At First Touch (The Malone Brothers) (13 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

E
RIC
’
S
VOICE
,
SO
familiar now, so comforting, washed over Reagan, but still she trembled. She wasn’t a virgin, but it had been a while. And she wasn’t all that experienced to begin with. Plus, the accident had happened. Every single thing in her life was different now, like starting over. With everything.

She was nervous.

Eric threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her to him. He lifted her hands, draped them over his neck, and he grazed her mouth with his, slowly, carefully, as though making sure he didn’t leave anything untouched.

Reagan relaxed a little and let her hands and fingertips explore Eric. Through his shirt she felt his solid strength and cut of muscle. Not overwhelming, but that natural kind of muscle that came with hard physical work. Her fingers moved over his back as their mouths melded, and she felt the cords stretch and tighten with his movements. Then she pulled back, pushed his shirt up, and Eric yanked it over his head.

Eric’s kiss became hungrier, and hers matched his as he pushed her sweater off and tossed it to the floor. Reagan’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, and Eric took over, all the while tasting her mouth as though he hadn’t had a meal in days.

Somehow their clothes ended up thrown all over the floor, she supposed, and Eric scooped Reagan up in his arms and laid her on the bed, following her down. She still had on her bra and panties, and he a pair of snug boxer briefs, and he leaned over her, not kissing her, being quiet.

“What’s wrong?” she asked hesitantly.

“I’m just making sure this stays in my memory,” he said quietly. “God, Reagan, you’re beautiful.”

With Eric, she felt it, too.

Then she reached for his hands, and she guided them to the front snap of her bra, and he released her breasts and again, he was dead silent until she moved his hands over her skin. The groan that escaped his throat was raw, male and unintentional, and he fell against her, claiming her mouth once more, but still keeping his weight braced off her with one arm.

Then she took his free hand and moved it to her hips, and he pushed her panties down, and she slid them off her feet, and at some point he lost his boxers because when he gathered her in his arms again, nothing was between them except their warm, flushed skin. His hands moved all over her, her jaw, pushed through her hair, held her head just so to kiss her deeply. When he moved over her, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him to her, inside her, and they both gasped and started an age-old rhythm that seemed as natural as breathing. With his arms completely wrapped around her body, Eric moved faster, and Reagan’s breath caught as she climaxed. Eric’s mouth captured hers, and as they both slowed, his kisses grew less hungry and more gentle, and he tucked her beside him, face-to-face. One hand on her hip, holding her close. He kissed her again.

“Does this mean I get to call you my girl now?” he asked, and his voice was husky, sexy.

“Only if you sing it when you say it,” Reagan teased. She reached with her hand, tracing her knuckles against the scruff of his jaw.

“Don’t tempt me to sing, now,” he warned. “You know I will.” He kissed her again.

“I like it when you sing,” she announced. “The old songs you know crack me up.”

He chuckled. “You know them, too, since you seem to jump right in and sing along. Might mean you’re just as corny as me, don’t you think?”

Reagan ran the pads of her fingers over his lips—full, soft, but firm. She loved the way he kissed her. “Yeah, I’m thinking that. Definitely corny.”

They talked for some time after that, and laughed, then dressed and made pancakes in the kitchen and washed them down with giant glasses of chocolate milk.

“When you say the painting is for me, does that mean I get to take it with me?” Eric suddenly asked.

Reagan smiled wide. “Of course. It’s all yours.”

“Sweet. I’ll just run and get it from the gallery.”

His footfalls ran and were back in a few moments. “Reagan, I’m not kidding when I say this is absolutely mind-blowing. I love it. Thank you.”

Reagan felt the blush rise onto her cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

“And you are so damned cute when you blush,” he noted.

She blushed even harder.

It was late—after 2:00 a.m. by the time they were finished—and Reagan walked Eric to the front door, where he braced an arm over her, held her jaw gently with one hand and kissed her breathless.

“You know I’d just stay all night if I could,” he said between tasting the corner of her mouth and sucking her bottom lip. “But I have to be at the station by six.”

Reagan smiled and kissed him playfully back. “You’re scared of my sister.”

