Page 18 of Formula Freedom (Race Fever #3)

Lara

T he screen door creaks as it shuts behind Reid and he brings the last of the dishes into the kitchen.

After a long day on the water, we hit the grocer and grabbed a few steaks and some veggies.

Reid grilled everything up to perfection and we sipped Point Break Pale Ales.

We’ve had a nonstop running conversation and I don’t know that I’ve ever enjoyed talking to someone as much as I have today.

I mean, he’s the same old Reid, and we’ve got thousands upon thousands of words between us, but we’ve both changed over the years.

Things are different now, and it’s opened a floodgate of deeper topics to discuss.

I imagine the fact that we’ve been intimate, that he’s asked me to go to Monaco and then Zurich with him, and that he’s protecting me from Lance has changed the dynamics in a way that bonds us differently from what we’ve ever known before as just friends.

But right now, it’s a companionable silence as we clean up the dinner dishes.

He scrapes the remaining food into the bin and slides them into the soapy water.

I wash and he takes up beside me, rinsing and drying.

Reid puts stuff away into the cabinets and I wipe down the counters.

When the kitchen is spotless, I fold the towel over a hook beside the sink and turn to him.

And I inhale sharply.

The look on his face is almost feral and my heart gallops away from me. He’s not said a word, hasn’t touched me, but those eyes tell a story that he wants me beyond reason, causing my skin to prickle.

It’s not like earlier—on the water, laughter bubbling between us as we paddled out past the break. The air is charged and dangerous, humming in my chest.

Reid’s watching me like he’s trying to find the right words. It looks a bit painful, to be honest.

“You don’t have to overthink this,” I say, my lips twitching to fight back a smile.

“I’m not overthinking,” he replies, voice low. “I’m just trying to figure out how many orgasms I can give you tonight.”

My breath catches and I’m pretty sure my panties are now soaked. I’ve never felt so desired before. He makes it seem like I’m a dream that he never wants to end.

I take a step forward, closing the space between us. “Then let me help.”

Emboldened, I kiss him before he can kiss me. Soft at first, just a brush, but then I lean in, and he deepens it, hands rising to cup my jaw. His mouth is warm and familiar, and something in me releases.

He tastes like beer and ocean salt, and I lose myself in it—his mouth, his hands, the way he walks me backward toward the hallway that leads to my bedroom.

We don’t speak as he peels off his T-shirt, his fingers grazing mine as I reach for the hem of my tank.

His eyes roam slowly over my bare skin, not with urgency, but reverence.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

“But I never knew quite how to tell you that. It was never… appropriate.”

“You make me feel beautiful,” I say as his hand comes to the center of my chest.

I lie back on the bed, the same bed I’ve had since I was a teenager, but nothing about this is adolescent. This isn’t fumbling or fast or uncertain. This is deliberate.

Adult.

Earned.

Reid stretches out beside me, his fingertips skating across my ribs. I shiver, not from cold, but from anticipation. From the quiet power of being seen like this.

I press my hand over his thumping heart. “I’m going to admit something to you that might make me seem like a horrible person, but I want you to know that I missed this.”

Reid’s eyes come to mine and he blinks, confusion written on his face. “Missed this?”

My cheeks flush with the pending admission.

“Just that one time with you… it changed me. Knowing what I had even for a singular night, and then I didn’t have it anymore…

I missed it. It was an intimacy I’ve never experienced before, and I’m trying to figure out whatever we are and how I can hold on to it. ”

“We’re figuring it out,” he says. Then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulder. “But I know I’ve wanted you for a long time. And after our one night together, I thought about it more than I should have.”

My body arches toward his, seeking more. His hands slide down my sides and when he undoes the button of my shorts, I lift my hips so he can ease them down. It takes no thought at all to surrender to him. The way he looks at me… like I’m a present he’s wanted to unwrap for years.

My own hands find the waistband of his joggers, tugging them down with far less patience. I need him close. I need the press of his body, the heat of his skin, the proof that this isn’t some fantasy playing tricks on me.

We move together like we’ve done this a hundred times before, like every space between us was designed to be filled by the other. He touches me with care, with confidence, and I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes when his fingers find the spot that makes my breath hitch.

“Lara,” he murmurs, like my name is the answer to a question he’s carried for too long.

I pull him down to me, our mouths meeting again, hands tangled, skin slick with desire. When he finally pushes into me, I feel everything—every beat of the past, every second we lost, every piece of me waking back up.

We find a rhythm quickly—easy, fluid, slow at first, then building with every gasp and stuttered breath. My nails rake gently down his back. His hand curls under my knee, angling me closer, deeper.

There’s nothing else in the world. Just this. Just him. Just us.

When the release comes, it crashes over me like a tide, robbing me of my breath as I drown in ecstasy. Reid follows, a groan buried in my neck, his body tight against mine as he falls with me.

After, we lie tangled in the sheets, breathless and dazed. His thumb brushes circles over my hip. My head rests on his chest, listening to the steady beat beneath my ear.

Neither of us speaks for a long time.

Eventually, he kisses the top of my head. “Still not a dream.”

I smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I’m liking this reality.”

Silence envelops us and my mind starts whirring. We haven’t moved. Not really. Just shifted enough to breathe easier. One of his legs is still entwined with mine, his fingers lazily stroking my forearm.

I stare at the rise and fall of his chest, my voice barely a whisper. “Do you think less of me?”

His hand pauses. “What?”

