Page 6 of Just One Night (Salvatore Brotherhood MC)
HEATHER
R eid left the room a few minutes ago, leaving me still tied and spread wide open on his bed. If anyone else came in right now, I’d have no way to hide. They’d see everything. They could do anything.
He comes back in, drying his hands on a towel and smirks at me. It’s a deliciously evil smirk that has my toes curling. Slowly, he prowls toward me, tossing the towel on his desk as he passes it.
“Are you hungry?” He asks as he sits beside me. He starts untying the binding, gently tugging at them to not pinch my skin. “I can order us something, or I could make something.”
“I’m okay,” I say. When one leg and arm is untied, he gently massages my leg as he lowers it, then does the same with my arm, massaging my wrist up to my shoulder. Resting my leg across his lap, he turns his head to look at me.
“You need food, water. A break,” he says as I roll my wrist around a few times. He moves onto the other side, doing the same thing until I’m unbound. “What about pasta?” I make a face and he laughs. “Okay, burgers?”
“I’m not hungry,” I say. “And if we’re done, then I should go home.” He pauses, his hands stilling on my calf. Slowly, he turns his head toward me.
“You want to go home?”
“Well, if we’re done,” I say slowly, pinching my brows together. “There’s no reason for me to stay, is there?”
“What if I’m not done?” He asks as he turns his attention back to massaging my calf. “Maybe I’m not ready to let you go yet.” I stare at him as he works his way up my thigh. “Maybe I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”
“Reid,” I sigh, “it was just tonight, remember?” He ignores me as he moves onto my arm, working on my limp wrist.
“I’m not saying I want anything past tonight,” he says tightly and my stomach drops.
“I’m just saying I want to be a decent guy and make you food before I fuck your brains out again.
Then, I wanna take care of you, make sure you’re comfortable and warm enough to sleep.
And then, in the morning, I’ll send you home full of my food and my cum. ”
I blink at him. Then laugh.
“You’re kidding,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s just a one-night-stand. You don’t make me breakfast or take care of me after sex. We both get our release and go our separate ways.”
“Whoever you’ve been having your one-night-stands with are fucking idiots and terrible men,” he says as he looks at me, his eyes piercing mine.
“Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me do what I want.” I swallow heavily, then nod.
“Let me make you something to eat. What do you like?” I shake my head as I open and close my mouth a few times, unable to speak.
My mother has been reminding me of the weight I’ve put on since I started college and I need to lose it.
But how can I tell him that? How can I tell him I don’t eat unless I have to?
He leans forward and captures my lips with his, giving me a gentle but hot kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
His black boxers are sculpted to his ass and muscular thighs, and I unashamedly check him out as he walks to the door. He pauses and looks at me over his shoulder, smirking.
“I could feel your eyes on me,” he says, laughing. “I’m not a piece of meat, you know.” I snap my eyes to his.
“You’re not?” I say, grinning. He just shakes his head as he leaves the room, a broad smile on his face.
I sit up, crossing my legs as I look around the room.
I’m finally able to take it all in, now that I’m not distracted.
There are guitars hanging on the wall above his desk.
Clothes are scattered around on the floor by the closet, and his desk is covered in notebooks, loose papers, pens, pencils.
On the floor beside the bed, there’s a notebook with a pen in it.
I really shouldn’t snoop, but I’m too nosy to leave it alone.
Grabbing it, I flip it open and skim the pages.
It’s full of poems. Every single page is full of his scratchy, little letters. Some lines have been scratched out, new ones written haphazardly beside them. There are little doodles all over the pages, but on some, there are full-blown masterpieces.
He’s talented. Really fucking talented.
The door opens and I freeze, busted.
“Sorry,” I say quickly and slam the book closed, dropping it back to the floor. “I was—um. Sorry.” He’s carrying a blanket, his eyes wide as he flicks them between me and his discarded journal. “I didn’t read anything. I mostly looked at the drawings. You’re really good.”
He shakes himself slightly and his face glows red. “Thanks,” he says awkwardly as he walks toward me, the blanket clutched tightly in his hand. “I, um, put this in the dryer for a few minutes to warm up.” He hands it to me and I sigh at the warmth as wrap it around myself, hiding my naked body.
“What did you think?” He asks as he sits beside me.
“Your drawings are really good,” I say and he eyes me skeptically.
“You really didn’t read anything?”
“Maybe a few lines,” I say shyly. He laughs and scoots closer, leaning into me.
“Well?”
“I think you’re really talented, Reid. The little bit I read was beautiful,” I say truthfully. Reaching out of the blanket, I put my hand on his forearm, stroking my thumb back and forth. “I think you could make something of yourself if you wanted to pursue poetry or art.”
“They’re songs,” he says quietly. “Not that I’m all that great at singing, but I like to write and come up with melodies for them.”
“Will you sing one for me?” I murmur and he drops his eyes to my hand.
“No,” he says. “Maybe one day, but… No.” My heart dips, but I understand. It takes trust and vulnerability to show someone something you’ve written, or to sing for them, and we don’t have that. We won’t ever have that.
“That’s okay,” I say and squeeze his arm. “But I’m sure you’re just being hard on yourself. I bet you sound amazing.” He laughs breathlessly.
“You’d be the only one to think that,” he says as he pushes to his feet. “Come on, I made grilled cheese.” He offers me his hand and I don’t hesitate to I take it.