I glance up, a slow grin spreading across my face.
“Well,” I say, folding the paper neatly and sliding it into my back pocket because I’m not going to let her look at this anymore tonight, “that’s one item that doesn’t have to wait until morning.”
My lips twitch at the corner, eyes darting back to Regan who’s watching me wide-eyed, like I just read her deepest, most guarded secret out loud.
“I told you, I wrote that when it was super late and I was freaking out,” she blurts, her voice pitched a little higher, like maybe she thinks speed will cover her embarrassment. “I might have been drunk, too.”
“I see that.” I lean in slightly, letting my grin tug a little wider. “So, how were you planning on crossing that one off the list?”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, a nervous habit I’ve noticed she does when she’s flustered. “Well…” she starts, voice trailing off, “I have… toys, you know, that I’ve moved in.”
“Hmm.” My hands find her hips, thumbs brushing over the curve like they belong there, like they always have because I’m not waiting to touch her anymore and I’m not in the mood to hold back. I love how thick her hips are. Just the feel of her beneath my palms is a spark, dragging me back to that night seven years ago when everything between us was new and electric and painfully temporary.
“Is that something you’d like my help with?” I ask.
“Getting the toys out?”
I deadpan, “The orgasms, Regan.”
She swallows hard, her lips parting slightly before she nods. “Yeah, I mean… if you want to. If you don’t think that’s a bad idea.”
“We’ll treat it as part of the wedding checklist,” I say, like it’s the most logical thing in the world when it’s definitely crossing a line. One that we’ve both firmly put in place.
“Yeah,” she echoes, her voice soft. “That makes sense.”
It doesn’t.
It makes no sense at all.
But here we are, and I just got off shift. Horny like I always am after working all night, flustered from living with a woman I can’t stop thinking about being inside and feeling like I’ve been edged by her for seven years.
“Take me to them,” I murmur, my thumbs still tracing circles on her hips.
“Take you to what?”
“Your toys. Lead the way.”
She hesitates, eyes flicking to mine, searching for something—maybe hesitation, maybe doubt. But all she’ll find is the quiet thrum of want and desire that I’ve felt deep in my bones for days now.
She moves, turning slowly, her steps light as she leads us toward the stairs. I follow, every part of me tuned to her, the sway of her hips, the curve of her back, the tension coiled tight in the space between us.
When we reach the guest room she’s been sleeping in, a low growl escapes me because this room is less than half the size of mine and it pisses me off that she has such little space to stretch out while I’m living like a king.
“Grab the toys. Meet me in my bedroom.”
She pauses, hand hovering over an open bedside drawer. “Um… how many?”
I tilt my head, pretending to think. “How many do you have, Regan?”
Her cheeks flush pink. “Four.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Bring them all.”
Chapter 20: Hayes
She nods, lips parting on a soft inhale, her eyes wide and quiet. Then she starts gathering the toys, handling each one with this gentle care that’s somehow both tender and impossibly sexy. There’s a slight hesitation in the way she moves, like she knows what’s coming but still can’t fully believe it. I guess there’s a part of me that can’t believe it either.
I turn and head down the hallway toward my bedroom, stripping off my scrubs as I go—top, pants, everything—until I’m down to just my boxer briefs. The air is cooler up here, brushing against my skin in a kiss, but it does nothing to calm the slow burn that’s been building inside me all week.
