That sound was guaranteed to turn a full-grown man into an obnoxious teenager. He lunged for her.
Reagan shot sideways, laughing as she scampered across the neighbor’s yard. He pursued, chasing after her long strawberry hair, spurring her on faster. Good thing most of the block was dark—he probably looked like the kid trying to pull the little girl’s pigtails.
Giggling, Reagan bolted beneath a thin, low-hanging tree branch. Too late, he realized she’d pushed it out of her way. It snapped back and lashed him across the chest. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to throw his stride off. He stumbled for purchase, regained it quickly. But she gained wide-open ground and dashed across her front lawn.
He kicked it into high speed and reached her heels just as she hit the front porch. “Now you’ll pay,” he threatened amid chuckles. With one last burst of effort, he caught her by the wrist.
As he tugged on her to turn her around, she giggled again and jerked on the front door. Alex’s humor ground to a stop as the overhead beam jostled loose. One end slid toward her head.
He thrust his free hand up to bat it away, seconds before it connected with her shoulder. Reagan’s expression washed white. She recoiled as if she expected his reckless, hurried swat to connect with her face.
Alex froze. In the immediate and heavy silence, the board clattered to the front porch. No. He had to be imagining things. Those blue eyes absolutely were not filled with terror. They couldn’t be.
She cleared her throat, straightened, and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. When she blinked, whatever he’d seen in her eyes disappeared. But her smile didn’t return. She stepped inside the house, all traces of their play erased by a stiff demeanor.
His mind struggled to rationalize what he’d swear he’d just witnessed. It was natural for her to flinch—something was coming at her head. But she hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t noticed the board at all. Just his hand moving closer to her face.
Had someone hit her before? She’d married Drew young, didn’t speak to her family. Was this why? Had her fucking father been an abuser? Rage churned deep in his chest, tightening his muscles so hard he ground his teeth together.
“Reagan.” Alex stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
Before he could get another word out, she wrapped her arms around him and dragged him into a hungry kiss.
…
Just keep kissing him, and it will go away.
Reagan breathed through her nose, keeping her mouth fused to Alex’s, afraid if she stopped to drag in air, his questions would break free. In that half second of stillness when she’d realized he had never intended to hit her, she’d read the curiosity in his eyes. The mix of disbelief and understanding.
Son of a bitch…what the hell was wrong with her? She’d reacted on instinct. She knew Alex McCray would never hurt her. Not intentionally, at least. She’d moved past this, so why did her brain have to skip out and ruin a perfect evening?
She moved her hands up Alex’s corrugated chest, shutting off her brain and allowing herself to become lost in the greedy tangle of his tongue, the feel of his warm skin. What had happened on her doorstep was forgotten as his strong hands dipped over her bottom and squeezed, molding her against his body. His heart thumped hard beneath her fingertips. His breathing became labored.
The pressure in his fingers increased, biting into her buttocks as tension crept into his shoulders. She’d become familiar enough with his signs to know he was losing himself as well. Giving in to the desire that ignited every time they touched. As he tipped her pelvis into his, and she rubbed against the hard length of his cock, muted sounds of pleasure rumbled in the back of his throat. She curled her nails into his pectorals, aching need opening deep within.
“Alex.” She pulled back, panting. “God, you drive me crazy.”
He rested his forehead against hers, dragging in hard gulps of air. Eyes closed, he clenched his fingers once more in a hard grip that told her he clung to the edge of control. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, Reagan.”
That simple, hoarse statement went straight to her heart and melted it. She slid her hands down his chest, twined her fingers with his, and squeezed affectionately. “Make love to me in my bed. Please?”
At his slow nod, she turned toward the stairs. She tried not to hurry, tried not to let it show she was starved for his touch. But in the end, the twelve steps to her room became too much. She jogged the last few.
When they were inside with the door closed, Alex gathered her into his arms. He dragged his lips across hers, and then raked his teeth against the side of her neck. God, it was crazy how the littlest touch could make her feel like she was on fire. She slid both hands into his hair, pressing his mouth to her harder, tugging at the short strands as her knees threatened to give way.
