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Libby set her cup down before turning her full attention to Reagan. “What are we going to do about this sudden memory loss? Your memory wasn’t su ering when you painted my skyline.”
Reagan grinned before moving her cup o to the side of the tarp. “How can I forget a night like that?”
“A night like what?” She inched closer, the heat from her body warming her side.
Reagan’s lips twitched into a retrained smile. “It was the first night I was sure this wasn’t going to end well for me.”
“That’s not what I was expecting,” Libby confessed.
“Well, it’s the truth. I knew right then when you were standing so close to me on that balcony that I was going to hobble away from you in multiple pieces. I had never wanted to kiss anyone so bad in my whole life, and I couldn’t read you for anything in the world.”
“I wanted to kiss you too,” Libby confessed, her eyes drifting to Reagan’s lips, stained red from wine. “Scared me to death.”
“Don’t be scared of me.” Reagan reached up and held Libby’s face, urging her down to her lips.
Hovering just above her mouth, Libby couldn’t contain what she’d been holding back for an eternity. She knew it was too soon, knew it was a risk, but it ripped out of her
heart and floated from her lips. “I love you.” The deafening words were hardly a whisper.
For an agonizing second that lasted three lifetimes, nothing happened. Reagan’s bright, brown eyes were practically incandescent as they looked into her, penetrating her on a cellular level.
Oh, God. She didn’t hear me. Shame and humiliation flooded Libby’s body until all she could think about was jumping to her sore feet and running all the way home.
Then, Reagan smirked. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting forever for you to get here with me.”
Confused, Libby furrowed her brow.
Reagan’s smirk blossomed into a full-fledged grin. “I love you too. And for so very long.”
Libby’s nerves devolved into a tangled mess of murky thoughts and trembling hands as she closed the gap between them and kissed her. She’d intended to be smooth and romantic, but in a clash of teeth and wine-wet lips, she failed. Not that Reagan appeared to care.
With her hands perched on Libby’s waist, Reagan pulled her on top of her. Their kiss was rushed and frantic as if one of them had only minutes to live. It was more like Libby had only started living and desperately wanted to make up for lost time.
Slipping her hand underneath the soft silky material of Reagan’s black shirt, Libby indulged in the sensation of her abdominal muscles tensing as she raked over them with her fingertips.
“Is this okay?” Libby whispered against her lips as she halted her advance at the bra’s underwire. “Not too fast?”
“I’m very ready for absolutely anything you’re ready for,”
Reagan replied before taking Libby’s hand and moving it over the thin, satiny material of her bra.
Desire tore through Libby hard and fast when Reagan responded to her touch with a nearly imperceptible gasp. The tiny, quick inhale of breath robbed Libby of all self-control.
Touching Reagan through a fabric barrier wasn’t nearly enough. As she kissed her lips, Libby pulled up Reagan’s shirt, disconnecting from her lips only for as long as it took to remove the o ending shirt all together.
With an unstoppable desire she’d never felt before, Libby clawed at Reagan’s back. Finding the clasp, she was desperately searching for, Libby tried to unfasten it as she held herself up over Reagan’s body with the other. Every failed attempt only increased her resolve to get it o , but it was like the damn thing was glued together.
Rescuing her from her fumbling, Reagan smiled against her lips. “Let me help,” she whispered. “It takes a little practice.” She reached back and unhooked it herself.
In any other moment, Libby would’ve been embarrassed at failing or made a mental note to learn the technique later, but all she could process was Reagan’s body. Her smooth skin was unblemished except for the colorful rooster sleeve tattoo on her arm. Her small chest and defined muscles were the hottest things she’d ever seen.
“You’re staring.” Reagan interrupted her gawking.
Libby smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she replied trying to sound sincere. “Do you mind?”
Reagan showed o just one dimple and shrugged. “I suppose I don’t mind being ogled by you.”
Libby kissed her again. “As long as it’s just me,” she demanded before sliding down Reagan’s lips to the column of her neck, leaving a combination of bites and kisses as she traveled to her collarbone.
