It wasn’t a question, but I still nodded my head slowly.
He took a deep breath in through his nose, and for the first time since he started explaining to me why he wanted this, his eyes left mine—but only to fall over my face for a few seconds. “Did I just scare you with everything I said?”
“No,” I said so softly, I might have only mouthed it.
Coen’s lips formed a sad smile, and I cupped his face in my hands.
“You didn’t. I hadn’t . . . well I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but definitely not something that beautiful.”
“Beautiful?”
“Yeah, Coen, that was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. All of it—including the demons.”
“You’re wondering about them,” he guessed.
I shifted my weight and bit down on the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want him to think I’d been lying to him, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment he’d somehow created with his perfectly haunting words.
“Reagan—”
“Only because of Parker. Coen, I swear when you said that my first thought was I couldn’t possibly be the girl you were describing, and I wanted so badly to be her—”
“Just answer. Did. I. Scare you?”
For long seconds, there was no sound except for our breaths as our faces stayed inches apart. Nothing else. The cars on the street, the people walking by—everything else was tuned out as I studied the worry in his dark eyes. “You didn’t scare me, but there’s something about you that makes me drop my guard, so I need to know: Should I be scared? For Parker . . . should I be scared of your demons, Coen?”
“I’ll never do anything to put Parker in danger, and he’s not in danger from me. Your brother would never have even considered letting me near you if there was a chance of that. There’s just . . . there are things that happened over the years in the army that have stayed with me, and will always stay with me. Things that I wish I’d never seen, things that I can’t talk about even still, and some of them your brother doesn’t know about. But you don’t have anything to be worried about. Okay?”
“I don’t like that for you,” I whispered, and he laughed humorlessly.
“I don’t either, Duchess. But you help.”
He started leaning forward to kiss me when his phone went off again. Looking at the screen, he rolled his eyes. “Yes?” Putting a hand between my body and the car, he pulled me forward and turned me to walk toward the driver’s seat. “We’re leaving right now . . . No I haven’t been making out with her this whole time, fuck, Hudson. We were talking . . . Yeah, you know the thing people do when they’re getting to know each other? . . . Fuck off, you’re not punching me, because your sister’s fine, I didn’t touch her. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“He won’t really punch you,” I said when I started my car back up.
“Oh, no. He will. I’m just hoping it’s only one hit.” He smiled wide before leaning in the open window. “So, are we on the same page now?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
He narrowed his eyes before kissing me quickly. “Drive safe, Reagan.”
I STAYED AT Coen’s for a few hours with Keegan and Erica, and after watching a movie and talking for a while, Keegan and Erica got up to leave. Coen hadn’t made a move to let me leave his arms, but Keegan threw me over his shoulder and walked me out to my car, saying I wasn’t allowed in Coen’s apartment without “Keegan supervision.” Oh, and Keegan didn’t punch Coen, even though he’d threatened to every time Coen touched or kissed me. Coen still owed me twenty dollars for that. As soon as I was in my apartment, I searched for my phone for twenty minutes before rushing through washing my face and brushing my teeth, and slipping into my pajamas and turning off all the lights and jumping into bed. I sat there trying to calm my breathing, and laughed at how ridiculous I was acting. I’d just spent hours with Coen, and I was still beyond excited for our phone call.
Bringing up his name on my phone, I tapped on the number and played with the ends of my hair as I waited for him to answer.
“Duchess.”
A soft breath rushed past my lips at the way his deep voice had my arms covered in goose bumps with just one word. With a shaky breath in, I fell back onto my pillows with a smile on my face—ready to fall asleep to his voice.
Chapter Five
Coen—August 29, 2010
REACHING FOR MY phone in the cup holder when it started ringing, I glanced at the name and a smile pulled at my lips. “Beautiful,” I said in way of greeting.
She laughed softly. “Delusional?”
“Good to know you still can’t take a compliment. What are you up to?”
“Parker’s at my parents’ again tonight,” she said after a few seconds of silence. “My parents wanted to keep him for the night because they want as much time with him as possible before he goes back to school next week. Or that’s what they used as an excuse anyway.”
My blood heated, and I swear my jeans shrunk. “Are you in need of a distract—shit.”
“What?”
“I’m on my way to a shoot, and the guy already paid me.” The second I’d seen her name on my phone, I’d forgotten I was even driving.
“Okay, well, have fun.” Her voice had the same sweet softness it always did, but I could hear the disappointment in her words.
This was bad, and it wasn’t me. I was getting ready to call off a shoot—something I never did—all because of a girl. “Come with me,” I said suddenly.
“What? No, it’s fine.”
“I’m serious, Reagan, come with me. It’s just going to be at my studio.”
“Coen”—she laughed softly—“go to your shoot. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You’re going to make me late if you don’t get in your car and get your ass over here.”
