Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Well, clearly, I’m an idiot, and Rhett was right. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him.
As I set Reagan down on my bed, she looks like she’s either going to burst into tears or claw my eyes out. I’m hoping for the latter. I do not think I can survive a crying Reagan.
“I don’t want this to be like every other time,” I say.
“Does that mean you want to date other people?” Her tone is fragile but hard as nails. I don’t know how she manages to be vulnerable and badass at the same time, but it’s hot.
And wait, what? Date other people? The fuck?
“No, it sure as shit doesn’t mean that.”
“Oh.” Her lips form the sound and stay that way while she processes my words. She’s probably thinking I’m a moron. Welcome to the club.
“I was working with a theory tonight that if I did the opposite of what I wanted, maybe I wouldn’t screw this up.
I need to take this slow. We’ve been hanging out every second, and it’s been amazing, but I want to do things right this time.
I should have just told you what was going on, but this is new territory for me. ”
What I don’t say is I really like her. A lot.
This week has been awesome. When this started, I didn’t give my past much thought.
I was so excited to spend more time with her and explore this thing between us.
But now that I’m starting to develop real feelings for her, I have to wonder if I’m leading us down a path that ends like all my other relationships.
“You ignored me because you like me?”
“Yeah, next I’ll be kicking your shins and pulling your hair.” I hang my head for a second, trying to get my shit together. Doubting myself is new. I don’t like it.
“That last one doesn’t sound so bad.”
I look up as she swallows, and her gaze drops to my chest.
That look—the one of desire as she checks me out, I can work with that. In here, we make sense. This is uncomplicated. It’s everywhere else that I haven’t quite figured out. How do I date her without falling into the same old cycle?
I climb onto the bed, forcing her onto her back. “It doesn’t, huh?”
Instead of answering, she pulls my face down to hers. It’s a lot easier to shut down my brain when she’s touching me.
Her kisses are as hungry as mine. You’d think it would be easy to slow it down. I’m good at following rules, especially my own. But where Reagan is concerned, I’m turning into a loose cannon. I let go of my worry about going too fast. Slow is dumb… and, well, slow.
I undress her fast and drop my pants even faster. Damn, she’s beautiful. Blonde hair tumbling past her shoulders, brown eyes the color of cinnamon. And those dimples. They knock the air out of me when she flashes a big smile that makes them appear. And somehow, below the neck, it just gets better.
Why would anyone want to deny themselves this? They wouldn’t. I really am an idiot.
I turn her onto all fours and latch on to her pussy from this angle until she writhes and moans. While I rip open the condom packet and then cover myself, she hums impatiently. “I need you.”
“Yeah?” I ask, nudging the head of my cock at her entrance.
I get an unintelligible response as she pushes into me, driving me farther inside of her slick heat.
Sliding my hand up her back to the nape of her neck, I bury myself as far as I can go then still. “Does it feel like I want to date other people?”
She shakes her head.
I tangle my fingers in her hair and gently tug. Her graceful neck twists until she’s looking me in the eye.
“No one else, baby. This pussy.” I pull out, slowly, letting her squeeze me all the way to the tip before driving back in. “It’s mine.”
Words aren’t necessary, or possible, after that.
I take her hard and fast, showing her the only way I know how that I want her.
There’s nothing I can say to make her believe doing things differently with her isn’t purely selfish.
She knows me and my patterns. I keep forgetting that.
I settle for leaving us both panting and limp against the mattress. Actions speak louder than words, baby.
I discard the condom and fall beside her.
“I hope you don’t mind if I sleep over because I don’t think I can move.”
I wrap an arm around her waist and bring her closer. “Nah, I don’t mind at all.”
I’m in the kitchen the following morning, cooking oatmeal and downing a Gatorade.
Reagan’s sitting on the countertop next to the stove, sipping coffee and watching me.
Looking damn good doing it too. She pulled on one of my T-shirts earlier, and it hangs off one shoulder and leaves her legs bare.
My closet has become her new wardrobe, and I’m not mad about it.
I drop a kiss on her lips. “You want some?”
“Uhh, no. I’m good.”
Rhett stumbles out of his room in sweatpants with his phone in hand.
“‘Morning, sunshine,” I quip. His hair sticks up all over his head, and his eyes are barely open. “Are you expecting a call from Carrie, or are you just used to carrying that thing with you at all times?”
He stares down at his hand as if he’s just realized he’s holding it. “Habit, I guess.” He places it on the counter and takes a seat at one of the barstools. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Oatmeal,” Reagan says and makes a face over her mug.
“I was hoping your presence had inspired something more flavorful.” He grimaces.
I’m used to the guys ribbing me and then eating it despite their complaints. I look to Reagan. “You don’t like oatmeal?”
I add blueberries and turn the heat down.
