His words sent a jolt straight from my heart to my core. I trembled as my eyes met his. “Don’t . . . don’t slow down.”

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

As crazy as it sounded, I knew what Reece needed to do. When everything had happened with Charlie, there was so much pent-­up frustration born out of helplessness and the only outlet had been painting. Sometimes that wasn’t enough, and I’d fill the bathtub up, slip under the water and scream. That frustration had grown to horrific levels, once Charlie started to slip away into what was nothing more than a husk of a living person.

Reece had felt that tonight.

Life was there one second, gone the next. Like a train running off the tracks. He hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it. He bore that same frustration, that same helplessness I felt with Charlie, and I understood that need . . . that almost instinctual drive to remind yourself that you’re still alive.

Reece kissed me again, and if I thought he’d turned my senses inside out before, I’d been wrong. This kiss left me weak in the knees and wanting on a level that was almost painful.

His hands slid into my hair, deftly undoing the bun. My hair fell as he dragged his fingers over my scalp. He tilted his head, taking the kiss deeper. As he dragged his hands down, over my arms and to my waist, I gasped into his mouth.

A deep sound rumbled out of him as he lifted me up. My legs curled against his waist, like they’d been itching to do since forever. Whispering his name, I looped my arms around his neck.

“I’ve got to get you to a bed,” he said, and he started walking. “Or I’m going to take you right here on the floor.”

I shivered, probably more excited by that prospect than I should have been. I pressed a kiss to one corner of his lips and then against his jaw as he walked us back to my bedroom. My fingers slipped over the soft brush of his hair and then to the taut muscles of his upper back. There was so much power in him.

Stopping long enough to flip the bedroom light on, he sat me down so that I was on my knees on the bed. Heat flowed into every cell as he stepped back, tugging his shirt out of the tactical pants. I was almost panting as he lifted his shirt over his head, and dropped it onto the floor.

God, he was beautiful, every square inch of him, from the way his muscles tightened along his stomach to the way his biceps flexed as he undid the belt.

So I told him as I settled on my haunches. “You’re beautiful.”

A half grin appeared. “Beautiful?”

“Yes. You’re beautiful.”