“Oh yeah? And how do you figure that?”
I pulled into the back lot at my studio, but didn’t put my car in park as I said, “Because I’m about to turn my car around and come pick you up.”
“Do you always get your way?”
“Yeah,” I said without hesitation.
After a few moments of silence, she sighed and gave in. “Fine. Fine, I’m on my way.”
“See you soon.”
I pressed the END button, put the car in park and turned it off before climbing out of it. Knowing Reagan was about to see what I’d given up my career to do, I couldn’t stop smiling as I got everything ready for the shoot. My client arrived a handful of minutes later, and after talking more about what he wanted and throwing around some ideas, we started. I tried not to think about the fact that Reagan should have been there ten minutes before. Turning music on as loud as it would go and putting my phone on vibrate so I would know if she called, I tried to focus on my client and what we were going for with this shoot, and not where my mind was wandering to.
By the time the hour-long shoot ended, I was irritated and worried, and had this annoying feeling crawling up the back of my neck. I was trying not to snap at my client and wondering how I’d managed not to break my phone yet.
Reagan hadn’t shown, and she hadn’t called.
After he left, I flipped through the pictures and was glad I’d somehow managed to get more than enough shots that were perfect for what he wanted, but I felt bad that my client had had to put up with me. As I went through more pictures, I suddenly realized what the annoying feeling was that I’d been having, and my body stilled. Someone was watching me . . . but even as I realized it, I didn’t turn around. I knew it was her. I didn’t know how I knew, I just did.
“Can I help you?” I asked, never looking up from my camera.
“Get anything good?” Her voice was soft and gentle. Like she didn’t care at all that I’d been flipping out for the last hour.
“You c
ould have called.”
“Why would I have done that?”
I lowered my hands and lifted my head at the same time and just stared, seeing nothing, for a few seconds before turning to look at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? I thought you were coming here and you didn’t show!”
“I’m here aren’t I?” The knowing grin never left her face. “You said you always get your way . . . I had to make sure you didn’t this time. Besides, if you really wanted to know if I was coming or not, you could have called me.”
Setting my camera down, I began stalking toward her. “I can’t just stop a shoot so I can check up on you. You told me you’d be here, I trusted you were coming. Reagan, I’ve been going out of my mind wondering where you were. I didn’t know if you’d gotten in a wreck, if you just decided not to come . . . a thousand possibilities were running through my mind. I was acting like a dick to my client because of you, do you realize that?”
Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry you were worried, honestly I was just waiting for you to turn around . . . and right now, Coen, I’m just playing with you. I’ve been here for almost an hour, but because you didn’t notice me until just now . . . I thought I could tease you about it.”
“Don’t try to—”
“I’m serious! Call that guy and ask him! I walked in when he was changing into his red shirt, and we waved at each other! I just didn’t want to bother you during your shoot, so I waited back here and watched; I’m sorry you got that worried, I didn’t know. I kept thinking you would turn around, Coen, I swear to God.”
My breathing was ragged, and at some point I’d pinned her up against the back wall. My head understood that she was safe, I could see her, smell her, feel her chest pressed against mine. But my body was still shaking from the amount of adrenaline I had coursing through my veins at the thought of something happening to her, and then her playing me.
Dropping my head, I shook it to the side once and whispered gruffly, “What are you doing to me, Reagan?”
“I don’t know wh—I’m sor—do you want me to leave?”
“No, I don’t want you to leave. I want to know why you’re consuming me this way. I want to know why you’re all I can think about. Why the thought of something happening to you, or you standing me up, can completely ruin me like this. I want to know what it is about you that has me so fucking turned around for the first time in my life.”
She touched the side of my face and put pressure there until I looked back to her, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and filled with wonder. “I’ve avoided men for six and a half years, Coen . . . what is it about you that has me anxiously waiting for a chance to be near you again?”
I pressed my body closer to hers and dropped my forehead onto hers.
“Everything about you scares me,” she admitted quietly.
I ground my jaw and mentally cursed myself for letting her see me frustrated just then. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Reagan.”
“Don’t. You know you and your demons don’t scare me.” She shook her head slowly. “What you can do to me . . . what you can do to Parker. What letting you into our lives can do to us . . . that is what scares me. You have the power to ruin him, Coen, and knowing that makes me want to grab Parker and run.”
“Or maybe I’ll surprise you,” I whispered against her lips. Interlocking our fingers, I raised our hands above our heads and pressed them against the wall. “I respect you for what you’ve done for him. I respect you for being scared for your son. But I know that if you let me in, I’m getting you and Parker . . . not just you.”
Reagan’s eyes met and held mine, and I moved both her hands into one of mine and brought my free hand to cup her cheek.
