Page 328 of What We Brave
"Hey," he says quietly.
"Hey yourself."
He cups my face. Kisses me slow and deep, completely different from the desperate thing against the tile. This is savoring. This is gratitude.
"Love you," he murmurs against my mouth.
"Love you too."
He reaches past me and turns off the water. Grabs a towel from the rack.
"Come here."
He dries me off like I'm something precious. Careful with my hair, gentle over my breasts, thorough between my thighs. I shiver under his hands.
"Cold?"
"No."
His mouth curves. He knows exactly what he's doing.
When he's finished, he wraps the towel around me and lifts me intohis arms. Just like that—one arm under my knees, one around my back, carrying me like I weigh nothing.
"I can walk."
"Don't want you to."
He carries me out of the bathroom, down the short hallway, into our bedroom.
Reid's already there.
He's stretched out on the bed, shirtless, watching us with dark eyes. His jeans are undone but still on, like he started to strip and then decided to wait. To watch.
"Have fun?" His voice is low. Amused.
"Adequate," I say.
Blake snorts. "Adequate. She screamed."
"Heard that."
"Then you know it was better than adequate."
Reid's gaze travels down my body—the towel, my bare shoulders, my wet hair. His jaw tightens.
"Bring her here."
Blake crosses to the bed and sets me down in the middle. The towel falls open, and Reid's eyes go darker.
"Fuck," he breathes. "Look at you."
Two men staring at me like I'm something to devour.
Forty years old. Three kids. My left boob is definitely lower than it used to be. I found a gray hairdown therelast week and had a minor existential crisis in the bathroom.
And these two are looking at me like I'm a goddamn meal.
So either they're both delusional, or I need to stop being so hard on myself.
