Molly McAdams - Capturing Peace

My head dropped so he wouldn’t see how hard I was trying not to laugh, but I knew my shoulders were shaking from trying to hold it back.

“Thanks for that, buddy. Why don’t you go wash your hands so we can eat, all right?”

“Okay!”

I straightened, my body still shaking from the laughs I’d been trying so hard to quiet, and Reagan punched my shoulder as soon as I was upright.

“Seriously?”

“Hey! At least I told him the girls his age had cooties.”

A laugh bubbled past her lips before she could contain it, and then her stern expression was back. “But now what if he avoids women until he’s like thirty?”

“He won’t. Trust me, once puberty hits you’ll be wishing he would avoid them until he was thirty. At least I bought you a few years. I could’ve told him cooties didn’t exist and you’d have the principal calling you because he was kissing all the girls in his class next week. I know from experience.”

A sly grin crossed her face. “Coen Steele, did you terrorize all the girls by kissing them?”

I shrugged as I grabbed the food and started walking toward the table. “Someone had to do it. I took one for the team.”

“Ah, must have been such a hardship.”

“You have no idea.”

Reagan just smiled and shook her head as she leaned up to press her lips to my jaw. “And are you still terrorizing them all?”

“Just one,” I whispered.

“Good answer.”

REAGAN SHUT THE door leading to Parker’s bedroom, and smiled up at me as she easily fell into my arms where I stood leaning against the wall.

“He is out ,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to my throat as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Tonight was fun for him.”

“It was fun for me too,” I said honestly.

After dinner, we’d watched a movie before playing a game for hours that I still didn’t understand . . . and I already wanted another night like the one we’d just had.

My fingers flexed against her hips when her mouth pressed firmly against mine, and a soft whimper sounded in her throat when our tongues brushed against each other. Moving my legs apart, I pulled her closer against me, and she arched her back so her chest pushed into mine for a few moments before moving back. Her hands slowly moved from my neck, across my chest and down my stomach before resting on the top of my jeans. The muscles in my abdomen twitched when her fingers moved under the shirt to brush against my skin.

I knew I needed to stop this. I’d told her I wanted to surprise her, and somehow we always found ourselves here . . . with me trying to find the will to be the voice of reason for us . . . for her. For her, I needed to stop this. I needed to show her I wanted so much more from her. But when she flattened one hand against my lower stomach, and the other curled around the top of my already low-­slung jeans, I forgot all the reasons why I’d stopped us before.

Pushing off the wall, I took the few steps until her back hit the opposite wall, and released her lips to make a trail down her throat. Pushing aside the collar of her shirt, I placed slow kisses across her collarbone as I pressed a hand to the small of her back, bringing her body closer to mine.

One of her hands went up to run over my short hair when I bit down gently on her neck, and she gasped softly before whispering, “I want to fall asleep to your voice tonight.”

I stilled and pressed a kiss to where I’d bitten her before moving back so I could look into her eyes. Cocking my head to the side, I pushed some of her hair behind her ear. “You do every night, why wouldn’t you tonight?”

“No, uh . . .” She put one hand to my chest, as if to push me away, and grabbed the ends of her hair with the other.

“What, Reagan, tell me.” Shit, I’d pushed her too far . “I’m sorry, I should’ve left as soon as you went to put—­”

“Coen, no.” She stopped me by pressing three fingers to my lips. Moving them away, she brushed her lips softly across mine, and when her eyelids slowly opened, they revealed a heat in her hazel eyes. “I want to fall asleep to your voice . . . while you’re in my bed.”

“Duchess,” I said darkly.

Pushing back on my chest so she could move away from the wall, she grabbed one of my hands and began walking backward down the hall. “Please don’t leave.”

“Staying could be dangerous.” I warned her. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop us this time.”

She smiled when we stepped into her room and let go of my hand to press hers to my stomach again. Her eyes flickered down to watch as her fingers moved along the inside of my jeans. “Maybe you shouldn’t stop us anymore.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and took a deep breath in and out. My first thought was to grab her and take her to the bed, but I had to make sure she wouldn’t regret this tomorrow.

“Reagan, don’t do this for me,” I said, my voice coming out rough from trying to restrain myself.

She bit back a smile and looked up at me. “Stop thinking you’re pushing me into something I’m not ready for. I want this.” A look of uncertainty crossed her face, and her hand stilled. “Unless you don—­”

Grabbing the back of her head, I slammed my mouth down onto hers and growled, “Don’t finish that thought. You’d be out of your goddamn mind to think I don’t want you.”

Walking us toward the bed, I grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head—­letting the material fall to the floor as I pushed her a step away. My eyes moved over her body, and snapped up to hers when her hands went to her back to undo the clasp on her bra.

Closing the distance between us again, I put my hands on her hips and led her back until her legs hit the bed. She stumbled onto it with a husky laugh, and I moved my hands to her bare knees. Parting them enough so I could step between her legs, I watched as she moved the straps of the bra off her shoulders and down her arms. As soon as it was on the floor with her shirt, her hands went to cover herself, and her legs tried to close as the most beautiful blush I’ve ever seen stained her cheeks.

Moving one of my hands to where she was holding her breasts, I grabbed at her wrists and moved her resisting arms away from her body as I laid her down on the bed.

Resting our hands above her head, I brushed my lips against her softly, and asked, “Where’d my fearless girl go?”

Her lips trembled against mine when she responded. “Its one thing to start it—­and to feel confident. Its another when there’s nothing to hide behind anymore.”

I moved back enough to look into her eyes, and shook my head softly. “Don’t hide yourself with me. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Kissing her until I felt her body begin to relax under mine, I slowly moved down her neck and chest until I reached the swell of her breast. With the hand still on her knee, I ran it up her thigh, taking her short and loose skirt with me, until I was gripping her hip through the bunched-­up material. Pulling one of her nipples into my mouth, I smiled against her when her back arched and her fingers gripped my hand—­just like she’d done when we’d been in my studio.

Sitting back on my knees, I moved down her breast and over to the other to pay the same attention, and released her hip to let my fingers trail under the part of the skirt that was still covering her. I moved over the insides of her legs, and the top of her underwear, but never closer until she started restlessly moving on the bed.

“Coen, please .”

Grabbing the lace covering her, I pulled it down, and over her legs—­letting her move them the rest of the way off as I trailed my fingers over her wet heat. Reagan pressed against my hand and moaned when I made teasing circles against her clit.