He wanted to take that look off of her face, to hold her and make her relax, to feel the beauty in herself that he saw.
He also wanted to reassure himself she was alive and well, despite whatever the hell Camille was doing to her.
And he just wanted her.
Without waiting for a response, Felix leaned forward and kissed her, a slow, seductive press of his lips on hers. Closing his eyes, he sighed with pleasure. She tasted better than he could have imagined, like wine and sweetness, her lips a perfect fit to his, the intimacy intoxicating. It had been so long, and she was so much. The most amazing woman he had ever encountered in his long and ultimately pointless life.
“Regan,” he breathed, taking in her floral scent. Felix kissed her again, harder, still holding her face in his hands. “You’re delicious.”
She made a sound of approval, her hands rising to twine around his neck. She kissed him back, her legs shifting in closer, br**sts beneath her cotton nightgown pressing against him. He enjoyed the taste, the touch, the sound of her, knowing it couldn’t go any further, knowing a kiss would have to be enough.
Then she made a fatal error. She opened her mouth.
Just a little more ... he would take just a little more then be done. But then his tongue slipped between her lips and he knew a little would never be enough. He wanted his tongue, his hands, his c**k on her, in her. Almost more than anything he had ever wanted. But he just might have been able still to show restraint and walk away and not involve her in the mess of his life, his soul.
Except that Regan groaned and met his tongue with hers in a teasing little flicker, at the same time she thrust her inner thighs against his erection, her hands entwining his neck even more.
It was that shift, that moment of her acquiescence that made it impossible for him to resist. She had given in, abandoned herself to the kiss, the moment, to him, and Felix found that the hottest f**king thing he had ever seen, felt, known in his life.
So he was going to ignore everything rational screaming in his head to stop, to think, to walk away, and he was going to give her pleasure.
Felix stepped back and took her hand, planning to lead her to the bed.
But Regan shook her head, her eyes slumberous with desire, lips shiny and swollen, ni**les tight against her nightgown. “No. Against the wall.”
Oh, no, she didn’t. Felix almost groaned out loud. She had to know how unbelievably sexy that was. “Whatever you want, beautiful,” he told her, and pushed her back until she hit the nearest wall, his lips on her neck, on the cle**age he revealed by yanking down the neck of her nightgown.
He was going to give her exactly what she wanted and then some.
Regan couldn’t believe she’d just said that out loud. She’d told Felix to take her against the wall. But it had just slipped out, the culmination of a very weird night, fear that she was losing her mind, fear that she could have died. Chris’s suggestion for what to do with Felix had popped into her head, and she had wanted it. Wanted rough and raw sex that screamed she was alive.
When Felix yanked her nightgown over her head and tossed it on the floor she felt just that way. Alive, drowning in pleasure, needing it now, ripping the fabric of fear off of her. His mouth closed over her nipple and she gasped, digging into his shoulders with her nails. It was a blur of sensation, of fast, hard desire springing up and driving her to tug off his T-shirt, to claw at the button on his jeans, take down his zipper, while he kissed, sucked, nipped at her br**sts, neck, mouth.
His finger slipped inside her panties, and deep into her slick desire. Regan threw her head back and tried to moan, but her breath was gone. His other hand yanked down her panties and lifted her thigh to rest on his.
Then he was in her with a hard thrust that liberated her voice and had her groaning in ecstasy. He was big, powerful, pushing inside her wet body with rhythmic, forceful pumps, his breathing hot next to her ear.
There was no time, no room for words in the tight, hot cocoon of pleasure, her back crammed against the wall, his body over her, against her, in her.
When he skimmed his thumb over her clitoris, she came with a cry, the intensity startling, overwhelming, and she tightened her grip on him, her whole body a taut string of desire as it wracked her.
“Regan,” he said through gritted teeth.
Then she felt the pulse of his orgasm, a ragged moan escaping him, and she smiled, reveling in her own after-shocks and the triumphant female power of knowing she had caused him to come undone so quickly.
His hand slapped on the wall and he shuddered deeply as he throbbed inside her. Both of their voices quieted into ragged breathing before Felix shifted and gave her a soft kiss.
Then he smiled. “Was that what you had in mind?”
Regan nodded, giving a small laugh, her shoulders sagging. “Oh, yeah.” It amazed her that he was still inside her, her leg propped over his, that he had wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. He was so good-looking it was almost painful to look at him, astonishing to think that she, the quiet woman who worked hard to never rock the boat or do anything wild or outrageous, had done just that.
But she didn’t feel like herself lately. Or maybe she felt more like herself. Despite the fears, the doubts, the odd occurrences in the house, she felt intensely free, alive, excited to discover who exactly Regan Henry was beyond dutiful daughter and trophy wife.
It seemed the real Regan had just stood up and had sex against the wall.
Chapter Eleven
“You’re amazing,” he said, nuzzling in her neck. “And I’m going to do that again in about five minutes, slower this time.”
“You are?” Regan shivered, her inner muscles contracting on him at the thought of a repeat performance.He groaned. “Damn, don’t do that yet”
Felix pulled out of her, causing her to sigh in disappointment, then he bent over and skimmed her panties back up from where they’d been held captive at her ankles. He brushed his lips over her stomach in a gesture that struck Regan as intensely intimate, and she curled her fingers into his short hair as he came back to her mouth and kissed her hard.
“Why don’t you get in bed and I’ll be right back,” he said, stepping away from her, his jeans still undone, belt clanking to the side, but everything important tucked back into his black boxer briefs.
She hadn’t even really had a chance to see him naked, to see his smooth erection. She’d just felt it, deep inside her. A fresh rush of moisture between her legs had her unfolding herself from the wall so she could head to the bed. But she couldn’t take her eyes off him as she went. He was so freaking gorgeous, his bare chest toned and broad, his cross necklace dangling down, a barbed-wire tattoo around each of his biceps.