Eight
EIGHT
Hart
One month later
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Five words I didn’t know I didn’t want to hear until she said them.
I’d just arrived at Reagan’s place after a long day at work, and I’d barely made it into her living room when she turned and uttered those five awful words.
My body went rigid.
She couldn’t do this anymore?
I panicked.
“Reagan, if there’s something I?—”
“It’s just not fair.”
My feet carried me forward. When I stopped directly in front of her, I lifted my hand to the side of her face and stroked my thumb along her jaw. “What’s not fair?”
She didn't immediately respond as her eyes roamed over my face. Nothing in her expression revealed what was going through her mind. I was left trying to come up with some alternative explanation for that declaration she’d made, but nothing seemed plausible beyond the obvious.
What was I going to do if she said she wanted this to end?
“You always get to start the fun.”
I blinked in surprise. “What?”
A slow smile spread across her face. “I want to be the one to start the fun today. It’s been months, and you’re the one who always seems to be in charge. It’s not fair. I could die tomorrow. I could have died today, and I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to ever take the lead.”
The relief I felt was so immense, there was no way to quantify it. She wasn’t looking to put a stop to what we had; she just wanted to change things up.
I never thought I’d be the kind of man who’d be ready to bow down and let a woman take the lead, especially when this wasn’t supposed to be about anything more than just sex, but here I was, prepared to do whatever it took to keep Reagan happy.
My hand drove back into her hair and lightly gripped a fistful as I returned her smile. “How would you like to make that happen, shortcake?”
Genuine surprise washed over her expression, her eyes dancing with delight. Evidently, Reagan hadn’t believed that I was going to agree to whatever terms she had. “Are you serious? You’re okay with it?”
I dipped my chin as I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. “I am. But I’m curious what brought this on.”
“Well, like I said, I almost died today.”
My hold on her tightened. “You weren’t just saying that flippantly?”
Reagan shook her head. “I don’t tend to joke about dying. Though, maybe I am being slightly dramatic about this particular instance.”
“What happened?”
“I was on my way to a showing this afternoon,” she started. I tried reminding myself that she was here in my arms and safe, so there was no need to react negatively before she shared the full story. After I offered a reassuring squeeze, she continued. “I was on the highway, driving along, and at the last moment, the car in front of me swerved out of the way into the next lane. They’d done it too late, which meant I didn’t have enough time to do the same.”
“Considering I saw your car outside when I pulled up, I can assume there wasn’t a disabled vehicle in the middle of the highway.”
“No. But there was a mattress.”
“What?”
Nodding furiously, her eyes were wide, and expression animated. “Crazy, right? A whole entire mattress just sitting there in the middle of the lane. And I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t swerve, because I would have hit somebody in the next lane, and I couldn’t stop fast enough.”
I eyed her curiously, trying to ignore how much I liked seeing her excitement as she told me this story. “Can I ask what you did do?”
Reagan lifted her shoulders toward her ears, her head tipping slightly to one side, and pressed her lips together to stifle a grin. “I didn’t have much of a choice. I drove over it.”
“You drove over a mattress?”
“Yes.”
“In your car?”
“Yep. I was going sixty-five miles an hour, too.”
“And you didn’t get into an accident?”
“Nope. It was crazy, honestly. I just drove right over it, and somehow, I didn’t damage my car or crash and die.”
I stared at her, feeling such disbelief. She drove over a mattress on the highway, and she didn’t do any damage to her vehicle or wind up seriously injured. She was standing here in my arms, smiling, her eyes alight. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel bad about the fact I enjoyed being around a woman in this capacity.
Before I could bring myself to respond to her, to not be distracted by all that I was feeling, Reagan decided to share more. “Anyway, even if I can look back on it now and laugh about how crazy it was, the reality is that I was terrified in that moment. And the truth is, I really could have died. So, I just think it’s fair for you to indulge me and let me take the lead tonight. Otherwise, I really might just go off the deep end more than I already have.”
Keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her, I lifted my other hand up to the side of her face and brushed my knuckle down her cheek. “I don’t think you’ve done anything that indicates you’ve gone off the deep end, Reagan.”
“That’s because you’re here now. If you had arrived about two and a half hours ago, you might have felt differently.”
“Why is that?”
Her expression turned serious. “I made chocolate mousse.”
Cocking a brow, I asked, “Is that a bad thing?”
“It is when you’ve never made it before, and you aren’t sure you know what you’re doing.”
Intrigued, I pressed for more. “So, did you taste it? Was it good?”
“It needed about two hours to chill, so I haven’t tried it yet.”
I grinned. “What are we waiting for?”
She shook her head.
“Are you denying me a taste of your first attempt at chocolate mousse?”
Reagan shoved her palms playfully against my chest. “I think I want to be certain you’ll come back. I mean, what if I did something wrong, and it tastes terrible? Or, worse, what if it poisons you?”
“Do you plan on eating some?”
“Sure. Eventually. I should at least try it out and see how it is.”
“So, we’ll be sick together if that happens.”
Reagan stared at me for several long moments, considering my words. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she declared, “You’re a very big mystery, Hart. I hope you know that.”
