Calmly, Carefully, Completely (The Reed Brothers 3)

I chuckle. I can’t help it. “I’m sure it did.”

“That bitch is crazy,” he says, looking toward the house.

“I’ll tell her you said so.” I laugh. I can’t even scold him for calling her a bitch, not with everything she did to him.

“Please don’t,” he begs. “My dad will kill me if her father is mad at me.”

“Too late,” a voice calls from the front door. Her father steps into the light. “Hi, Pete,” he says. He smiles at me.

“Hi, Mr. Caster,” I say, waving at him joyfully.

“Hi, Chase,” he says.

Chase is smart enough to press his lips together and not say a word.

“You may go now, Chase,” Mr. Caster instructs, and Chase scrambles to get into his car. He fires it up and sprays our feet with gravel when he pulls away.

Mr. Caster smiles at me. “I couldn’t even hit the poor bastard after what she did to him,” he admits with a chuckle.

“Me, either,” I say. It wouldn’t have been fair. “Is Reagan all right?” I ask. I really want to see her.

“She’s pissed as hell,” he says. He jerks a thumb toward the barn. “She went out the back door toward the barn.”

I look longingly toward the area where he pointed.

“What are you waiting for, son?” he asks. “Go!”

I smile and reach for his hand. He shakes with me and grins. “Thank you, Mr. Caster,” I say, and I run for the barn.

I open the door and find her standing in the middle of the lit hallway between stalls. She’s still wearing her pretty dress from the party, but she has replaced her strappy sandals with muck boots and her hair is down around her shoulders. Her dog growls when she sees me, posturing so I don’t get any closer, so she calls her to her and Maggie goes and lies down at her feet. “What do you want?” Reagan barks at me.

“Did you kiss him?” I ask. I wait, unable to breathe until I hear her answer.

She stares at me for a moment and then she shakes her head, and that’s all the prompting I need.

Reagan

I’m so pissed off that I can barely see straight. And Pete wants to know if I kissed Chase Gerald? Seriously?

He rushes toward me and grabs me in his arms, yanking me against him. He looks down into my face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he warns.

I shove him back, but it’s like pushing a brick wall. “Stop it, Pete,” I say. “You’re being ridiculous.”

He holds on tightly, though, and hitches his hands beneath my bottom, lifting me against him. Then he pushes me back against the wall of the stall. He slides a knee between my legs to hold me up, his foot resting on the side of a bag of feed, and takes my face in his hands. His breath smells like mints and Pete, and his exhale tickles my lips. “Reagan,” he breathes softly. It’s no more than a murmur, but he may as well have shouted it. My heart beats so loudly I can hear it in my ears, and I know he can feel it.

“Pete,” I say. His hands thread into the hair at my temples, and his thumbs tilt my face up so that his lips are almost touching mine. “Please kiss me,” I breathe.

His lips finally graze mine, gently at first. His mouth is closed, and he waits, his eyes open and staring into mine as he tests my mouth tentatively. He’s tender and soft, but I don’t want tender and soft. I lick across the seam of his lips, and he opens for me. His tongue invades my mouth and tangles with mine. His hands hold my face still as he takes over the kiss, growling low in his throat as he plays me. Oh, good God, does he play me. He licks into me, inside me, his tongue sliding against mine, thrusting in and out of my mouth. I match him, breathing so hard I can’t catch my breath. I hitch myself higher on his leg, pressing my panty-clad girl parts against him. My clit is thumping like mad, and I can’t even think about anything but relieving this most delicious ache he’s stirring inside me. His tongue pulls back from my mouth, but I don’t want him to go.

A whimper that doesn’t even sound human leaves my throat, and I pull him back to me by sucking his lower lip into my mouth. I tongue his piercing, and he growls low in his throat. I rock against his thigh, and he takes his hands from my face and puts them on my bottom so he can tug me forward on his knee. He presses just the right spot, and I lift my face to gasp, trying to find enough breath to keep my runaway heart thumping, my head falling back against the stall door. He’s taking all of my weight now because my legs would never support me even if he did let me go. His lips tickle across my chin and down the side of my neck, and he looks into my eyes as he tugs the tie at my hip and parts my dress. His hands are hot and hard as they encircle my waist, squeezing gently, not asking for my permission, but he has it. There’s no doubt about it.

He looks into my face as he raises his hand and cups my bra, his thumb tracking across my nipple. I take his hand in mine and press it harder against my breast. He growls into the side of my throat and freezes. He stops, inhaling and exhaling. I take his face in my hands and pull him back to me, but he backs his face away. “Just a second,” he pleads. “I need just a second.” He’s breathing as hard as I am.

But I don’t want to give him a second. I tug the cup of my bra down and bare my breast for him. Pete bends his head and takes my nipple into his mouth. He hums as he gives it a tug, his lips insistent as he suckles, his tongue flicking against the turgid flesh. I can’t think. I can’t stop the whimpers that escape my throat. “Pete,” I cry. He grabs my bottom and pulls me further forward, then pushes my belly until I lie back against the stall door. He looks down at my panties, and I can see the wet spot on the pink fabric. I close my eyes.