“Kiss me,” she rasped.
He flicked his tongue out, trailed lazy little circles, and slowly worked his way back to her mouth. But he didn’t kiss her. He teased with fleeting little touches that were as soft as a butterfly’s caress and drove her half out of her mind. If he’d just…stay…put.
Reagan groaned. “Please. I love the way you kiss me.”
Alex brushed his mouth across hers once more, lingering longer as he whispered against her lips, “What’s so special about my kiss?”
“It’s like you’re starved. Starved for me.” Her voice lowered as embarrassment rose. Had she really admitted that? Did it sound too presumptuous? Dear Lord, don’t let him laugh.
He didn’t laugh. Nor did he sate her yearning by drawing her into that kiss.
He went utterly still, his shallow breath echoing in the room.
She squinted through the darkness to gauge his expression. What had she said wrong? Despite the shadows, she caught the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“I am starved for you, Reagan,” he confessed huskily. “I’ve been starved for five goddamn years. And if you were smart, you’d run like hell.”
Confused, she searched his face for what he wasn’t saying. “Why?”
He cupped a palm around the back of her head and drew his hand slowly down her hair, guiding her cheek to his shoulder. Like he didn’t want her looking at him as he spoke. “Because every time I touch you, I want more. And if we keep on like this, I’m going to want your goddamn heart.”
That did it—as if her body were molten wax, her knees buckled, and she crumpled into him. Only the fierce hold she maintained on his shoulders kept her from falling completely.
It’s already yours. The thought stopped on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say it. Yearned to tell him. But doing so would cross a line they didn’t dare breach until he knew everything.
Alex lifted her up and carried her to the bed. He set a knee on the mattress, laying her down gently as he lowered his body over hers. When he gazed into her eyes, emotion scalded into her, so hot, so raw, so everything she’d ever dreamed of.
“Do you want me still, Reagan? Knowing that?”
She framed his face between her palms and licked her lips. His gaze tracked the motion of her tongue, and the muscles on the edge of his jaw ticked. Did she dare say yes, knowing she might break him into pieces?
“I do.” The confession tumbled out breathlessly, beyond her control. Her heart was in charge now, and it didn’t give a damn about logic. It wanted him. Wanted to belong to him in every way possible. Body and soul.
With a throaty groan, Alex claimed her in a hot, ferocious kiss. His tongue delved deep, possessing her from the inside out. Stroking so perfectly the ache between her legs became painful. She shifted beneath the weight of his body, rubbing against the hard length trapped behind his fly just to find a little relief.
Shaking his head, Alex broke off the kiss. “Not without me.”
He reared back on his knees and reached for the fastener to her shorts. One deft twist of his wrist popped the button free. In seconds, he had both shorts and panties in a pile on the floor. The very air, s
till as it was, scraped across her nerve endings, and she whimpered, lifting her hips, in dire need of full body contact. Now.
Alex smoothed a rough hand down the top of her thigh. “Easy, sweetheart. Give me a second.”
As she nodded, he slipped off the bed and made quick work of his own clothes. Exquisitely naked, he rejoined her on the bed, kneeling between her calves, running his hands up and down the outside of her legs. “Open for me,” he whispered.
She complied, unhesitatingly.
He shimmied toward the foot of the mattress, then stretched out, lowering his head. His breath dusted across the juncture of her legs, the heat almost too much to bear. She bit down on her lower lip and tensed, certain if he put his mouth on her, she’d come apart at the barest touch.
But she didn’t. When Alex dipped his tongue between the wet folds of her sex and licked her slowly, she didn’t shatter in his hands. Instead, the gnawing hunger deepened even more. She arched her back, pressing into the slick slide of his tongue, twisting her head against the intense pleasure.
He slid one finger inside as his mouth found her clit. In…out…in… He thrust slowly and steadily, all the while stroking the sensitive little nub until she writhed from the pleasure of it all. “Alex, please…oh…don’t stop.”
