Chapter 16 #2
Something loosened in my chest, like relief, like I had finally voiced something that had been gnawing at me. It spurred me on.
“Hildegard told us that you treat the food differently here,” I said. “Joy thought you might be drugging us.”
He chuckled, the sound sending goosebumps down my arms. “Just the alluring women. But I asked about you and you told me about your sister. Tell me about you.”
It was easier to focus on her. Easier than looking at myself, at the fear that still gripped me whenever I remembered the Scions, at the worry that I might fail at wielding at will, at my father in the infirmary and all the questions I still had.
But with the mountains before me and him at my back, it felt a little easier to speak.
“I’m thinking,” I said, sighing deeply, “that I shouldn’t want this, because if I do, it means I accept that we were lied to our entire lives.
I know Joy is upset about this, but I’m…
not. I’m angry, I think. But I’m not upset.
” My eyes shut. “Maybe you understand what I am feeling and can explain it to me.”
“It sounds confusing,” he said lightly. “Which is entirely reasonable, Jane. You’ve had disturbing news dropped in your lap.
” His arms tightened, drawing me against his chest. “If you need anything, and I do mean anything, all you have to do is tell me.” Then, quieter, amused, “I have a feeling there’s one very specific kind of comfort you could use right now.
Lucky for you, I happen to excel at that. ”
Laughing, I turned to face him and slid my arms around his neck. “What sort of comfort is that?”
“Sleep with me tonight,” Reagan said, his mouth brushing my ear, teeth grazing the shell, “and I’ll demonstrate. Thoroughly.”
I hummed. “I think I need information more than I need that.”
“When don’t you need more information?” he said, his lips trailing down my neck.
My grin unfurled at how right he was.
“But you need to remember,” he murmured, teeth nicking my throat and pulling a sound from me, “that even with so many surprises, some things stay the same. This. Us. It’s still the same.”
I lifted my chin, giving him room, and Reagan took it.
His mouth traced my jaw as though reacquainting himself with my taste. He nudged us back step by step until the wall met my spine, and then his lips finally claimed mine.
It startled me, the way his kiss landed low in my body. Kissing him was like a storm breaking, like the reckless urge to run into the rain despite the lightning.
Reagan pressed me against the wall between the glass windows, his tongue sliding into my mouth and all I could think was how he felt decadent and intoxicating and the same as I remembered.
Perhaps he felt so familiar because some part of me recognised his power, beckoning the one inside me that was the same. Gods, I would like to believe that.
But in that moment, I didn’t care.
My leg slid up his, my calf skimming the back of his thigh. Reagan caught the hem of my skirt, gathering the fabric and drawing it higher until it bunched at my hips, leaving my bottom bare. The air did nothing to cool me. Not when his hand followed, cupping me, coaxing the ache he’d already lit.
He bent his knees, drawing me flush against him, and the press of his arousal met the place where I’d begun to throb.
I caught his lower lip between my teeth, a wordless plea, my hands bracing against his shoulders as I urged him on.
His breath washed over my skin. “Do you see how exactly the same this is? The most important part of your life. Still unchanged.”
I smiled. “You are not the most important part of my life, Caed.”
His own grin pressed into my skin, as though he’d doubted that. When he spoke again, his voice turned unapologetically sinful. “Maybe.”
His hand slipped between us and drifted lower, curling between my thighs. My inhale came sharp.
“But I am your favourite. Or perhaps my fingers are. Or my tongue. Or my cock.” Those fingers traced a lazy circle against my underwear, and I moaned. “I’ll tell you what. I will let you decide.”
“How generous,” I said, my breath betraying me. “And that is the comfort you offered? Is that what you think I need?”
“You tell me,” Reagan said, his finger skimming the edge of the fabric, my focus narrowing on the movement until it was difficult to think. “What do you need?”
My toes curled, my words dissolving as his fingers hooked the band and lingered there.
“Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice dropping lower still. “What do you need?”
I held my breath in anticipation, my legs nearly shaking.
This. Him. I wanted him to touch me.
“If I answer that,” I whispered, “it doesn’t mean I am saying yes to Ladyship, right?”
I needed to know how he would understand this.
His forehead came to rest against mine. “No,” Reagan murmured. “No expectations. This is just for us. Everything stays the same.”
His power fluttered beneath my fingers, coiling around me like unseen arms, and I knew that even if my legs gave out, I wouldn’t fall.
The ache was fierce now, too sharp to ignore. I gave in.
“Then yes. I need you.”
I reached for his belt, unfastening the clasp and moving to the buttons. Reagan braced an arm against the wall, letting me undo his trousers. He urged my legs apart with his knee.
I cried out when he pressed those fingers against bare skin. His mouth parted, the corner of his lips pulling upwards. “You’re so exquisitely wet. Like always.”
My fingers closed around him, and I stroked, drawing a rough breath from his mouth. After what seemed like a long time, I felt it again, the need to rattle him before he did it to me.
“Yes,” I murmured. “You feel as hard as always too.”
Reagan groaned. “Let me take us to—”
I gasped as a blue sheen of light surged behind him, peering around his shoulder to find a nebulous shape perched on the balcony rail.
An owl. Barracus’s familiar.
Reagan glanced over his shoulder and cursed. It struck me then that we were on a balcony, in a public space. I let go of him.
“Can he see us?” I asked, horrified.
Reagan’s head swivelled back to me, the corner of his mouth tugging. “What would you do if I said yes?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Probably blame you. Say you compelled me.”
His shoulders shook with quiet amusement. “That would be impressively wicked,” he said, clearly pleased. “He cannot see us. But he is asking for me. I thought he’d already left with Elaith.”
He shut his eyes with a slow sigh. I used the moment to tug my skirt back down, not taking any chance. Reagan’s trousers hung open as he drew his hands away, but he made no move to button them. Instead, he lifted the fingers that had been on me and—
Oh.
I forgot how to breathe as Reagan brought them to his mouth, savouring each finger.
The gesture was so unapologetically wicked that my words evaded me. Reagan’s bright, intent gaze still held the same hunger.
When his eyes dipped to my skirt again, I just knew what he was about to say.
“It’s probably nothing,” Reagan said, already dipping his head toward me.
He was obviously lying. Barracus wouldn’t send a familiar just to wish him good night.
My hand rose to his chest as I smiled at his reaction. “Go. You can…comfort me later.”
He angled for my neck instead, a low sound rolling from him, long and rumbling against my throat, as though he were pouring all that pent-up want into the air. He pulled back, his eyes settling in resigned calm.
“Fine,” he said. “But we’ll finish this. Very soon.”