Chapter 2: Mira?

“Your dad?”

Mira laughed like I’d said something ridiculous. “Yeah, sure. Why are you acting like it’s weird? Is there any problem?”

I forced a quick shake of my head, my cheeks already warm. “No, no. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

Reynolds’ gaze flickered to me again.

“Get in,” he said, his voice low and calm. “We’re already running late.”

I stood frozen on the sidewalk, my pulse thundering in my ears as the realization hit me.

Two months.

Under the same roof as the man I’d just been touching myself to.

I was so completely, utterly fucked.

Mira slid into the back seat first, already scrolling on her phone.

I climbed in after her, careful not to look at Reynolds as I pulled the door shut.

The interior of the SUV smelled like leather and his expensive cologne.

I buckled my seatbelt with trembling fingers and kept my eyes on my lap.

He pulled away from the curb. For a few minutes the only sound was the click of Mira’s nails against her screen.

Then she spoke.

“Agnes has a crush on someone, Dad.”

My head snapped up so fast my neck hurt. “Mira—”

She grinned without looking away from her phone. “She does. I caught her with a picture with ittle heart drawn on it and all.”

Heat flooded my face. I wanted to sink into the seat and disappear. “Stop it, Mira. It’s not true.”

Reynolds’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror for half a second, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Oh,” he said, his voice deep. “So the little kid is growing up so fast.”

The words landed like a punch to the guts.

Little kid.

That’s all he saw when he looked at me. Not a woman. Not someone who could want him the way I did.

Just his daughter’s orphaned friend.

“I’m not a kid,” I said, quieter than I meant to.

Mira snorted under her breath and went back to her phone.

Reynolds didn’t answer. His hands stayed steady on the wheel, his eyes on the road.

I turned toward the window and watched the city blur past.

My body still ached from earlier, every small shift of the seat reminding me how I ached for him.

Minutes passed.

Mira scrolled through her phone while Reynolds drove.

The low vibration of the engine and the steady rhythm of the road made my eyes grow heavy.

My head fell back, my eyes fluttering.

And somehow the car disappeared.

And I appeared in a wide bed with dark sheets. Reynolds stood at the foot of it, already half-undressed, the black button-down open down his chest.

His golden-hazel eyes dragged over me slowly, like he had all the time in the world.

“You kept saying you weren’t a kid,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Prove it.”

I pushed up onto my elbows, my heart hammering.

The tank top I’d worn in the dorm was gone. So were the sleep shorts.

I was bare in front of him, my thighs pressed together, already wet just from the way he looked at me.

He crawled onto the bed. One big hand wrapped around my ankle and pulled me completely flat on the bed. The other braced beside my head as he lowered his mouth to my throat.

“I’ve watched you,” he said against my skin. “Every time you thought I didn’t notice. The way you yearn for me. The way your pulse jumps when I walk into a room.” His teeth grazed the side of my neck. “You’ve been aching for this, haven’t you?”

A broken sound left me. “Yes.”

His hand slid between my legs without warning. Two thick fingers stroked through my slick heat, pressing just enough to make my hips jerk.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Soaked already. All for me.”

He pushed those fingers inside, slow and deep, curling them until stars burst behind my eyes.

His thumb found my clit and rubbed firm circles while he fucked me with his hand. I clutched at his shoulders, my nails digging in, legs falling open wider for him.

“Reynolds—”

“That’s it.” His mouth moved to my breast, sucking hard on the nipple while his fingers kept working. “Take it. Show me how badly you’ve wanted this.”

I was already close, the same way I’d felt with the vibrator earlier, only stronger and hotter, because it was him.

His weight pinned me down in the best way. When he added a third finger I cried out, my back arching off the bed.

He didn’t stop. He just watched my face while he stretched me open, his golden eyes dark with hunger.

“You’re going to come on my hand,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “Then you’re going to come on my cock. And you’re going to look at me the whole time so you remember who you belong to.”

I nodded frantically, my hips rolling to meet every thrust of his fingers. The pressure built fast.

My thighs started to shake. I was right there, right on the edge—

“Agnes.”

The voice cut through the haze, and it felt distant.

“Agnes.”

The voice was louder this time.

My eyes flew open.

Mira’s face was inches from mine, one eyebrow raised.

“Mira?”