“It’s so boring and healthy,” she says.
“Right?” Rhett chuckles.
I didn’t even think to ask her. Before Reagan, I always stayed at my girlfriends’ places instead of having them stay here. I’d get up, usually before them, and be gone before breakfast. I eat the same thing almost every day, but my boring oatmeal never came up.
“Do you want me to make you something else?” I ask her.
“No.” She shakes her head. “Breakfast before ten isn’t really my thing. Healthy or not.”
“I’ll take pancakes,” Rhett calls.
“Someone say pancakes?” Mav busts through the front door, Charli at his heels. He’s still in his boxers, no shirt, like it’s perfectly normal to walk up a flight of stairs from his apartment to ours half-dressed searching for food. And with his dog, no less.
“Oatmeal’s done.” I grab a bowl for myself and then let them have at it.
I step between Reagan’s legs. “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?”
“I’m sure. I’ll wait until an appropriate hour and grab a muffin and coffee somewhere.”
“But I’ve got this perfectly cooked oatmeal.” I spoon some up and wave it in front of her face.
Her lips draw into a flat line, and her head shakes side to side.
“Come on. Open up. You’ll like it. It’s good for you.”
She smiles but doesn’t open.
“Fine.” I eat it and then press my mouth to hers.
“No fair.” She opens, and I sweep my tongue inside. What was meant to be a quick, teasing kiss turns into a mini make-out session.
“Maybe I do like oatmeal.”
When I step back, I realize the guys are watching us. And at some point, Ginny and Heath joined.
“Good morning,” I say to the room.
“It certainly is.” Mav smirks. “Breakfast and a show.”
Reagan hops down from the counter. “I’ve gotta get going. We have rehearsal this afternoon.”
I abandon my oatmeal and follow her into my room. She strips out of my shirt and starts to pull on her own clothes. To which I greatly detract progress by running my hands along her bare skin and kissing her stomach and then her neck.
“Are you coming to the game this afternoon?” I ask as I sit on the bed and use her hips to pull her closer to me.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah, of course, but you said you had rehearsal.”
“I’ll be done in time, but you’re sure? You want to take things slow, and—”
“I suck at slow. No more trying to go against the grain. Everything is different because it’s us. Come to the game.”
“Okay.” Her lips pull into a smile. “And us, we’re what? Dating? Sleeping together?”
“We’re…. whatever,” I say. “Exclusively.”
“Exclusively whatever. Got it.”
“Let’s not label it. That part seems to get me in trouble. I like you.”
Her light laughter does funny things to my chest.
“Some might say I’m your girlfriend,” she quips.
“Totally different thing,” I assure her with a grin.
“Good, I’ve got money on you being single until summer.”
My mouth falls open.
“Gotcha!”
“Let me walk you home,” I say as she heads to leave.
“I live fifteen feet away. I’ll manage. Besides, that sounds like something a boyfriend would do.”
So it does.
She brushes her mouth against mine so quickly I almost miss it, and then she’s gone.
When I go back out to the living room, it’s just Rhett and Mav. I drop into a chair.
Maverick’s grinning at me like a fool.
“Something to say?” I ask.
“So many things. I’m trying to decide where to start.”
“Get it all out.” I raise my arms to my side. I can take whatever these guys can dish.
“What are your intentions?”
“Excuse me?” A chuckle escapes.
“I like Reagan. Always have. And let’s face it, buddy, your track record is shit.” Mav crosses his arms over his chest. Charli whines.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I flip him off.
“What are your intentions?” Rhett asks.
“You too? Seriously?”
He shrugs. “I was hanging with her last night. She likes you a lot. I can tell.”
“I like her too.”
“Have you made it official?” Mav asks. His gaze darts to Rhett and then back to me.
“He knows about the bet,” Rhett tells him. “You don’t need to dance around it.”
“How?” Mav wails.
“You idiots weren’t exactly quiet about it,” I say.
“The bet’s off then. You’ve got a new girlfriend.” Mav claps his hands and looks to Rhett. “Who won?”
Rhett pulls out his phone. It’s of no surprise to me that my best buddy is the one who’s running the betting circle around my relationship status. He’s the most competitive guy I know.
“Looks like you’re the closest, Mav.”
He shoots up off the couch and starts dancing around the living room. He’s bumping into shit and knocking things off the coffee table.
“Sit down. No one won. She’s not my girlfriend.”
“But…” Mav looks so crestfallen.
“What is going on?” Ginny comes out of Heath’s room. He’s right behind her.
“Your dipshit brother is still single.” Mav sits back down on the couch with a frown.
“That’s it?” Ginny places her hands on her hips. “I thought something awesome happened.”
I just smile as the guys grumble about the bet. Maybe she’s not my girlfriend, but something awesome has definitely happened.