The Taking (30 page)

But he wasn’t around to read the various accounts. He left New Orleans within an hour of Camille’s death and didn’t return for ten years, during which time he perfected
the
art
of
self-loathing.

Regan had scared herself by putting on Beau’s ring, and scared herself even more when she’d been unable to take it off. There were strange things happening in her house, in her mind, and she was worried that it was more abnormal, more dangerous, than she could ignore.

Even now, on the street after dinner, she kept glancing down at her bare finger, picturing the princess-cut diamond on it, how beautiful it had looked, how she had heard almost whispers in her head, assuring her of the rightness of its presence. It had been terrifying, that one part of her rational mind had known the truth, that she didn’t want to be with Beau, while the other had been like a wicked child, encouraging and coaxing and manipulative, daring her to keep the ring on.

There was something so very insane about it, so not herself that Regan felt the gnawing relentlessness of anxiety eating away at her.

But being with Felix, having his hand at the small of her back, and his calm smile trained on her, made her feel almost normal again. She had the sense that no matter what happened, she could count on him to stand by her, and that was a huge reassurance.

As they strolled down Royal Street after having dinner in the courtyard at the Court of Two Sisters, comfortable and content with each other, Regan realized that she finally understood what was needed to sustain a serious relationship. It wasn’t enough just to love. You had to be able to show your partner everything about yourself, good, bad, vulnerable, odd, and know that it didn’t matter. You had to be able to trust that at any given moment, he could and would support you, that his love was well and truly unconditional, and that while you weren’t always going to like each other every single minute, you were always going to love each other.

She loved Felix. It was as simple as that, and when he had reached out and yanked Beau’s ring off her finger, she had known that with absolute certainty. She found Felix the most intriguing, compassionate, self-aware man she’d ever met. She’d seen his good, his bad, his warmth, his cool defensiveness, and she understood that the difference when he showed aloofness had to do with him, not her.

And he was seeing her at her worst, or at least her most vulnerable, and he didn’t care. He thought she was worthy, no matter how imperfect she might be. It was so cliché, but she could truly just be herself around him and he still seemed to think she was deserving of his attention and affection.

Her cell phone rang in her purse and she fished it out to check the screen. “It’s my mother. I’ll call her back.”

Felix shook his head, a smile dancing across his lips. “I still can’t believe that’s your ring tone. It sounds like it could be Harvard’s alma mater or something. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“What should my ring tone be?” she asked, tucking her phone away and reaching for his hand. She wanted to touch him all the time, just feel his skin on hers.

“You’re always listening to pop and dance music. You need something like that on your phone.”

Regan made a face. “I’m really too old to listen to that stuff. It’s my guilty pleasure, but I can’t have it going off on my phone.”

“Why not? If you like it, why is it anyone else’s business?” Felix stroked her thumb with his as he held her hand and paused in front of her house. “We’re home.”

Home. A little word, filled with such meaning. She wanted this beautiful house to become a home, to feel like her own, to not make her heart race, and her eyes dart over her shoulders into the shadows.

She wanted Felix in this house with her.

He made the dark corners lighten and the rooms less empty. “Yes, we’re home. How does one more glass of wine on the balcony sound?”

“Wonderful.”

In two minutes they were out on the balcony, relaxing back in their twin chairs. “I need to get a table,” Regan said, crossing her ankles and sighing in contentment, stomach full, the sweetness of the wine they’d grabbed in the kitchen on her tongue. “So many things to buy and do to this house. It’s too empty now. I want to fill it up.” Maybe that would make the weird uneasiness, the echo she felt, go away.

“There’s so many empty rooms, I don’t even know where you’d begin.” Felix glanced over at her. “Hey, I was thinking ... how would you feel about living together for real, permanently? I don’t have any stuff that would ruin your decor. It’s just me and my clothes. But it would be cool to have a key, to know that I’m going to wake up next to you every day.”

Regan shivered, clutching her glass tighter. He looked so sweet, so sincere, so intense.

“Do you really want that?” she asked, her heart swelling. She hadn’t expected that it would be him who would suggest it. She had thought she’d wait a few months then bring it up herself.

There was something very reassuring in knowing the man you loved was confident in his feelings toward you. And she did love him. She hadn’t planned to fall in love, not now, maybe never again, but she had, sharply and quickly, like having the wind knocked out of her.

“Yes. I know it’s fast, but I love you. I want to be together.”

That was the first time he had straight-out said he loved her, and Regan felt a goofy grin of wonderment splitting her face. “Yes, I absolutely want you to move in. I love you, too. God, I love you.”

She laughed, amazed that they had stumbled into each other’s life. Amazed that when she tossed out the rules and worries and unrealistic expectations for perfection, she could achieve such happiness.

“Regan,” Felix said, his voice deepening, his body leaning toward her.

