If Regan would just lie still, try to turn her head away, or even attempt to tug out of my grip, I’d consider stopping.
But she doesn’t.
When my tongue touches hers, she moans, and it’s not a shy or hesitant sound. It’s a fucking invitation, and there’s just enough alcohol in my system I won’t deny her.
I drop my body on hers, settling right in against the vee of her legs, and there’s no hiding my erection. She wiggles under me—rubs and grinds against my cock—and fuck…that just went from zero to sixty in nothing flat. It’s enough that doubt takes hold, and I break the kiss to look at her.
“Don’t stop, Dax,” she orders breathlessly. “You just grab whatever misguided sense of moral duty that’s flitting around that head of yours and get rid of it.”
As if to make sure I don’t misconstrue what she’s saying, she lifts her hips to press herself to me. Groaning, I lower my face—not to kiss her again, but to press my forehead against hers. Trying to clear my head, I squeeze my eyes shut. I can feel Regan trembling under me, our chests rising and falling because we’re both restless with lust, need, and alcohol.
“Lance would kill me right now if he were here,” I murmur so she knows exactly what my hesitation is. “You’re his little sister. He’d want me to protect you.”
I’m stunned when Regan pulls free of my grasp, puts her hands to my chest, and shoves to get me off her. When I roll toward the back of the couch, she slides out from under me. My dick is aching in protest at the loss of her heat. More than that, I feel a hollow pain in the center of my chest.
Regan rolls off the couch, staring at me with hard eyes. “Lance isn’t here, and I have to believe that wherever he is, he’s in a place where he wouldn’t judge. Now, I know this marriage is fake and I went along with it because you’re right… it’s the best way to save my life right now. But I’m not going to pretend there isn’t an attraction between us. You can look at me like a little sister if you want—can war with your conscience until the cows come home for all I care—but I’ve learned one thing in the last few years. Life is too short to pass up opportunities, and I’m not going to feel guilty for being attracted to you. So if you want to take advantage of the situation that has presented itself tonight—granted, due to alcohol that’s loosened some inhibitions—then I suggest you kiss me again. If not, I suggest a cold shower.”
I push off the couch slowly, my lips curving up in an almost predatory smile. “Quite a little speech you just gave there, Mrs. Monahan.”
Regan flushes, perhaps at the blunt reminder that no matter the complicated circumstances, she’s my wife. Under the eyes of the law, it’s totally appropriate for us to have sex. But what really got me—what has me now stalking toward her around the coffee table—was her saying wherever Lance is, he wouldn’t judge. As close as I was to Lance, Regan was closer and knew her brother far better than I ever could. I do believe that, just for tonight, I’m going to believe her.
Just for tonight.
Come tomorrow, there’s going to be a lot of blame on alcohol, but I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, I want her too much to listen to my conscience anymore.
Lengthening my strides, I reach her in two steps. Hands to her face, I slam my mouth onto hers. The minute her arms wind around my neck, my hands go to her ass and I lift her. It’s an intimate, commanding move, and Regan responds by locking her legs tightly around my waist.
I kiss her fervently as I walk to the door off the main living area that houses the master suite. It’s not fully closed so I just push on through and barrel right toward my bed. I manage to crawl up it still holding her, then settle her right underneath me. My mouth moves from hers, across her cheek, and then down her neck. Regan’s delicate fingers slide through my hair. When my hips settle down on hers, she lifts her legs and uses her thighs to hold me tight.
Dragging my mouth over her collarbone to the base of her throat, I start to work at the buttons of her blouse, exposing more and more flesh the farther south I move.
When my lips skate over a lump not far under her collarbone, my eyes spring open. I lift my head so I can see and a round protrusion pushing against her skin alarms me. “What is that, Regan?”