“He’s awful.”
“He’s a disaster, yes,” he agrees, nodding his head. “But so is Elizabeth.”
I huff a laugh. “She’s literally perfect!” I insist, pointing to the screen as Elizabeth twirls past.
“She’s stubborn and impulsive,” he counters. “And assumes she knows everything abouteverything, especially Darcy.”
“That’s just a woman’s intuition,” I say, matter-of-factly, throwing a piece of popcorn into my mouth.
“That’s called judging a book by its cover,” he shoots back.
Something about the way he says that, like he’s referring to himself and not the movie, has my chest tightening. “Is that something people do to you a lot?”
His smile fades, and a heartbeat passes between us before he answers, “Yeah. More than you’d think.”
Something in the air shifts, like he’s sharing a secret just between the two of us.
“Because of your last name?” I ask.
“Because of my last name,” he repeats, nodding, “and because of who my family is. What they expect. What they want me to be.”
“And do you want to be who they expect you to be?”
“No. God, no,” he says, shaking his head.
I shrug, throwing another piece of popcorn into my mouth. “Then the solution is simple, don’t be.”
He laughs, seemingly lost in thought. “It’s more complicated than that.”
I stay quiet, letting the silence stretch between us.
“Wantdoesn’t matter when your name is bigger than you are,” he finally says, staring at the screen, but not really watching. “People hear the name Sullivan, and they stop seeing a person. They see a legacy, a future, a role I’m supposed to fill without question. It’s like my whole life was mapped out long before I ever had a say, and now I’m just following a script everyone else wrote for me.”
I nod, taking in his words but finding it hard to relate to such hardships. My name has never been mine to own. It never came with the grave expectations of everyone else around me. But as I look at Reed and see the man just beneath the surface of the picture he portrays to the world, I think maybe we aren’t so different from one another after all, longing to find our places amongst the sea of infinite obstacles washing in before us. “Want to know what I see?”
Reed’s head lolls towards me against the back of his seat, and a smirk plays at his lips. “Do tell.”
“I see someone trying,” I say softly, meeting his gaze. “Someone who fights to be more than what everyone elsedecided he should be. Someone who doesn’t realize how much that matters. Sometimes the effort one makes is worth more than the weight of gold in the end.”
He stares at me for a moment, looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time and something akin to sadness flickers over his features. “You give me too much credit, Gravenhurst.”
I smile, raising my brows. “Well, then I take it back.”
Dimples immediately form on his cheeks, and a warm laugh escapes me.
When I look back at Reed, his eyes are lingering on my lips, and my smile falters a smidge. “What?”
“You’re the kind of beautiful that ruins men like me, Gravenhurst,” he says, leaning towards me, capturing my jaw in his palm. Before I can say another word, he presses his soft lips against mine. I still for a moment. My heart flutters in my chest, and I run my hand through his golden locks, deepening our kiss. He kisses me with fervour, cupping the nape of my neck, and when I lightly pull his bottom lip between my teeth, he lets out a needy groan. Without hesitation, he slides his hand to my waist, pulling me onto his lap. Heat pools in my core as I straddle him, feeling his length hardening just beneath his jeans. It’s been a long while since I’ve allowed a man to touch me, let alone someone whose company I actually enjoy. His roaming hands ignite a fire inside of me, and it feels as if at any moment now I’ll burst into flames, reducing to ashes beneath his touch. I gently rock my hips against him, getting carried away in the moment, and he lifts his hips slightly, pressing his cock into me, assuring me the feelings are mutual. Suddenly, he breaks away from me, and I immediately mourn the loss of his lips. Our chests heave against each other as we catch our breaths, and I can see a mix of conflicting emotions behind his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he says, clearly worked up as he runs a thumb over my bottom lip. “We should take things slow.” Nowthoseare words I’ve never heardbefore.
I nod slowly, agreeing, despite the ache between my thighs. “Yeah, of course.”
He offers me a weak smile, then places a long kiss against my lips. It’s more than a kiss, though. It’s a promise, a claim. “Come on, trouble, let’s get out of here.”
NINE
VERENA GRAVENHURST