Without giving me the opportunity to respond—though I wasn’t quite sure what I would have said—Reagan pressed her palms against my chest again, but this time, she stepped away. Then she took me by the hand and led me to the kitchen.
And the whole way there, I thought about how much things had changed ever since I met her. In the beginning, I had assumed I liked being around her simply because she was new and exciting.
But that hadn’t dwindled.
In fact, she’d gotten better as time went on.
I always felt good being around her. But now, there was more.
Now, it wasn’t merely getting together and hooking up. It wasn’t just sex with her that gave me a break from the bad things in life.
It was me looking forward to the distractions she provided in other ways. In her conversation, in sharing food, and in hearing stories about things that happened to her throughout her day.
It was me looking for ways to spend more and more time with her that had nothing to do with the physical intimacy.
It was Reagan taking me by the hand and leading me through her home to the kitchen, so we could try the dessert she’d made.
We made it to the kitchen, where she released my hand and moved to the refrigerator. Reagan pulled out two small dishes, used her hip to shut the door, and walked back in my direction.
“Before I allow you to try this, you have to promise you won’t stop coming here to visit, even if it tastes terrible.”
My expression softened, something squeezing in my chest. At this point, I wasn’t quite sure what it would take for me to stop coming to visit her. Maybe if she went back on our arrangement and sought out something more?
“You won’t get rid of me that easily, shortcake. If it tastes terrible, I’ll just eat you instead.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m in charge tonight. Don’t forget.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Reagan hesitated a beat before setting the mousse down to grab spoons. She held one out to me, and I couldn’t miss the worried look in her eyes as she watched me lift the dish in my hand and slip the spoon into the dessert.
While she remained frozen to the spot, not daring to do the same, I happily lifted the spoon to my mouth. Reagan swallowed roughly, her lips parting.
“Is it… Is it terrible?”
I slid the spoon into the mousse once more, but instead of lifting it to my mouth, I held it up to hers. “Try it.”
She took the bite, her eyes blinking with surprise as the flavor hit her tongue. “Wow.”
I beamed at her. “It’s excellent, Reagan.”
“It’s really good. I did a great job.”
The sound of my laughter filled the air. “You did fantastic. I’m not keen on hearing about you winding up in a situation like you did today, but I’m glad you found a way to turn it around. This is delicious.”
Reagan’s chin tipped down as her cheeks turned pink. It wasn’t the first time she’d shown me that shy side, but it was safe to say it was really beginning to grow on me.
The two of us remained standing in the kitchen, eating dessert and getting lost in penetrating stares. Reagan shoved her shoulder playfully into me twice, and it was everything I could do not to wrap my arm around her and curl her into my chest in a claiming and possessive way.
I shook my head, needing to get a grip.
I couldn’t continue to do this. Though I wasn’t remotely prepared to give her up, I needed to find a way to stop getting distracted by all the little things she did that made my heart beat a little faster.
Sex.
This needed to be about sex.
And only the occasional conversation.
Perhaps a dessert or a shared meal, too.
But that’s it.
That’s all it could be.
“So, you’re in charge,” I declared, needing a new kind of distraction. “Now that we’ve had some dessert, how do you intend to get things going here?”
Reagan pulled the spoon—which was flipped upside down on her tongue—out of her mouth. I heard it clang to the countertop behind me as she licked her lips and brought her hands to the fly of my jeans.
“You always get to taste me first. Tonight, I’m going first. And I’m not going to stop until I’ve taken you over the edge.”
I was hard just thinking about having her mouth wrapped around me. Feeling her knuckles brush against my skin as she sought to remove my jeans didn’t help to ease that. “Given the day you had, I’ll allow it. Though you should be aware of something,” I warned her.
Reagan barely pushed my underwear down far enough to free me and curl her fingers around me. She stroked firmly. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
“I’m going to have to do what it takes to get myself going again, and that’s likely going to mean a significant amount of teasing being done to you.”
She stroked me again. “Like I expected anything less from you.”
Before I could say anything in response, she lifted onto her toes and kissed me. Then she slowly lowered herself down to her knees and took me into her mouth.
And with the warmth and wetness of her mouth wrapped around my cock, I failed to keep that line from blurring. I might not have wanted to think too deeply about the things she did that I liked so much, but looking down at her as she moaned and sucked me, I’d be recalling the memory long after I left her place tonight.
* * *
Reagan
Three Months Later
Just a few more hours left until this day was over.
It’s not that I had anything against the day. If things in my life were different, I was confident I’d have a different perspective. I’d probably look forward to this time of the year.
Because things always slowed down at work, and since there was no family or close friends to spend time with, I had copious amounts of time on my hands.
Regardless of the reasons I had to feel lonely or upset, I tried to focus on the things I had to be grateful for.
Today was Christmas Day.
And every year, to show some appreciation for the good things I did have in my life, I woke up and volunteered. I spent my morning serving breakfast and celebrating Christmas with the families at the local homeless shelter. It always made me feel better on a day when it would have been easy to sit and sulk over the relationships—romantic, platonic, and familial—I didn’t have in my life.
