Page 7 of Just One Night (Salvatore Brotherhood MC)
REID
M aybe I should feel more embarrassed about her finding my song book, but I don’t. She looked at me like I was special, like she truly believed I’m talented.
It’s not that I haven’t heard that before—Bash has heard me singing in the shower or my room our entire lives. He and Ma always said I should go to L.A. to try to make it. But I don’t want that life. The touring, the fans, the nonstop work. That’s not me.
I just want to write what I want and play what I want. When money gets involved, things get messy.
Heather has been talking non-stop since we sat on the couch to eat. But I don’t mind. I’ve been watching her and listening to her rant about her finals coming up. I could do this every day. It feels natural. It feels right, to be sitting here together, laughing, and having dinner.
But I have to remind myself for the millionth time, it’s just one night. In the morning, she’ll leave and we’ll go our separate ways. She’s made it clear that she’s committed to this being a one-time-only thing.
“When can I take this thing out?” She whines as she wiggles around. Honestly, I’d forgotten about the plug. I feel a little bad, but she doesn’t look uncomfortable or like she’s in pain. Her eyes are still hooded, so I think it’s turning her on more than she wants to admit.
“When I say so,” I say smugly and grin when she rolls her eyes. Standing, I grab her plate and frown. She only ate the grapes and two bites of the sandwich. “Did you not like it? I can make you something else.”
“Not hungry,” she says, shaking her head. She stares at the plate a beat longer, then drops her eyes. There’s something more there, but I’m not going to push.
She was always on some kind of diet when we were in high school.
Addie told me her mother was really strict about Heather’s body—she always made comments about it and always made her feel bad about it.
When she started to fill out, her mother was upset, apparently, that her seventeen-year-old daughter couldn’t fit in the same clothes she could when she was fourteen.
It made me sick then and it makes me sick now.
After putting our dishes in the dishwasher, I make my way to the living room.
The blanket is tightly around her and her eyes are closed.
Walking to her, I scoop her up, cradling her against my chest as I walk toward the bedroom.
She’s tired and as much as I want to fuck her, I’m not going to push her.
“I can walk,” she says.
“I know.” I kick the door closed behind us. “I’ll grab you a shirt.” I gently put her on the bed, tucking the blanket around her shoulders again. I grab a clean t-shirt from the closet and turn around to find her frowning. “What?”
“That’s it?” She asks. “That’s all we’re doing? A little foreplay, fucking once, some dinner, and now we’re going to bed?” My lips twitch, but I try to keep a straight face.
“You looked tired, princess,” I say gently. “I’m not going to use your body when you’re worn out.” Her shoulders slump.
“If this was a mistake—”
“It’s not a fucking mistake,” I growl. I drop the shirt on the bed as I sit in front of her, bracing my hands on either side of her. Leaning forward, she’s forced to lean back. We do that until she’s on her back and I’m looming over her. “This was not a mistake, Heather.”
“Then why don’t you want to fuck me again?” She whispers, hurt lacing her words. “Do you not think I’m pretty? Was it not good for you?” I sit back, stunned.
“Are you kidding?” I ask, my voice low. She slowly sits back up, her chin trembling. “Of course, I think you’re pretty, baby. You’re fucking gorgeous—the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
“But you don’t want—”
“I do want to fuck you again,” I say. “I just didn’t want you pushing yourself because you thought I was expecting more. If you’re tired, that’s alright. What we’ve done is more than enough.”
“But I’m not tired,” she says quickly, sitting a little straighter. “And I really want this—” she looks away shyly. I smile, loving this new, bumbling, awkward version of her. “I want you .”
“Want me to what?” I ask, leaning forward again. Her breath catches as her eyes widen. “Tell me, princess. Remember, I need to hear your words.”
“Fuck me,” she breathes.