Her inner walls contracted with a sharp burst of ecstasy…that fell short as Alex stilled. He lifted his head, watching her as she gulped in sharp breaths, her entire body shuddering. Denied the fulfillment she craved, she let out a soft moan.
When her body relaxed, he repeated the whole process over again, slowly building her up, bringing her to the critical point, and then backing off completely. Then he waited, only to do it all over once more. Driving her wild with desire. She snatched at his shoulders, dug her nails in hard, twisting her head side to side. Reagan cried out something but was so lost to sensation she didn’t know what she said. Just sounds wafted through her awareness. Pitiful little sounds that had to be begging him for more.
“Fuck, Reagan,” he whispered against the top of her thigh. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? Even with that goddamn shirt on.” Rising over her, he gripped the hem and tugged the shirt over her head, leaving her in just her plain white bra. He tossed it on the pillow beside them. “Much better.”
“Alex, God, I need…”
In the dim light, she saw him nod as he braced his hands on either side of her shoulders and levered his body into hers. “I know what you need, sweetheart. I do, too.” He flexed his hips, slipping the tip of his swollen cock into her wet flesh, still taunting her with the promise of release. She parted her legs as far as she could, desperately trying to draw him deep inside where the ache burned like fire.
“Alex,” she moaned.
He nudged the barest bit of him inside her opening. “See what you did to me in the kitchen earlier? Paybacks are hell.”
Jesus, how could he possibly be thinking of paybacks when she was going to die if she didn’t come? She slid her hands around his ribs and scraped her nails down his back, lifting into the heat of his body. “Please don’t do this,” she choked out. “I…please…”
A gravelly chuckle escaped him seconds before he fused them together with a kiss. As his tongue stroked hers, he pushed deep inside, filling her completely. Her inner muscles contracted around his cock, guiding him deeper as she undulated beneath him again. When he’d sunk as deep as he could go, a groan vibrated in his chest. His body shuddered, and he tore his mouth away to suck in an unsteady breath.
Then, whatever game of torment he’d begun came to an end. He guided one of her legs up and hooked her ankle over his shoulder. Bracing his weight on one arm, he leaned into her again, shifting higher so that each thrust put his body in contact with her clit. She cried out with each sharp burst of pleasure, each deep purposeful stroke. His mouth found hers again, swallowing the sounds she couldn’t hold in.
Ecstasy rose and engulfed them both at the same time. Reagan felt it consume her, felt it drag her so deeply into Alex she couldn’t define where he started and where she began. Felt it connect her in a way she had never connected to anyone.
And she was terrified. For in that instant, she knew Alex McCray held something Drew never had—he held the power to shatter her. Not with fists, not with bruises, but with love. The kind of love that could destroy her if she lost him.
Alex rubbed his cheek against hers, then dusted his mouth across her lips. Slowly, he freed her leg and eased it onto the bed. Then he collapsed on top of her, his cheek nestled between her breasts, one hand roaming aimlessly along the side of her ribs.
Afraid of what she’d just discovered within herself, Reagan hesitantly ran her hand down his back. I love you, Alex. I love you so much.
“Am I too heavy?” he asked.
“No, you’re just right.”
“Mm. That was…incredible. You are incredible.” He nuzzled her breast with his scratchy chin as he eased himself out of her and rolled to the side. “I’m going to pass out. Fair warning.”
She curled into his arms, breathing in the scent of his skin, and closed her eyes. There was no one like him in the world. No one else who had the power to make her feel cherished, to make her feel like she was worthy of the fierce emotion that glinted in his eyes. No one else who could erase the scars.
She pressed a soft kiss over his steadily drumming heart. “Good night, Alex. Sleep tight.”
He mumbled something unintelligible, and then his breathing evened out. She waited until his embrace turned leaden, then nudged his arm. When he didn’t move, she eased out of his hold, dragged on her shirt, and lay back down. As she turned onto her side, tears threatened. It had become inevitable—she had to tell him. Because if she didn’t, they could never have a future. And yet, telling him was the one thing likely to drive them apart.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex woke with a start, momentarily unaware of his surroundings. Sweat dampened his chest, and though he couldn’t recall what he’d been dreaming of precisely, he could feel the nightmare clinging to the fringes of his mind. He didn’t often revisit the horrific day Drew died, but every now and then, when stress piled on, it haunted him in sleep.
