Drive(53)

“How do you know?”

“Because I know her. And he hinted around to it, but won’t fully admit it. They were arguing. He was breaking up with her again, and she pulled the wheel. Shit, I’m busted.”

Reid glared at us from his drum set and then pointedly at Ben’s hand wrapped around my shoulder.

“Want to stop pawing her, dickhead?”

“I like it when you get all alpha, baby,” Ben cooed.

So do I.

Reid stood from his stool, his hair dripping with sweat, chest glistening, and walked toward us, pushing his arms through his shirt. He pulled me to stand as he kept his eyes on Ben. “Let’s go.”

On the way home, Reid stopped at a twenty-four-hour store so I could buy some decent shampoo and other things I’d gone without since I’d been staying with him. I’d made enough tips on our last shift to put some food in the fridge, but felt the heaviness of his steps as I continued to add to the cart. We walked the aisles silently. He was exhausted, and I was on edge. I couldn’t help the feeling I was in trouble, but his eyes told me differently when he glanced my way. But the silence remained, and I got a mere ten feet from the store when I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?”

He continued walking and unlocked his truck, putting the bags in and taking mine from my hand when I caught up with him. He climbed in, and I had no choice but to follow. Starting the engine, he glanced over at me. I was in trouble.

“I like to keep my life private, Stella.”

“Is Ben not a close friend?”

“I just don’t like my shit talked about in the open,” he said with his hands on the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead.

I shrugged. “I didn’t start that conversation.”

“I would just really fucking appreciate it if you keep what’s between us, between us.”

“Fine,” I said, unable to argue with his posture or the tone of his voice.

He laughed, and I hated the sound of it. It was cruel. “Sure you can handle that?”

“Now you want to fight?” I snapped.

A sinking feeling hit me as he drove us back to his apartment. It was more than awkward. I couldn’t leave. Once Reid had carried the groceries in, he grabbed one of his notebooks and hit the porch.

I threw myself into cleaning, and when he didn’t come back inside, decided to bury myself in a new article. I was halfway done with “John for Mayer” when Reid came inside. I didn’t look up. I didn’t bother to acknowledge him. I just kept typing. Even when he showered and laid down on the mattress, I kept my head down. I hated my situation. I had absolutely no power, no leg to stand on. I vowed to myself then and there I would never let myself be put in the position to be at someone’s mercy, ever, for love or music.

It was as if the last of the wool was pried from my eyes. The world Reid lived in seemed ugly and cruel, and I was terrified because all I wanted to do was drown in it with him. Anger radiated through me at the helplessness and the guilt. I missed my sister. I missed my carefree life in Dallas. I missed Reid three feet away from me.

Salty tears slipped down my face and I wiped them away and kept typing. Thinking better of it, I decided to carry my crybaby ass to the porch so I wouldn’t disturb him. I pulled the buds from my ears and felt his fingers brush my ankle.

I looked over my screen to see him staring at me. “Come here.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Liar,” he said with a smug twist of his lips. “Come on, it’s late.”

“I need to check my email tomorrow,” I said, ignoring him.

“Did you save that?” he asked as his fingers brushed my calf. Every single nerve fired off and my nipples drew tight.

“Stella,” he said in a low and demanding whisper.

He reached up and closed my screen. I shot him a deadly stare. “Don’t ever do that to a writer, okay? It’s just as dangerous as cutting off a drummer’s fucking fingers.”

His low chuckle set my insides on fire, but I remained where I was as he seduced me with his lazy touch.

“But you want these fingers right now, don’t you?”

Yes. “Go to sleep, Reid.”

“Not without you, come here,” he said, inching closer, his cheek resting on the back of his hand on the edge of the mattress, a soft and predatory light in his eyes as he moved his other hand to caress my thigh.

My body betrayed me, and I sat there thoroughly seduced while his fingers drifted past the hem of my shorts. I moaned while he softly stroked the crease of my thigh, his eyes blazing.

“The Velvet Underground and Deftones,” he said on a whisper, “my favorite bands.” Breathless, I unplugged my iPod and “Change” by the Deftones sounded between us. Reid’s brows spiked as he gripped the crotch of my panties, tugging hard until I slid his way on the carpet. I felt material give and shrieked as he got me in his clutches and pulled me onto the mattress beneath him. I stared up at him in shock.

He gripped my fingers before they could reach his hair and tapped them to his temple. “You fuck me up, here,” he said hoarsely, and then put my hand flat on his chest and wordlessly pressed it there. Gripping the hem of my T-shirt, he tossed the material onto my chest before he ripped away my shorts and ruined panties. “You exhaust me. You make me tired, Stella, so fucking tired. I want you and I want to do it right, but I’m so annoyed right now. All I want to do is make you wet and fuck you until it hurts.” His fingers dipped before he leaned over me. “You keep pushing me,” he said aggressively as he flipped my bra up and slid his tongue across my nipple while he spread me wide. “You don’t want this, Stella.”