Beg for It(36)

The truth was, Corinne wasn’t sure what, exactly, this was meant to be.

Reese opened the door almost before she’d knocked. “Hi. Come in.”

She waited until he’d moved aside before she entered into the small but cheery kitchen, decorated in colors that had been trendy so long ago they’d gone from outdated to vintage to trendy again. She hung her purse and coat on the back of a kitchen chair without waiting to be asked. Then she turned to face him.

“So,” she said.

“So, I guess we should…do you want something to drink?”

“I have to drive home.” Of course she had to drive home. She wasn’t going to sleep over. Fuck, why had she even said such a thing?

Reese had already been pouring a glass of red, but paused. “You sure?”

“What exactly do you want, Reese?”

He put the glass on the counter. By the look of the bottle, he’d already gone through a couple already. “I think we need to talk.”

Corinne crossed her arms. “About?”

Reese leaned against the counter, one leg crossed at the ankle. He wore a pair of low-hanging jeans and a concert T-shirt from a band she didn’t know. It clung far too tightly to his chest and arms. His feet were bare.

She hated him.

“Look, can we go into the living room? If you won’t have a glass of wine, at least we can sit on the couch. Be more comfortable.”

Eyes narrowed, she nodded and followed him down the short hallway and into the living room. It didn’t look much different from the last time she’d been in it, though at the time she hadn’t been paying much attention to the decor. “Same furniture.”

“Yeah, I never really did anything to it.” Reese drained his glass and set it on the end table as he took a seat. “Sit?”

He’d asked, not commanded, so she did, perched on the edge of the cushions, plenty of space between them. She wished she’d asked for a glass of water, at least. Her throat scratched.

“We didn’t get off on the right foot,” he said.

Both her brows rose. “You think?”

“Look…I just wanted you to know that I really did buy Stein and Sons because I thought I could turn it around. And I intend to do that. I’m good at it. Maybe you find that hard to believe…”

“Why would I find that hard to believe?” she broke in.

Reese fixed her with a look, one she remembered. He’d been drinking long before she got there. For courage? Heat kindled in her belly at the thought.

“I mean to make it a success. And I wanted you to know.”

She stared at him for a long, long moment before the question rose inside her, slipping over her dry tongue. “Why is it so important to you that I know, Reese?”

“I want…” he began and stopped.

His brow furrowed. Hands clenched, he got to his feet and paced in small, tight lines back and forth in front of her. The hems of his jeans whispered along the carpet. At last he stopped, head bowed, fingers still curled into fists at his sides.

“Because I want you to know,” he said. “I just…do.”

She could have stood, then, and left him to suffer whatever damage he’d caused. She should have. The past had happened and could not be lived over; nor could it do anything to change what was happening now. She ought to have walked away from him in that moment and kept moving forward with her life, away from everything they’d been and what they no longer were.

She didn’t.

“Shhh, puppy,” she whispered and opened her arms to him. “Come here.”

He wouldn’t, that’s what she had time to think before Reese pivoted on his heel and came to kneel in front of her. His face pressed into her lap so that her hands found the soft brush of his dark hair. She petted him, both of them silent. He heaved a sigh so heavy that his shoulders lifted and fell, and the heat of his breath caressed her through the thin material of her shirt.

They stayed that way for a while. She didn’t count the minutes, not by the ticking of the clock or the beating of her heart. They could sit like this for an eternity, she thought, and it wouldn’t seem too long.

His fingers slipped beneath her thighs, and he looked up at her with glazed eyes. Parted lips, slick from the swipe of his tongue. Corinne ran her hand over his face, then a thumb over his lower lip. Reese closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against the palm of her hand.

“I want you to be proud of me,” he whispered so low she almost couldn’t hear him.

The words were a fist, punching her in the gut. “Why?”

“Because everything I’ve ever done,” Reese murmured, words slurring, “has been about forgetting you or impressing you or making you proud. I’ve lived my whole f*cking life for you without having you in it.”

“You’re drunk,” Corinne said.

Reese nuzzled into her lap. “Not much.”

She let her fingers tangle in his hair to tug his head up so he had to look her in the face. She whispered his name. He pushed up on his knees, so they were eye to eye.

“We haven’t been together for a long time,” she said.

“Yeah. I know.”

“You could have called me. Written me a letter, even. You could have done anything but ignore me, but that’s what you did. We had that fight, and I never heard from you again,” she said.