“And I’m scared of your sister,” he admitted. “Where is she, by the way?”

“She and your brother are spending the weekend at Caper’s Inlet,” Reagan said. “Very romantic tryst, so she claims.”

“So you’ll be home. All alone. All weekend?” He kissed her throat.

Reagan giggled. “I will be.”

His hands went to her waist, and his fingers dug into her ribs. “That is very interesting.”

Reagan laughed and squirmed at his tickling, but calmed right back down and tried to keep her knees from buckling when his playful kiss turned deep, sexy. Finally, Eric pushed away.

“You’re killing me, girl,” he said, and gave her one last kiss on the forehead, and walked out onto the veranda. She heard him pause. “If you need anything, call me.”

“I will,” she agreed.

“Night,” he said.

“Night back,” she returned.

Eric’s footfalls jogged down the steps and crunched across the yard.

Just before he started the lyrics to the Temptations’ “My Girl.”

Reagan just stood there listening to his voice, slightly off-key but not too bad, and smiled. Soon, the night swallowed his voice, replaced by the creatures of the marsh, and after a moment she closed the door, locked the bolt and went to bed.

As she lay there, Eric’s scent rose from the pillow beside her, and still smiling, she turned into it and inhaled deeply.

Never, ever would she have thought things would end up this way.

God, she was glad.

Despite the loss of her sight, Reagan could say for the first time since the accident that everything seemed perfectly right in her life.

Soon, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A
FTER
THAT
NIGHT
, everything in Reagan’s life seemed to just work. She was painting every day, for one, and although she couldn’t see the finished product well, it was crystal clear in her mind and somehow, the two worlds melded and they turned out exactly as she would want them to. She’d started a new project, and it was a couple sitting high at the top of a Ferris wheel, looking out over the boardwalk and pier and ocean, and again, Eric was in complete awe. It helped build such confidence in her, to be able to manage her painting again. Once she’d lost her sight, she just knew her painting days were over. Thanks to Eric, how very wrong she’d been.

They left the dog days of summer behind, and despite the still-warm temperatures, fall was in the air. Rather, the spirit. And since Emily’s and Matt’s wedding was just around the corner in October, preparations were in full swing. Emily had kept it quite simple, though, and she’d done most of the planning and decorating ideas herself. She’d wanted vintage, and that’s just what she was going for. God, how she wished she were able to see her sister on her wedding day. Reagan knew it’d be the absolute most beautiful day of all.

And of course, Eric Malone could not be more perfect. For her, anyway. They grew closer each day, and when he wasn’t at the station, they were together more times than not. They walked the beach. They went crabbing in the creek. At least once a week they’d hit Jasper’s Old Time Creamery. Sometimes they’d lie out on the floating dock, and Eric would read to her, books he’d pull from Jep’s library. Presently, they were on
Treasure Island
, and Eric being Eric, he didn’t merely sit and read. He had to stand up, read and become each character with a different voice. She often wondered how he had the patience for it. She encouraged him, though, to do the typical guy stuff, and he did. Usually, there was a football game to be played, and he’d go, or offshore fishing. She and Emily would do sister things, like shopping or wedding planning. Recently they’d all gone to a karaoke bar and Eric and a few of his Coast Guard buddies got up and did their group rendition of Graham Blvd’s “Hooked on a Feeling,” and Reagan had never had so much fun in her life. She and Eric just clicked. They really enjoyed each other’s company. She’d worried they’d be in and out of a cupcake phase, where the relationship was all new and fresh and fluffy and wonderfully sweet—just before tanking into something humdrum and boring and not as fun. But Eric and his fiancée ended their relationship because he’d wanted to move back home. What if she got the urge to move from Cassabaw one day? Right now, that wasn’t the plan. But it was obvious Eric was a homeboy, and wanted to make permanent roots on the island. He was different from most guys, she figured. He enjoyed life. Really enjoyed it. His engine ran top fuel and full tank 24/7, and she could tell he truly liked being with her.

