She exhaled and then leaned in to kiss him back. “You’re forgiven.”
A light breeze blew through her long auburn hair pushing it in front of her face. He reached up, tucking it behind her ears. “We skipped dessert. There’s a candy shop around the corner. Do you want to get something before we leave?”
“I don’t know,” she said, hesitating.
“Come on.” He stood up and grabbed her hand pulling her up next to him. “I know you like caramel apples.”
She laughed. “Okay. You know I can’t say no to that.”
Walking down the street, he liked the feel of her hand in his, almost like they were really a couple. Nobody knew them. They were just one of many couples strolling through the streets enjoying the live music that poured out of the bars. Being with her like this, in the quaint little chalet themed village with all the shops and restaurants made him want more than just a couple days because he thought the pressures of work, friends, and family might cause their tentative truce and rekindled moment to implode.
“What are you thinking about?” Regan asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Lucas pulled her closer to him, kissing her. “I’m just glad you came with me.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Me too,” she said simply.
Chapter Twenty
Regan hated to admit it, but she didn’t want to leave tomorrow. She wished she and Lucas could stay hidden in their little bubble in the mountains for a couple more days.
As they walked into his house, she didn’t know what to expect. Would he decide to put the brakes on the relationship for the day? It was progressing faster than she initially wanted, but now she didn’t want to walk away. It had been so long since she had spent the night with anyone, and now with the possibility glimmering right in front of her, she wanted him with her, in her bed or his. She didn’t care as long as he didn’t play any games with her head tonight. She needed honesty and him.
Lucas closed the door behind him and reached for the purse that dangled from her shoulder, tossing it on the entryway table. The car keys and his jacket followed her purse. He stared at her then, his eyes lingering in all the right places making her body sing with desire. Without saying a single word, he stalked toward her, wrapping one hand underneath her knees and the around her upper back as he lifted her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, squirming as he carried her up the stairs.
“Taking you to bed.”
When he finally released her, Regan realized that they were in a bedroom—not hers. The room was decorated similar to hers, but the accents were more masculine. The camel colored leather chairs in the corner had gray, black, and red plaid pillows. A large flat screen television hung on the wall above a black dresser. On the far side of the room was king-sized bed with white linens with a perfectly matched red and gray plaid throw blanket along the bottom.
She turned toward the bed, her hands trembling with the enormity of the situation. “This is a nice room,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Do you always use the same room when you come here?”
Walking up behind her, he placed his hands on her tense shoulders, rubbing lightly before moving to her upper arms trying to help her to relax. His arms drifted lower until his hands rested on her hips. “Yes,” he whispered, bending his head until it was next to her neck. “Is your neck still really sensitive?” he asked, his lips grazing her skin with so much unsaid emotion and sensuality, her knees wobbled.
Her breath hitched as she leaned into him, and she could feel his lips curve upward against the sensitive skin of her neck. “I thought so,” he murmured.
With indecent slowness, one of his hands wandered from her hip to her stomach and finally to her breast, cupping it lightly through the fabric of her dress. Her muscles simultaneously tensed and caught fire beneath his fingertips. Belatedly, she realized he was cataloging every twitch, sigh, or exhalation and comparing it to her responses six years ago.
“What are you doing?” she asked absently.
“Getting reacquainted,” he said as his fingertips slipped into the top of her bias cut dress stopping at the scalloped edge of her lace bra.
She leaned back into him even further, circling one of her arms around his neck as she teetered ever so slightly on her nude colored heels.
Pulling his hand from the front of her dress, he pushed her hair to the side and reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. “May I?”
“Please,” she practically begged as she stood absolutely still. She didn’t want to give him a reason to stop or delay. She craved his hands and mouth on her bare skin and more of that scalding intimacy she’d experienced before dinner.