My breathing hitched at the thought, and I inched closer, stretching my face toward him.
Reid’s eyes widened and he stood, running a hand over the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “Okay, I’ll let you get on with things. I’ve bothered you long enough.”
Without a thought, I laid my hand on his arm. “You haven’t bothered me at all, Reid.”
His gaze jumped from my hand to my face and back again. He stepped away.
“If you need me, I’m down the hall. Next door. Right there.” He pointed to the right, then turned in the opposite direction and hurried away.
His reaction had mystified me, and I realized I had probably crossed a line. Since that day, I had only become more confused. He was hot and cold. Some days, I was certain he was as interested in me as I was in him, and others, I was sure I had only imagined the spark between us. There were moments I swore he was going to grab me and kiss me.
And I wanted him to. So much. But he never did.
I saw him a lot. My computer seemed to have a lot of glitches that only he could fix. If I had a question or anything I needed, he was the first to help me, always seeming to be close by. But that was it. He never took my hints at dinner together or even lunch. My attempts to draw him out personally failed every time. I resorted to accidentally jamming my printer, freezing my computer, and loosening the connections on the fancy monitors he had installed on my desk.
Still, we went nowhere—until Maddox informed me, he wanted the apartment to have the security system and programs installed that Reid was working on for Ridge Towers. When Reid had come to see me about it, I was certain he was as excited as I was. He had shown up last night with flowers and coffee. We had talked and laughed, and his reaction to my stripper pole comment was hilarious—although he had left not long after it occurred.
His retort to my question this morning was surprising and telling. His eyes had narrowed, his expression intense. His fingers curled around the paper cup, holding it tightly as he informed me in a voice that made me shiver, he would buy every dance. It sounded possessive.
I liked it.
I watched him move around my apartment, eyeing the right spot for the shelves. He reached into the pocket of his duffel bag for a pencil. I tried not to ogle his ass, but it was impossible. It was a great ass. His entire body was great—tall, lean, yet muscular. I had felt his strength when he hugged me once.
I wanted to feel it again.
I knew he worked out with Aiden. I heard them joking in the hall about their routines and Aiden whooping his ass. Once I had seen him coming upstairs from a workout, a towel draped around his neck. His wife-beater was soaked with sweat, his skin damp. I could see the effects his sessions with Aiden were having on his body. His chest was broader, the muscles in his arms defined and thick. His body was toned and hard. His hair was a mess, and his shorts hung low on his hips and showed off his powerful legs. He was sexy and relaxed, and the grin he had thrown my way before he disappeared into his office for a shower made me want to follow him and help him in that shower. And by help, I meant rip off his shorts and swallow his cock until he screamed my name.
“Becca?”
I shook my head to clear my lust-induced fog. “Sorry?”
Reid tilted his head, his hair falling over his brow. “Are you okay? You’re looking at me funny.”
“Oh, sorry. I was thinking about, ah, something that I’d like to do.”
“Do you need me to come back another time?”
“What? No. No, I’ll get to it later. What were you asking?”
“Do you want all four shelves here?”
“Um, no. Two over my desk and two on that wall.”
He brushed his hair off his forehead. It fell right back into the same spot and I chuckled.
“I think you need a haircut.”
“I know. Sandy keeps badgering me to get one. I get busy and forget.”
“She’s sort of a den mother, isn’t she?”
He laughed, drawing a faint line with the level. “She’s the closest thing I have ever had to a mother.”
“Oh?” I asked.
He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I was in foster care all of my life, Becca. I’d never had a real home or a family until I found BAM.”
His words hit me in the chest. The pain evident in his quiet voice told me more than a scream ever could.
“Reid, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t. It’s fine, really.”
I hated the ache I heard in his words and tried to find a lighter note. “I could cut your hair.”
The level wobbled and he turned. “What?”
“I could cut your hair. I always cut my dad’s. I trim mine.”
“You cut your dad’s hair?”
“Yeah. My mom always did it for him, but after she died, I took over.”
He edged closer and grabbed my hand. “Your mom died?”
“When I was ten. She had a brain aneurysm. She was fine one day and gone the next.”
He squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It was only my dad and me after that. I tried to fill in, you know. I learned how to cook and helped him with the house stuff . . .” My voice trailed off, and I shrugged.
“And cut his hair.”
“Yeah. So, I could cut yours, if you wanted,” I added, unsure about the look on his face. “To say thanks for the shelves.”
He stared at me, squeezed my hand again, and a grin broke out on his face. “Yeah, I want.”
“Okay.”
He turned back to the wall and picked up his drill. “Okay, let’s get this done.”
My gaze swept the room. “Reid, it looks great!”
The shelves were up, perfect and level. He had hung my pictures patiently, never once complaining when I changed my mind or asked him to try a different spot. He carried in the two boxes I had of books and knickknacks from the storage closet and helped me unwrap them. One by one, he handed me each piece, as I placed and moved them until they were in the right spot. After we were done, he broke down the boxes and took them to the recycle bin without question.
He was relaxed and wore a warm smile, and we had talked constantly. I made sure not to delve into anything else personal. We chatted about the office, the Ridge Towers project, and Bentley’s wedding that was happening soon. He told me some funny stories of the mischief Aiden liked to cause, making me chuckle. It was a good morning.
“I’m glad I could help,” he responded.
“Are you ready for lunch?”
“You didn’t have to do that, but it smells awesome.”
“Do you cook?”
“No. I do a lot of takeout, so a home-cooked meal is a treat.”
“Good. We can eat, and I’ll cut your hair.”
“That sounds perfect.”
He sat at the counter, and I piled his plate high with the casserole I had made. He dug in, his low moans and muttered praises letting me know he enjoyed it. He ate two platefuls before he laid down his fork.
“That was incredible.”
“Good.”
He drained his glass of water, pouring himself another. “Are you finding your way around the city okay?”
I pursed my lips. “It’s a bit overwhelming. It’s so much bigger and busier than Victoria. I walk to work, and I found a few stores, but I need to venture out more. Get to know the subway system. Find more shops and explore the galleries and museums. There is so much here to discover.” I leaned a little closer. “I have to admit, I’m directionally challenged. I get lost easily, so I take it slow and get to know the area before wandering too far.”