lie to myself and say that’s all this is. A moment of weakness when I’m feeling horny. But that’s what it would be.

A lie.

Because as much as I may try and tell myself that I’m not attracted to Reed Walker.

I can’t.

Not anymore.

The reasons I used to have for disliking him, namely the man-whoring and the irritating jokes, are gone. He says he hasn’t been with a woman in months, and I believe him. Living with him has shown me that there’s so much more to him than I first thought. The jokes remain, but I kind of like them now, not that I would admit that to him. But him? Who he is. The way he’s so passionate about fighting for justice. The way he cares so deeply about others, about his sister.

There is so much more to Reed than I ever gave him credit for.

“What if I don’t stop?” I whisper, grinding back harder against him, reveling in the low groan that rumbles inside his chest.

“Then you need to understand something, Harley.” His voice is strained as I circle my ass over his cock again.

“What’s that?” I let out a small moan as his arms flex around me and his cock jerks.

He moves one hand up, so it’s clasping my chin, keeping my lips in a position millimeters from his.

“Once you let me touch you, there’s no going back.”

There’s fire in his eyes. A promise of so much that I almost want to plead and beg for him to show me just what he means.

Show me exactly what no going back with Reed Walker looks like.

I hold his eyes, more aroused than I’ve ever felt before in my life as I fight to keep my voice even.

“Reed?” I whisper against his parted lips as his fingers tighten around my chin.

“Yes, Angel?”

I flutter deep in my core at the way his voice drags out the word.

Angel.

I keep my eyes fixed on his face as I slowly place my palm over his other hand, which is against my hipbone, and slide it underneath the hem of my top, inching it higher and higher until our joint hands graze the underside of my breast.

Reed holds his breath, his thumb resting against the curve.

Waiting.

“I want you to touch me everywhere,” I say against his lips. “Touch me all over and don’t miss a single part of me.”