Home. A little word, filled with such meaning. She wanted this beautiful house to become a home, to feel like her own, to not make her heart race, and her eyes dart over her shoulders into the shadows.
She wanted Felix in this house with her.
He made the dark corners lighten and the rooms less empty. “Yes, we’re home. How does one more glass of wine on the balcony sound?”
“Wonderful.”
In two minutes they were out on the balcony, relaxing back in their twin chairs. “I need to get a table,” Regan said, crossing her ankles and sighing in contentment, stomach full, the sweetness of the wine they’d grabbed in the kitchen on her tongue. “So many things to buy and do to this house. It’s too empty now. I want to fill it up.” Maybe that would make the weird uneasiness, the echo she felt, go away.
“There’s so many empty rooms, I don’t even know where you’d begin.” Felix glanced over at her. “Hey, I was thinking ... how would you feel about living together for real, permanently? I don’t have any stuff that would ruin your decor. It’s just me and my clothes. But it would be cool to have a key, to know that I’m going to wake up next to you every day.”
Regan shivered, clutching her glass tighter. He looked so sweet, so sincere, so intense.
“Do you really want that?” she asked, her heart swelling. She hadn’t expected that it would be him who would suggest it. She had thought she’d wait a few months then bring it up herself.
There was something very reassuring in knowing the man you loved was confident in his feelings toward you. And she did love him. She hadn’t planned to fall in love, not now, maybe never again, but she had, sharply and quickly, like having the wind knocked out of her.
“Yes. I know it’s fast, but I love you. I want to be together.”
That was the first time he had straight-out said he loved her, and Regan felt a goofy grin of wonderment splitting her face. “Yes, I absolutely want you to move in. I love you, too. God, I love you.”
She laughed, amazed that they had stumbled into each other’s life. Amazed that when she tossed out the rules and worries and unrealistic expectations for perfection, she could achieve such happiness.
“Regan,” Felix said, his voice deepening, his body leaning toward her.
“What?” she asked, even as she knew. That look he gave her, that burning intense stare, always meant one thing.
“It’s time to go in the bedroom.”
“Oh, really?” Regan licked her bottom lip, her inner thighs automatically warming at his words, her ni**les tightening. “To do what?”
“Stand up and walk in and you’ll find out” He stood up and moved the chair out of the way.
Regan could see an impressive erection straining against his jeans, and she didn’t hesitate to obey his instructions. She stood up, smoothing down the front of her Capri pants, knowing the minute she tried to pass Felix he would touch her. The thought excited her, and tossed with the fact that he had told her he loved her, had Regan already aroused and he hadn’t laid one finger on her.
She kept waiting for the day that their sex was slow and considerate and proper, and so far it had never come. She didn’t want it to. It was much more exciting to have Felix wanting and demanding of her, to know that they were both so turned on and so eager that waiting was never an option.
It was that reaction she was anticipating when she brushed past him, and she got it. Regan was in the doorway when his hands landed on her waist and pulled her back to bump against his erection. His hands slid down the front of her pants, down along the vee between her legs, his lips brushing along her jaw.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Regan shivered, a soft moan escaping her both from his words and from the fact that he was stroking across her pants in a teasing, coaxing rhythm. Hot saliva filled her mouth and her eyes drifted half-shut. “I love you, too.”
He unhooked the clasp on her pants.
Regan started to turn, but he held her in place. She made a sound of protest. “Felix, we’re in the doorway.”
“No one can see you. Only me.”
She didn’t think it would take a genius to figure out what they were doing if anyone happened to look up and see Felix thrusting and her pants down at her ankles. Call her crazy, but she didn’t want to meet her neighbors that way.
And she didn’t want to think about neighbors or worry about having her backside exposed or have any thought in her head other than the fact that the man she loved loved her in return. This wasn’t a moment to be self-conscious, but a moment to look into each other’s eyes and embrace that connection.
So Regan stepped forward, undoing the scarf he’d given her and dropping it to the floor in a hot pink puddle. Her shirt followed suit. Undoing her zipper, she stepped out of her pants and went to the bed. Before she could climb on it, he was right behind her, nudging her up against the footboard.
“You feel so amazing,” he murmured, his voice a low growl in her ear, his necklace cool on her back against the heat of her skin. “I can never touch you enough.”
“And I can never have you touch me enough,” she said, sighing in pleasure. In more than pleasure, in amazement and awe and the purest form of bliss.
Felix nuzzled her neck, his fingers running up and down her sides lightly, occasionally veering to the front to brush against her br**sts and ni**les. Their urgency had quieted, and as if by mutual agreement they both hovered in this place of anticipation, a moment to just hold each other and savor.
It was a sweet, sensual embrace, bare flesh on bare flesh, their feelings open and honest. Regan sighed when his fingers stroked her moist inner thighs. “You make me feel so good.”
“I hope so. That’s the point.” Felix pushed deeper inside her with his finger.
Regan moved against his hand, her knees shifting apart. It was amazing to her that with a few touches, a few kisses, a few strokes of his finger he could make her feel this. This sharp, hot, soaking desire to have him in her body, to make her come over and over. “Harder,” she begged.
Felix gave a soft laugh. “Oh, yeah, is that what you want?” His finger stilled. “You do it then.”
There was a pause, then Regan started to move herself on his finger and Felix felt a fresh jolt of desire. There was something so sweetly sexual about Regan, so free. “I love it that you’re not polite when we’re having sex,” he told her. He wanted her to give in, to feel the freedom, and she did.