The Taking (21 page)

He wanted to take that look off of her face, to hold her and make her relax, to feel the beauty in herself that he saw.

He also wanted to reassure himself she was alive and well, despite whatever the hell Camille was doing to her.

And he just wanted her.

Without waiting for a response, Felix leaned forward and kissed her, a slow, seductive press of his lips on hers. Closing his eyes, he sighed with pleasure. She tasted better than he could have imagined, like wine and sweetness, her lips a perfect fit to his, the intimacy intoxicating. It had been so long, and she was so much. The most amazing woman he had ever encountered in his long and ultimately pointless life.

“Regan,” he breathed, taking in her floral scent. Felix kissed her again, harder, still holding her face in his hands. “You’re delicious.”

She made a sound of approval, her hands rising to twine around his neck. She kissed him back, her legs shifting in closer, breasts beneath her cotton nightgown pressing against him. He enjoyed the taste, the touch, the sound of her, knowing it couldn’t go any further, knowing a kiss would have to be enough.

Then she made a fatal error. She opened her mouth.

Just a little more ... he would take just a little more then be done. But then his tongue slipped between her lips and he knew a little would never be enough. He wanted his tongue, his hands, his cock on her, in her. Almost more than anything he had ever wanted. But he just might have been able still to show restraint and walk away and not involve her in the mess of his life, his soul.

Except that Regan groaned and met his tongue with hers in a teasing little flicker, at the same time she thrust her inner thighs against his erection, her hands entwining his neck even more.

It was that shift, that moment of her acquiescence that made it impossible for him to resist. She had given in, abandoned herself to the kiss, the moment, to him, and Felix found that the hottest fucking thing he had ever seen, felt, known in his life.

So he was going to ignore everything rational screaming in his head to stop, to think, to walk away, and he was going to give her pleasure.

Felix stepped back and took her hand, planning to lead her to the bed.

But Regan shook her head, her eyes slumberous with desire, lips shiny and swollen, nipples tight against her nightgown. “No. Against the wall.”

Oh, no, she didn’t. Felix almost groaned out loud. She had to know how unbelievably sexy that was. “Whatever you want, beautiful,” he told her, and pushed her back until she hit the nearest wall, his lips on her neck, on the cleavage he revealed by yanking down the neck of her nightgown.

He was going to give her exactly what she wanted and then some.

Regan couldn’t believe she’d just said that out loud. She’d told Felix to take her against the wall. But it had just slipped out, the culmination of a very weird night, fear that she was losing her mind, fear that she could have died. Chris’s suggestion for what to do with Felix had popped into her head, and she had wanted it. Wanted rough and raw sex that screamed she was alive.

When Felix yanked her nightgown over her head and tossed it on the floor she felt just that way. Alive, drowning in pleasure, needing it now, ripping the fabric of fear off of her. His mouth closed over her nipple and she gasped, digging into his shoulders with her nails. It was a blur of sensation, of fast, hard desire springing up and driving her to tug off his T-shirt, to claw at the button on his jeans, take down his zipper, while he kissed, sucked, nipped at her breasts, neck, mouth.

His finger slipped inside her panties, and deep into her slick desire. Regan threw her head back and tried to moan, but her breath was gone. His other hand yanked down her panties and lifted her thigh to rest on his.

Then he was in her with a hard thrust that liberated her voice and had her groaning in ecstasy. He was big, powerful, pushing inside her wet body with rhythmic, forceful pumps, his breathing hot next to her ear.

There was no time, no room for words in the tight, hot cocoon of pleasure, her back crammed against the wall, his body over her, against her, in her.

When he skimmed his thumb over her clitoris, she came with a cry, the intensity startling, overwhelming, and she tightened her grip on him, her whole body a taut string of desire as it wracked her.

“Regan,” he said through gritted teeth.

Then she felt the pulse of his orgasm, a ragged moan escaping him, and she smiled, reveling in her own after-shocks and the triumphant female power of knowing she had caused him to come undone so quickly.

His hand slapped on the wall and he shuddered deeply as he throbbed inside her. Both of their voices quieted into ragged breathing before Felix shifted and gave her a soft kiss.

Then he smiled. “Was that what you had in mind?”

Regan nodded, giving a small laugh, her shoulders sagging. “Oh, yeah.” It amazed her that he was still inside her, her leg propped over his, that he had wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. He was so good-looking it was almost painful to look at him, astonishing to think that she, the quiet woman who worked hard to never rock the boat or do anything wild or outrageous, had done just that.

But she didn’t feel like herself lately. Or maybe she felt more like herself. Despite the fears, the doubts, the odd occurrences in the house, she felt intensely free, alive, excited to discover who exactly Regan Henry was beyond dutiful daughter and trophy wife.

It seemed the real Regan had just stood up and had sex against the wall.

“You’re amazing,” he said, nuzzling in her neck. “And I’m going to do that again in about five minutes, slower this time.”

“You are?” Regan shivered, her inner muscles contracting on him at the thought of a repeat performance.

He groaned. “Damn, don’t do that yet”

Felix pulled out of her, causing her to sigh in disappointment, then he bent over and skimmed her panties back up from where they’d been held captive at her ankles. He brushed his lips over her stomach in a gesture that struck Regan as intensely intimate, and she curled her fingers into his short hair as he came back to her mouth and kissed her hard.

“Why don’t you get in bed and I’ll be right back,” he said, stepping away from her, his jeans still undone, belt clanking to the side, but everything important tucked back into his black boxer briefs.