I try to push away the guilt. “For jumping from Lance to you so fast. It’s barely been a week. Hell, less than that.” I close my eyes, the sting of shame creeping in. “I’m one of those women people whisper about. Like I couldn’t be alone for five seconds, so I just fell into the next guy’s bed.”

Reid shifts to roll to his side and face me fully. His hand grips my jaw, forcing me to hold his gaze.

“Lara,” he says softly, “you didn’t fall into anything. You made a choice.”

“I just feel…” I swallow. “Gross. Like I should’ve had more time to—I don’t know—process, or grieve, or whatever the hell people do after ending an engagement. Not this.”

His brow furrows. “You didn’t leave Lance for me. You left Lance for you. For your safety. Your sanity. You chose to get out of something that was slowly breaking you down. That’s not shameful. That’s brave.”

“But still,” I whisper. “This happened so fast… you and me.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “No, it didn’t. It started when we kissed at fifteen, and it bloomed again after we had sex that one time. You and me? We’ve been a long time coming.”

I blink at him.

He continues. “We’ve had years of history building up to this moment. Years of looks and laughs and something we never touched because the timing was always shit. But not anymore. And I’m not going to pretend this is wrong just because you had to make a hard, necessary exit from something toxic.”

My throat tightens. “But don’t you think people will judge me?”

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully, and it’s not the answer I wanted. “You’re not theirs to define, so you can’t worry about those things.”

I let out a slow breath, my chest loosening a little, but I’m still frustrated. “You really don’t see it as me… rebounding?”

Reid leans in, kisses the center of my forehead. “No. I see it as you finally choosing what’s right for you. And I see it as me finally being lucky enough that our timing lined up and that I’m smart enough not to let a good thing go again.”

His words settle deep, a balm to my chaotic thoughts.

“I don’t want to feel icky about this,” I murmur. “I just… I don’t want to think I’m doing something wrong by being happy.”

“Then don’t,” he says gently. “There’s nothing wrong about this. Not for me. And not for you. And frankly, no one else matters.”

“Lance matters,” I whisper, and Reid’s eyes narrow slightly. “I mean… this is going to devastate him. When he finds out we’re together.”

“Good,” he growls. “I hope it fucking hurts bad, and I hope it hurts every time he sees us together. I hope the pain never dulls. That fucker deserves it.”

“Reid,” I admonish. “He’s your brother.”

“He hit you,” he grits out. “He gets no pass from me on that. Not now, not ever.”

I don’t argue with him because it’s still very raw for Reid.

It is for me too, but I know I’ll forgive Lance.

I know I’ll move on, and I won’t hold a grudge.

I’ll be grateful for what we had, but I also know that what I have is the future that is meant for me.

I can’t harbor bad feelings when I know my happiness is only going to grow from here.

Reid cups the back of my head and presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m going to get some water. Want some?”

“Yes, please.” I follow him out of bed, using the restroom and making it under the covers before he returns. I grab my phone from the pocket of my jeans and just as I’m unlocking it, Reid walks in with a bowl of chocolate ice cream and two bottles of water.

The water was sweet, but the ice cream is next level. “You are a god.”

He smirks as he slides in next to me. “I’d prefer if you tell me that in closer proximity to the orgasms I deliver.”

I snort as I navigate to my texts. Reid takes a spoonful of ice cream and practically shoves it in my mouth.

“Mmm,” I groan, licking my lower lip. “So good.”

“Chocolate’s your favorite,” he says.

“And strawberry is yours,” I quip, eyes moving to my phone. The ice cream seems to curdle in my stomach as I see a new text from Lance. I hadn’t heard from him all day yesterday or today, and it fostered a sense of hope that this break up would be easy.

“Lance texted me,” I whisper.

Reid stops with a spoonful of ice cream halfway to his mouth, then lowers it into the bowl. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look at my phone. Just watches me.

I want to ignore it, but I can’t not know what he’s sent, so I bend my head and read:

I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but I just wanted to tell you again how sorry I am that I hit you. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to. To at least preserve our lifelong friendship. I hope you’ll talk to me soon. I still love you.

I lift my head, find Reid watching me and then hold the phone out for him to read the text. His gaze doesn’t drop though. He’s silently asking permission even though I’ve given it. I push the phone at him and he sets the bowl of ice cream down before he takes it.

I watch as his eyes fly over the words, and I don’t miss the twitch of muscle in his jaw.

He looks up, hands the phone back to me. “What are your thoughts about what he said?”

I lift my shoulder, reading Lance’s words again. “I’m a little disheartened. He thinks we can work this out and honestly, I don’t want this to be a big, drawn-out argument. I just want him to accept that we’re done and I want to reply right now telling him that, but text is not the way to do it.”

“Are you ready to see him? Or talk to him?”

I shake my head. “No,” I admit quietly. “I need to be strong and ready to hold the line with him. Right now… I feel a little fragile.”

“Then text him back, tell him you appreciate the message but you’re not ready to talk to him and want space. If he meant what he texted, then he’ll respect that.”

I nod. That’s a good idea. My thumbs fly, tapping out Reid’s suggestion and I hit send without overthinking it.

“Oh,” Reid says, nodding toward my phone. “Also text him that his brother’s going to kick his ass when he sees him.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not texting that, and you’re going to have to figure a way to get over it. We all are if we want our families to have some chance at staying close.”

Reid’s expression is noncommittal. “Are you going to get over it?”

“I’ll have to,” I reply softly. “I don’t want to have this hanging over my head. I want resolution.”

Reid nods, but I doubt he’s ever going to forget about it. I know a reckoning is coming. I have to hope he’ll be satisfied with nothing more than a screaming match with his brother.