“What?” she asked, even as she knew. That look he gave her, that burning intense stare, always meant one thing.

“It’s time to go in the bedroom.”

“Oh, really?” Regan licked her bottom lip, her inner thighs automatically warming at his words, her nipples tightening. “To do what?”

“Stand up and walk in and you’ll find out” He stood up and moved the chair out of the way.

Regan could see an impressive erection straining against his jeans, and she didn’t hesitate to obey his instructions. She stood up, smoothing down the front of her Capri pants, knowing the minute she tried to pass Felix he would touch her. The thought excited her, and tossed with the fact that he had told her he loved her, had Regan already aroused and he hadn’t laid one finger on her.

She kept waiting for the day that their sex was slow and considerate and proper, and so far it had never come. She didn’t want it to. It was much more exciting to have Felix wanting and demanding of her, to know that they were both so turned on and so eager that waiting was never an option.

It was that reaction she was anticipating when she brushed past him, and she got it. Regan was in the doorway when his hands landed on her waist and pulled her back to bump against his erection. His hands slid down the front of her pants, down along the vee between her legs, his lips brushing along her jaw.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Regan shivered, a soft moan escaping her both from his words and from the fact that he was stroking across her pants in a teasing, coaxing rhythm. Hot saliva filled her mouth and her eyes drifted half-shut. “I love you, too.”

He unhooked the clasp on her pants.

Regan started to turn, but he held her in place. She made a sound of protest. “Felix, we’re in the doorway.”

“No one can see you. Only me.”

She didn’t think it would take a genius to figure out what they were doing if anyone happened to look up and see Felix thrusting and her pants down at her ankles. Call her crazy, but she didn’t want to meet her neighbors that way.

And she didn’t want to think about neighbors or worry about having her backside exposed or have any thought in her head other than the fact that the man she loved loved her in return. This wasn’t a moment to be self-conscious, but a moment to look into each other’s eyes and embrace that connection.

So Regan stepped forward, undoing the scarf he’d given her and dropping it to the floor in a hot pink puddle. Her shirt followed suit. Undoing her zipper, she stepped out of her pants and went to the bed. Before she could climb on it, he was right behind her, nudging her up against the footboard.

“You feel so amazing,” he murmured, his voice a low growl in her ear, his necklace cool on her back against the heat of her skin. “I can never touch you enough.”

“And I can never have you touch me enough,” she said, sighing in pleasure. In more than pleasure, in amazement and awe and the purest form of bliss.

Felix nuzzled her neck, his fingers running up and down her sides lightly, occasionally veering to the front to brush against her breasts and nipples. Their urgency had quieted, and as if by mutual agreement they both hovered in this place of anticipation, a moment to just hold each other and savor.

It was a sweet, sensual embrace, bare flesh on bare flesh, their feelings open and honest. Regan sighed when his fingers stroked her moist inner thighs. “You make me feel so good.”

“I hope so. That’s the point.” Felix pushed deeper inside her with his finger.

Regan moved against his hand, her knees shifting apart. It was amazing to her that with a few touches, a few kisses, a few strokes of his finger he could make her feel this. This sharp, hot, soaking desire to have him in her body, to make her come over and over. “Harder,” she begged.

Felix gave a soft laugh. “Oh, yeah, is that what you want?” His finger stilled. “You do it then.”

There was a pause, then Regan started to move herself on his finger and Felix felt a fresh jolt of desire. There was something so sweetly sexual about Regan, so free. “I love it that you’re not polite when we’re having sex,” he told her. He wanted her to give in, to feel the freedom, and she did.

“I don’t think I’m being rude,” she said in a jagged voice, hips moving rhythmically over him.

“Not rude. Just not polite. You’re being demanding, taking what you want, and that is so amazingly hot.”

Regan stopped pumping on him, and he could feel the tenseness of her interior muscles. She was on the edge of an orgasm but had stopped herself. “Then get on the bed and fuck me.”

Felix couldn’t prevent a groan from slipping out. That was the first time she had ever said something like that, thrown his own raw, base words back at him, and it was so sexy.

“Yes, ma’am.” Felix shifted away and waited until she climbed on the bed, then he moved over top of her.

“Do you want me to lick you or do you want to me inside you?”

“Inside me,” she said, her eyes glazed over with desire, lips shiny and moist, legs already spread.

Felix trailed his finger over her clitoris, then farther down over her, teasing lightly, before moving in close to her, his erection resting against her.

“Now,” she said, her hips lifting to force the issue.

“Now,” he agreed, and he pushed inside her, joining their bodies.

As he thrust harder, Regan looked up at him, joining their souls.

He laced his fingers through hers, joining their lives.

“I love you,” he told her.

Regan exploded in a powerful orgasm, her back arching, her body squeezing him, as she murmured, “I love you, too.”

And for the first time ever, Felix believed in the power of love.