I returned home this afternoon feeling good about what I’d done, and I made myself a nice meal before lounging in front of the couch with Christmas movies. I’d watched two of them and decided to pull out my journal.
No matter how hard I tried to treat today like any other day, or to not allow myself to get too caught up in my feelings, it was challenging. Like I always did whenever I had things that I wanted to get off my chest, I pulled out my journal and wrote.
But I’d gotten no more than halfway through my thoughts when a knock came at my door.
Caught off guard, my body tensed.
Who the heck was here on Christmas?
Abandoning my journal on the couch, I got up and walked to the front door. I nearly burst into tears at the person standing there.
“Hart? What are you doing here?”
He held up a reusable grocery bag between us and said, “Merry Christmas, Reagan.”
I blinked my eyes in surprise and took a step back. “What?”
Hart stepped forward, closing the door behind him. “It’s Christmas, so I thought I’d stop by to visit with you. You didn’t make plans since we talked about Christmas a week ago, did you?”
My heart was in my throat. He’d asked me about Christmas last week, but I thought it was just casual conversation. I hadn’t realized there was a reason for it.
I pressed my lips together to rein in the emotions and shook my head. “No.”
“I spent the morning and early afternoon with my family, and I had a nice day, but before I left my gram’s house this afternoon, I told her I had somewhere else to be for dinner. I thought you and I could have Christmas dinner together.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “Why not? The holiday is for family and friends. I’d like to think we could be considered friends.”
Unable to hold myself back any longer, I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around Hart, and rasped, “Merry Christmas.”
He hugged me back as a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek.
I hadn’t anticipated anything like this. Despite the mystery surrounding him from the day I first saw him until now, Hart had been such a bright spot in my life.
And this, what he’d done today, had gone beyond anything I could have ever hoped to have. It was so sweet. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a true friend.
Loosening my hold on him, I stepped back and asked, “What did you bring?”
“Christmas cookies from my gram for dessert, plus all the ingredients we need to make dinner. Unless you already had something planned, I brought everything to prepare chicken parmesan and spaghetti. I hope that’s okay.”
It was a wonder I didn’t burst into tears. “That’s perfect.”
Hart and I made our way into the kitchen, where we dove in and prepared dinner together. It was, easily, the most fun I’d ever had on Christmas, and I’d never forget it.
When we’d finished eating, I felt compelled to share. “This was so nice of you to do, Hart. Thank you for coming over to spend some time with me today. It really means a lot.”
He offered a half-hearted smile. “Ah, it was no big deal. I figured we both needed to eat, and I thought it’d be more fun to do it together. When you told me a week ago that you didn’t have plans for today, I decided I wanted to do this. Nobody should spend the holiday alone.”
Warmth expanded in my chest. Although I felt a mix of emotions, I didn’t have the slightest clue how to express them. Or perhaps I didn’t trust myself to express them. At least, not with words.
It was strange.
I could kiss and hug Hart. I could touch and tease him with my hands. I could even strip down into nothing and share my body with him.
But when it came to conveying my emotions with words, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not when communicating any of it could lead to things changing for the worse between us.
I didn’t think my heart could handle it.
Maybe it was unwise to allow things to continue, but I couldn’t dream of letting him go. I could admit I was terrified that the day would come when he decided he no longer wanted what we had between us. But for now, I needed this, and I was going to soak up every minute of it I could get.
Hart treated me better than anyone had ever treated me in my life.
But I knew it was foolish. I hated to think I’d allowed my heart to get involved.
That was the last bit of myself I could hold on to. For what it was worth, Hart still didn’t share anything deeply personal with me. He was still one big mystery.
Refusing to focus on anything that would turn this happy occasion into something else, I pushed my chair back, walked over to him, and settled myself in his lap.
I kissed his cheek. “Did you get everything you asked Santa for this year?”
He chuckled. “I think I got enough.”
“Mmm. So, are there things you’re still hoping to get today?”
Hart cupped my jaw, his thumb gliding along it as his eyes roamed over my face. “I was hoping to join you in watching that favorite movie of yours you were talking about while we made dinner.”
My brows shot up. “Are you turning down sex?”
“I wouldn’t call it that. I’d call it giving you a gift today.”
“You brought me dinner and dessert.” That was more of a gift than I’d ever received. How could he not know that?
He dipped his chin, a smile on his face. “Yep. But what I want is to do something with you that you like doing. So, I thought we could take dessert to the couch and watch your favorite Christmas movie.”
Over the last several months, things had been feeling different with Hart. The more time I’d spent with him, the more I wondered if I’d made a mistake in entering this arrangement with him the way I had.
Was the reason things worked so well between us because there was no commitment? No expectations?
Would he ever want something more? Would I?
Swallowing past the thickness in my throat, I replied, “Okay. We can watch a movie and eat dessert together. I’d love that.”
With that, Hart and I cleaned up everything from dinner. Then we made our way to the couch with his grandmother’s Christmas cookies and put on my favorite Christmas movie.
But if I was honest, I found it difficult to focus.
Because I spent the better part of my time unable to ignore what Hart showing up meant to me and how badly I wished things were different for us.