And when he kissed her? Touched her? It was all she could do not to fall apart. He made her feel alive. Made her feel beautiful. As though she weren’t blind at all. And more than that, Reagan trusted him. Wholeheartedly. And for her, that was saying something. Something big.

Neither had said the
L
-word, which was okay, because this was not a relationship she wanted to rush. There was no need to, it seemed. Life would take them, and they would find their way. The journey was something Reagan was looking forward to.

And Emily was completely over the moon over the whole idea of her and Eric together. Over. The. Moon. So were all the Malones, actually.

And so was Reagan.

Perfect. Everything was, simply put, perfect. And that was the problem.

Nothing was ever perfect.

She was secretly waiting for the inevitable bomb to drop. She could almost feel it. Things didn’t work out so smoothly. Never. Only in Hollywood, and they were most certainly not in some movie. This was real life, and in real life, problems arose. Sometimes, blindly, and out of absolute nowhere.

So wasn’t she being a fool for just letting go?

* * *

“Y
OU
’
RE
ON
,
MAN
,”
Eric said to his pilot, Kurt, as they left the chopper on the pad. Kurt was old-school. A badass. But not badass enough. He loosened the strap on his helmet and took it off.

“What now?” Rod, the other swimmer, said, doing the same. “Either way, my dough’s on Malone.” He winked at Kurt. “No offense, gramps.”

“Malone here thinks he can out-lap me in the pool,” Kurt said.

“Oh, wait,” Rod stuttered. “Kurt’s a freak of nature in the pool, man. A straight-up beast.”

“Hey, it’s your buck, man,” Eric warned.

They all ducked into the barracks, but before Eric could set his gear down, the captain appeared.

“Malone, you have a visitor,” he said.

Eric grinned. “Is she strawberry blonde and gorgeous?” he asked.

Captain Riggs Reynolds just stared at him with that stony look. “Nope.” He inclined his head. “Been waiting here for two hours. Giddyap.”

“Yes, sir,” Eric said, stashing his helmet and gear and giving his friends a glance. He had no clue who’d shown up at the station. He jogged into the main entry, and the moment his eyes landed on the only person sitting in a chair by the window, he froze. His heart pounded.

Celeste Tanner rose from her seat, a smile on her face. “Hi, Eric.”

Eric barely heard the words that came out of her mouth.

Because his eyes were glued to her very swollen, very pregnant stomach.

He felt the color drain from his face. Felt it like water being flushed down a toilet. He could say nothing. Not a damn thing. All he could do was stare.

“I forgot how sexy you look in uniform,” she said, moving closer, taking odd, waddling steps.

Finally Eric found his voice. “Celeste, what are you doing here?” he asked. His eyes couldn’t look at her face. He could only stare at that huge stomach.

Then she stood before him—as close as she could without bumping into him with her belly. “Well,” she said. “I thought it was time to tell you the truth. I...just couldn’t hide it anymore.” She gave a giggle, and her hand moved over her stomach. He did look at her then, and those wide brown eyes he’d once loved widened and grew bright. “We’re going to have a son, Eric. You’re going to be a daddy.”

“You, what?” Eric’s brain was spinning so fast, he almost felt the need to sit down. “What are you talking about, Celeste?”

Her eyes didn’t falter. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” She glanced around, her black ponytail sliding over her shoulder. “Do you think you can leave work, so we can go somewhere and talk in private?” She reached for his hand and squeezed. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Stunned and shocked didn’t quite cover it. Angry? Hell yeah. “You wait all these months and then just show up at my job and drop this?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Breathed. Counted to three. He sounded like a tool and he knew it. “Celeste, how’d you get here?”

“Plane, silly,” she said, and seemed to not be fazed by his outburst. “Then I cabbed over and I’ve been waiting for you.” She stroked his arm. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Eric could do nothing but look at her. This wasn’t happening. No way in hell was this happening.

“Eric?”

He shoved his hands through his hair, grasped the back of his neck and just stared at the ceiling, pacing. He needed to think. He needed to wrap his brain around all of this.

“Malone,” Captain Reynolds called to him.

Eric met his gaze, and the captain waved him over. “Take the rest of the afternoon off, son,” he said. “We’re covered here.”