“When I met you, I already knew what you came with. I don’t want to see what I can get from you only on nights when your son is gone, Reagan. I want to see what we can be together, and I know that includes your son getting to know me.”
“I’ve never introduced a guy to him,” she confessed after a few silent seconds, and I smiled.
“Technically, you’ve already introduced us, and we already know he likes me.” Reagan’s eyes narrowed and I brushed my lips across her nose. “You’ve also never had a guy pursuing you who wasn’t afraid of your walls or the fact that you have a son.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked, and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Pursuing me?”
“Yeah, Duchess. Glad you finally caught on.” Pressing my mouth firmly to hers, I teased her lips with my tongue and squeezed my hand tighter around hers when she opened her mouth to me. “Let me surprise you,” I begged against her lips.
“I’m waiting,” she challenged, and when I looked at the heat in her hazel eyes, I knew the direction of the conversation had changed.
Her breasts moved against my chest with each breath she took, and when I looked down to her parted lips, it was her turn to squeeze my hand from where I still kept them resting high up on the wall. With the hand that had been cupping her cheek, I moved my fingers down her throat, and my lips twitched when I felt her pulse thrumming beneath my fingertips.
Placing my lips on her pulse point, I let my fingers continue a trail down to the low cut of her shirt, and pulled it down even more, revealing her lace-covered breasts. Making a line of openmouthed kisses down the path my fingers had just taken, I took one of her breasts in my mouth and sucked on her hardened nipple through the lace.
Reagan moaned and arched her back against the wall, and her fingers dug into my hand almost to the point of pain when I raked my teeth across her nipple.
“Coen, please,” she whimpered. “Touch me.”
I let my hand lazily glide down to the top of her shorts, and had just started trying to unbutton them when I remembered where we were. Remembered that I had her pressed against a wall. Releasing her shorts and breast, I moved my mouth back up her chest to her neck, and used my hand to right her shirt.
“Not here,” I whispered against her neck.
She pulled back, her eyes wide. “You . . . you want to stop?”
I looked at my studio and shook my head as I released her hands. “I just don’t want to do this with you here. Let me take you back to my place.”
I’d had meaningless sex in my studio too many times over the years, and the thought of being with Reagan on the same furniture seemed wrong. Like it would cheapen everything about us. Not that there was technically an us yet, but she didn’t deserve that, and I didn’t want that. I wanted somewhere that didn’t have drunken one-night memories attached to it.
Grabbing her hand, I shut off the lights in my studio as we walked through it, and locked the door behind us once we were outside. I noticed Reagan grabbing her keys out of her purse and raised an eyebrow at her.
“I just figured I’d follow you,” she said, and her cheeks turned red. “You know, so I could leave, um, after or . . . or in the morning.”
Biting back a smile, I nodded and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. “So you plan on staying the night, huh?”
“No, I—”
“I never said that was a bad thing, Duchess.”
Reagan’s tense body instantly relaxed, and when I pulled away from her she was biting down on the inside of her cheek and her face was red. Fuck, she was adorable.
I walked her to her SUV and waited until she was inside before going to my car and getting in, and as soon as we were on our way to my condo, the direction of my thoughts changed.
Now that I could think clearly without Reagan’s body pressed against mine, I knew that taking her back to my place was the wrong move. I’d just told her I was different. I’d just told her I didn’t want to see what I could get from her on nights when her son wasn’t with her. And yet, the first two nights we were alone—the first two nights we even spent time together—things progressed quickly, and only stopped because of
a phone ringing, and the fact that I didn’t want to be with her on a couch where I’d fucked random women.
The fact that I could still feel her body against me, the fact that the way she’d softly moaned was still replaying in my mind, and the fact that I was still hard as shit had me wanting to continue the drive to my condo. But I couldn’t do this to her.
Pulling over into an Italian restaurant’s parking lot, I got out of my car and waited for her to do the same.
“Uh . . . this isn’t your place,” she said, her confused tone making it sound more like a question.
“I know.” I nodded and pulled her into my arms. “But I just told you I wanted to surprise you, and the path we were on was the opposite of that. So I’m going to take you to dinner, and at the end of dinner I’m going to walk you back out here, kiss you good night, and go back to my condo alone.”
I held my breath as I waited for her reaction, and told myself again that this was the right thing to do. And as soon as her face lit up in the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen, I knew it had been. Brushing a soft kiss across her lips, I slid my arm around her waist and walked us toward the restaurant.
Reagan—August 31, 2010
MY PHONE RANG as I pulled into my parents’ driveway, and I couldn’t have contained my smile no matter how hard I tried when I saw his name on my screen.
“Hey!”
He laughed quietly. “I love that you don’t try to hide the fact that you’re excited to talk to me.”
Capturing Peace Page 7
