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Her eyelids flutter but don’t actually open. Shaking my head, I snort to myself as I manage to get her dress over her head and the shirt on before she drops back to the bed. I maneuver her arms into the sleeves and pull the sheet from under her, laying it softly over her legs before getting into bed myself.
I tuck my arm beneath my cheek and watch her sleep. She was only on her third vodka by the time Terry and Amelia left, which was good because she was still coherent then. The longer I watched her, the more I knew I needed to get her home. And not because I wanted to tear that dress from her sexy body and fuck her til she was raw. No, I knew if she had any more alcohol, truths would start spilling from her lips and she’d have regretted it tomorrow.
I haven’t figured out what was wrong with her, but I guess that’s a conversation for the morning. Switching off the bedside lamp, I move closer to Reagan and drift off to sleep.
When I wake the next morning, Reagan is still sleeping like a baby. Instead of disturbing her, I gently get out of bed and put the coffee maker on. She may not be ready for coffee yet, but I certainly am.
As soon as the coffee is ready, I pour it into a mug and sit back down. So many things are going through my mind. Why does Terry want to see me? What was wrong with Reagan last night?
I try to clear my mind while I drink. I need to be awake and caffeinated before I start getting answers. The only other way to wake me up is a run. I gulp down my coffee and go to the bedroom. Within minutes of getting dressed into some sweats, a shirt, and my sneakers, I grab my phone and airpods and run out of the door.
After a brisk run through Central Park, I make my way to the deli and grab us some breakfast. When I walk into my apartment, I find Reagan slumped over the breakfast bar, her head resting on her forearm.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Reagan lifts her head a fraction and looks me up and down. “Ugh.”
I shut the door, walk to the counter, and place the paper bag in front of her.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Open the bag and find out.” I place my phone and airpods on the counter and pour more coffee for myself. “I see you’ve helped yourself to coffee.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Taking my coffee over to the breakfast bar, I take the stool across from her. “How are you feeling?”
“Rough.”
“Do you want to talk about last night?”
“I can’t. I feel like a heavy metal band is playing a gig inside my head.” The skin between her eyebrows creases as she lifts her cup up to her lips. She takes a careful sip before taking a doughnut from the bag. She sinks her teeth into the sugary goodness and smiles. “Later maybe?”
I nod in agreement before pulling out a doughnut for myself.
“Any chance I can borrow some sweats to go home in? I don’t feel like doing the walk of shame in that dress and those shoes. I don’t even think I could put those shoes on today, my feet are hurting so much.”
With a nod, I push up from the stool and go around to Reagan. I put my hands on the bare, silky skin of her thighs and twist her to face me. “Well, I’m sweaty, I’m going to take a shower. But before you leave, we are going to talk.” I brush sugar from her nose before placing my lips on hers and suck. Her eyes widen while a smile forms on her mouth. “Sugar,” I say with a shrug.
Walking away from her, I drag my shirt over my head, then turn and throw it at her. She catches it and smiles. “Eat your doughnuts and drink your coffee. I won’t be long.”
Thirty-Two
Reagan
Everett knows what his body does to me. I gulp down the rest of my coffee and eat the rest of my doughnut before I slide off the stool and follow him.
By the time I reach the closed bathroom door, the water was already running. I opened the door and see steam has already started to accumulate. Shutting the door softly, I pull Everett’s tee from my body and step inside his huge shower. It could probably fit a whole hockey team; it was that big.
Everett’s head hangs between his outstretched arms, his hands against the tiled wall, the water running over his body. Taking a tentative step closer, I place my hands on his back, softly run my palms over his slick olive skin, and place my lips between his shoulder blades.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to join me.”
My hands still and my eyebrows pull into a frown. “Are you angry with me?” I ask softly.Usually, he’d make me shower with him, or at least ask me to shower with him.
Everett slowly shakes his head before turning to face me. He circles my elbows with his hands and grips me tightly, tugging me to him. My breasts brush against his chest, causing my body to react almost instantly. He turns us around and my back hits the wall. The coldness of the tile is a shock, but I’m too turned on to care. My nipples pebble as his stare bores into me. He gathers my two hands in his one, pushes them above my head, and holds them in place before he smashes his lips to mine. His tongue plunges through the closed seam of my lips and duels with mine. He thrusts his free hand in my hair, threading his fingers into my wet hair and tugging just enough for it to sting. I gasp into Everett’s mouth as my core throbs. His hardened length presses against my stomach.
“Drop to your knees for me, baby,” Everett says, his voice low in my ear. “I want to feel those lips around my dick.”