She hadn’t even really had a chance to see him naked, to see his smooth erection. She’d just felt it, deep inside her. A fresh rush of moisture between her legs had her unfolding herself from the wall so she could head to the bed. But she couldn’t take her eyes off him as she went. He was so freaking gorgeous, his bare chest toned and broad, his cross necklace dangling down, a barbed-wire tattoo around each of his biceps.

Felix gave her a smile and kicked off his shoes, then headed toward her bathroom, jeans riding low on his hips. He had another tattoo on his back between his shoulder blades, an elaborate scrolling word, but in the dimness of the room she couldn’t make out what it said. Climbing onto her bed, she tossed the two chocolates she had been debating eating before falling asleep off the bed onto the carnage of the original box.

He hadn’t just thrown the chocolates on the floor, he had clearly stepped on them too, crushing both box and candy alike. She had no idea what the hell that had been all about. He couldn’t possibly be jealous of her ex-husband. Beau was just that, her ex, and she and Felix had never even so much as kissed before tonight. It was way too premature to think that she could inspire jealousy in him. Yet he had trashed the sweets, no doubt about it.

Whatever. She didn’t need the calories glomming onto her backside anyway. Not to mention that accepting any gift from Beau gave her a knot in her stomach, no matter how inexpensive, innocuous, or mouthwatering it might be. It was a connection to him, and frankly, she wanted to sever all of those.

Regan crawled under the covers and sighed in contentment, the sheets cool on her hot body. It was completely bizarre that she didn’t remember what she’d been dreaming about or getting out of bed and drinking the wine. Going outside had been so dangerous, and she hoped the sleep-walking was a onetime incident. But at the moment, she refused to stress about it. She had a hot man in her bathroom who was planning to have sex with her again pronto. She could worry about her new nocturnal habits later.

Lying there, head sinking into her pillow, she debated turning the lamp on or not. It would be nice to see him better, and the bulb was soft and filtered by the shade. She had no desire to expose herself under harsh overhead lights, but a little bit of light on the subject—namely him—would be nice. Leaning over, she turned the knob and winced when the sudden brightness hit her in the eye. She flopped onto her side, away from the light, to let her eyes recover.

And screamed.

There was a snake in the bed with her. Right next to her, brown and big and scaly and staring at her with its little black beady eyes. It moved, its body gliding up toward the pillow next to hers, its head turning to watch her, like it was tracking her, and Regan’s scream froze in her mouth.

She was terrified of snakes and, as such, had never been able to look at them long enough, even in pictures, to learn which were poisonous and which were safe. But it didn’t matter. Venomous or not, she felt with absolute certainty that she was going to die, either from an actual bite or from pure, lacerating fear.

“Regan, what’s wrong?” Felix came up next to the bed in his boxers, frowning. “Are you okay?”

The snake was between them, turning toward the new movement Felix had made.

“A snake. There’s a snake in the bed,” she managed, still unable to move, afraid if she did it would turn and strike.

“A snake?” Felix leaned over the bed, right over the reptile itself, and yanked all the covers back. “Where?”

“Right there!” She pointed to the snake, which was inches from his chest. “Felix, move!”

My God, was he blind?

“Regan.” Felix looked at her in concern, having tossed all the bedding onto the floor after shaking it vigorously, all while the snake lay exposed right on the sheets in front of him. “There’s nothing in this bed.”

The snake shot upward, its mouth striking and landing a bite on Felix’s arm. Regan screamed again, propelled into movement. Scrambling backward off the bed, she tumbled to the floor, wondering how you killed a snake. After struggling to her feet, she was glancing around for a weapon and her cell phone to call 911, when she suddenly realized Felix wasn’t writhing in pain or battling to knock a snake off of him.

He was just standing there staring at her, puzzled, no signs of pain.

And no signs of a snake. In the bed or anywhere else.

Regan stopped at the bottom of the bed and burst into tears. What was happening to her? She was going absolutely crazy.

Felix moved toward her. “Regan, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” She covered her bare chest with her arms. “I saw a snake in bed. I saw it bite you. And it’s not there! I’ve lost my mind.”

“Didn’t you tell me snakes are your greatest fear?”

“Yes.”

Felix reached for her and she winced.

“Hey. You aren’t afraid of
me,
are you?”

No, she definitely wasn’t afraid of him. If anything, she was fighting the urge to throw herself into his arms for a little bit of support from those firm shoulders. Which was interesting because it wasn’t like he was a comforting sort of man. There was an edge, a reserve, a coldness to a lot of his words. Then other times, it seemed like he just looked at her and there was a connection ... an understanding. An acceptance of her.

Tonight, he had been there for her, when she had been tottering on the balcony, and when she had needed to be touched.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m not afraid of you.” What she was afraid of was that she was losing her grip on reality, the solidness of her mind suddenly melting down into a mass of jumbled nonsense. She was afraid she was imagining everything. That there were no ghosts, that it was all her, suddenly breaking out in a rash of insanity.

“We don’t know exactly what happened when you were asleep, but it’s clear to me that you tried to do a courage spell, which means swallowing your fears. I think that given your state of semiconsciousness, what you did was simply to manifest your fears. You created a snake in the bed.”

Regan turned that one over and over in her head. It sounded strange and out there, and yet oddly reassuring. “So you think that by trying to conquer my fears, I just conjured them instead?”

“Exactly.” Felix wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his bare chest.

“But why am I doing these things asleep? It would have never occurred to me to do any sort of spell, let alone one to dispel my fears. I don’t know any spells, Felix.” Her hands were crunched between her chest and his, yet she had no desire to drop them, to open herself fully to him. She needed a shield, however imaginary, between them for protection.