Feeling the heavy sentiment in the air the same as me, Regan seizes the glass of whiskey to throw down the burning liquid with one quick swallow. After slamming the empty glass back on the vanity, she locks her eyes with mine. She doesn’t say anything; her eyes just drift over my face before stopping at my beard that looks more reddish than usual compliments of the blood mottled throughout it.
“I can do this,” she mutters, more to herself than me.
With a yank on my shoulder, she spins me around to face her. She steps forward until I am crowded against the sink. When she scoots to the left to snag a washcloth off a glass shelf, her breasts scrape my arm. It is only the briefest touch, yet the violent storm swarming us evacuates.
“You don’t have to do this.”
She wets the washcloth before carefully dabbing it on my right temple, ignoring me, her focus determined.
The more blood she clears, the closer we become.
Within minutes, there’s barely an inch of air between us, and I’m hovering on the brink of insanity. I can’t have her this close to me and not touch her. I’d rather face corruption charges than give up the crazy, unimaginable sensation that forever bristles between us.
She’ll be worth losing everything for, because she is wortheverything.
I sweep my fingers down Regan’s hips slowly, a teasing touch that is so soft, it’s hardly registered. When she fails to protest, I drop one of my hands to the slit in her skirt and glide it up her thigh. As my fingertips graze her swollen cleft, her head falls forward, bringing the tip of her nose resting against mine.
I brush the back of my hand down her panties, loving that they moisten under my touch. She calms down as much as she ramps up, my touch dispelling her worry as quickly as it entices her excitement. We breathe as one for several minutes, the angry tension in my veins exchanged for a more enjoyable one.
Once Regan’s panties are damp enough to cling to the folds of her pussy, she murmurs, “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re hurt.”
Her breathless words spoken with worry shouldn’t turn me on, but they do. It means she cares for me, which also means she needs this as much as I do. I want her to know she’s not responsible for what happened tonight just as much as I need confirmation of it. She wasn’t in the alleyway because she knew of Isaac’s plans. It was a coincidence.Wasn’t it?
“Why were you in the alley tonight, Rae?” I ask as my fingers strum her dampened slit.
With her eyes on me and her throat purring, Regan answers, “I was working.”
I rub her clit with my thumb, circling it in a way that drives her crazy before slipping her panties to the side to inch two fingers inside of her. Her pussy clamps around my stationary digits, wordlessly begging for them to move while also notching them in a few millimeters deeper.
Although this isn’t an interrogation tactic I’ve used before, I’m excited to test it out. People are most honest when they’re blinded by lust. You can’t get any rawer than this. My fingers are in her tight canal, my thumb is on her clit, and her beautiful green irises are boring into mine. She’s exposed and vulnerable—the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her.
“You were working? What case can you work on in an alley at 1 AM?”
Regan’s breaths rattle when she replies, “It’s a business venture. A new nightclub. Construction started last month. I was on my way home when I found you.”
My stomach fills with heat from her reply. She’s being honest. Numerous blueprints and cash transactions have been added to Isaac’s file the past four months. It was earmarked as expenditures for a new operation in the Ravenshoe area.
Although my woozy head had me taking the long route to discover what two plus two equals, Regan’s confirmation helps me see things more clearly. The dungeon-like room I’ve been working out of the past six months is across the street from a bunch of buildings Isaac owns. If he’s planning to turn one of them into a nightclub, Regan’s admission makes sense. She works for Isaac. She goes where he goes. . . unless she’s with me.
“So you were with your boss tonight?” My interest can’t be contained—neither can my jealousy.
“Uh-huh.” She swivels her hips, unappreciative of the stillness of my fingers. “We crunched numbers for hours.” With a seductive smirk, she squeezes the walls of her pussy, hugging my stationary digits. “A true accountant would have creamed his pants by now.”
“We both know I’m not an accountant—”
“Just like we both know my thoughts on numbers men.” Regan’s brow is as high as the confirmation in her tone.
I stare at her in shock.She’s aware of the afternoon I pretended to be a doctor?
When her brow rises even higher, as if to say,you bet I do,my heart rate triples.
It is lucky my fingers are in her greedy pussy and my thumb is circling her clit, or she’d have me by the balls. It is also fortunate she doesn’t scare easily. This is the exact reason I’m willing to fall onto a knife for her. She’s not just the woman I’ve been seeking the past five years. She’s the one I’ve been searching for my entire life. She gets me—bad points and all, yet she’s still not running.
Bottle me up as this brew is done!
“Stand back, baby; I want to see your face.”
My breaths come out even harsher when Regan does as requested without any hesitation. She licks her lips when I adjust the angle of my wrist, so I can hook her pussy to my hand as it’s never been. I can take her even deeper now, but I still want more.