He squinted at the bright light shining through the window, his heartbeat still not quite right, and eased a leg to the floor. Sitting upright, he cast a glance over his shoulder at Reagan, who lay sound asleep, one delicate hand tucked beneath her cheek, blissfully unaware he’d been fighting demons in the dark. Probably best she didn’t know. He wasn’t yet ready to tear what they had apart with the truth and have her discover he was nothing but a fraud. Tomorrow, they had the party, and to be honest, he looked forward to it too much to muck things up beforehand. She would be so happy to see Shelley, and bringing her that brief happiness, amid all the crap she was going through, gave him a sense of satisfaction.
Quietly as he could, he slid out of bed and tugged on his boxers and jeans. There was something inherently wrong with the fact that his body was more sated than he could ever remember it being, and yet, he couldn’t relax enough to enjoy the comfort of a warm, soft woman sprawled across the bed next to him. But damned if he could shake the unsettling feeling clinging to his shoulders. It was like watching a horror flick—he knew something waited at the top of the stairs.
And somehow, it all began with that terrified look in Reagan’s eyes last night.
He trudged down the stairs to the kitchen and started the coffeepot. Normally, he wasn’t a coffee drinker. But after only a handful of hours of sleep, he could use the caffeine boost. With it already going on nine, and the repairman due any minute, he needed to wake the hell up. He leaned against the counter as he gazed out at the backyard.
Somebody hit her.
While the coffeepot brewed, he clenched a fist on the counter. He didn’t want the thought to be true, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t come up with a different explanation for why she would have looked so scared when she hadn’t seen the board slipping toward he
r head.
She’d been perfectly happy. Normal. Carefree. Playing and laughing. Then bam! A one-eighty out of the blue.
When the coffeepot gurgled into finish, he stuffed a mug under it and filled it nearly to the rim. Cradling it between both hands, he went outside to think.
The minute he stepped onto the front porch, another memory flared to life. That of Reagan’s hesitation when he’d handed her his credit card. Then again at the ice cream shop. Looking back, comparing them side by side, he could see it wasn’t a matter of pride. Hell, she’d almost seemed…dogmatic about the way she started to count back his change.
Like she’d been…
His fingers clenched tighter around the cup.
Oppressed.
Alex ground his teeth together. Her defensiveness about being included in decisions; the way she avoided talking about Drew— No. It simply wasn’t possible. Drew wasn’t a douche bag. For fuck’s sake, he’d saved a three-legged puppy over in Afghanistan, let alone the two boys and Alex. Guys who did that didn’t come home and beat their wives. Besides, Drew adored Reagan. That’s why Alex was here in the first place.
Look after Reagan. Drew’s voice echoed in Alex’s head.
His attention wavered from the gory memory of holding his best friend’s bloody hand as a long gray van pulled into the drive. A pudgy guy with a buzz cut climbed out and waved.
Alex lifted his mug. “Morning.” He glanced down at his attire—jeans still partially unfastened, bare feet, no shirt; there could be no mistaking the nature of his involvement with Reagan. Not that he was trying to hide it. Half of him just expected someone to call him out with the truth. That he was poaching Drew’s widow.
Fuck, what was the matter with him? Yesterday, he’d been content with things. Now, he was back in the funk. Unable to shake a really bad mood that was coming on strong.
Who the fuck hit her?
It had to be her father. She’d fled her family. He could think of no other explanation. Bastard.
The guy in the drive opened up the back of the van. With the help of a dolly, he unloaded a compressor unit. The slam of the doors was like a gunshot in the quiet neighborhood, and Alex flinched. He was already crabby; he didn’t need loud noises to start his morning off. But if he wanted the thermostat to read something other than “sweltering,” he’d have to grin and bear it.
Shatter Me Page 12
