The utter disgust in his voice sends waves of euphoria traveling through me.
“Em, baby, listen,” he rumbles. “We broke it off. Officially. Your mom took all her shit and left.”
He called me baby.
I slide my arms around his neck and then stand on my toes to reach his mouth. Before I can chicken out, I press my lips to his. He opens his mouth, most likely to protest, and I seize the opportunity. My tongue swipes over his and we both groan.
A massive palm grabs my ass cheek and squeezes to the point of pain.
It’s rough and feral and I need more of it.
My legs hook around his waist, and I deepen our kiss. A moan escapes me when his hand squeezes me again, this time fingers sliding down the ass crack of my jeans.
“Wait,” he hisses, pulling away. “Stop. We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” I scowl at him.
“Because.” He plucks me off of him and tosses me onto my made bed. “She accused me of some shit, and I don’t want her to be right.”
“Reid…”
His hungry gaze rakes over me and he shakes his head. “Please. Let me get my head together. We can discuss this later.”
With those words, he stalks out of my room, slamming the door shut after him.
I don’t even know what just happened. What I do know is we kissed, and it was amazing. I’m already salivating for more.
My purse sits on the floor where I’d dropped it afew minutes ago. I snatch my phone out to read the many texts from my mother starting last night after she got home.
Mom: Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you’d done all that for my birthday.
Mom: Things are just hard lately. I’m working on something better for us.
Mom: You forgive me, right?
Then the rest are from this afternoon.
Mom: Reid kicked me out. We’re over. Be careful with him.
Mom: I’ve seen how he leers at you. Has he ever put his hands on you? I’ll kill him!
Mom: Sorry, I’m just upset. You know you can tell me anything, though. Did he touch you? You’re not in trouble.
I’m going to be sick. Is she for real?
Mom: He’s a good man. I’m just freaking out. Why would he do this to us?
Mom: I’m staying with my client tonight and then I’m going to work on him. Maybe we can move in with him. I could trade cleaning for rent or something.
Mom: I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know the update. This client of mine lives in one of those fancy houses close to where you babysit. Maybe we’re finally moving up in the world.
Her texts are erratic, going back and forth from angry to determined. I finally respond to her.
Me: I don’t want to move in with some stranger. I want to stay here. Reid won’t care.
Her response is immediate.
Mom: I will care. You’re my daughter. Not his.
