I pressed my body closer to hers and dropped my forehead onto hers.

“Everything about you scares me,” she admitted quietly.

I ground my jaw and mentally cursed myself for letting her see me frustrated just then. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Reagan.”

“Don’t. You know you and your demons don’t scare me.” She shook her head slowly. “What you can do to me . . . what you can do to Parker. What letting you into our lives can do to us . . . that is what scares me. You have the power to ruin him, Coen, and knowing that makes me want to grab Parker and run.”

“Or maybe I’ll surprise you,” I whispered against her lips. Interlocking our fingers, I raised our hands above our heads and pressed them against the wall. “I respect you for what you’ve done for him. I respect you for being scared for your son. But I know that if you let me in, I’m getting you and Parker . . . not just you.”

Reagan’s eyes met and held mine, and I moved both her hands into one of mine and brought my free hand to cup her cheek.

“When I met you, I already knew what you came with. I don’t want to see what I can get from you only on nights when your son is gone, Reagan. I want to see what we can be together, and I know that includes your son getting to know me.”

“I’ve never introduced a guy to him,” she confessed after a few silent seconds, and I smiled.

“Technically, you’ve already introduced us, and we already know he likes me.” Reagan’s eyes narrowed and I brushed my lips across her nose. “You’ve also never had a guy pursuing you who wasn’t afraid of your walls or the fact that you have a son.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked, and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Pursuing me?”

“Yeah, Duchess. Glad you finally caught on.” Pressing my mouth firmly to hers, I teased her lips with my tongue and squeezed my hand tighter around hers when she opened her mouth to me. “Let me surprise you,” I begged against her lips.

“I’m waiting,” she challenged, and when I looked at the heat in her hazel eyes, I knew the direction of the conversation had changed.

Her breasts moved against my chest with each breath she took, and when I looked down to her parted lips, it was her turn to squeeze my hand from where I still kept them resting high up on the wall. With the hand that had been cupping her cheek, I moved my fingers down her throat, and my lips twitched when I felt her pulse thrumming beneath my fingertips.

Placing my lips on her pulse point, I let my fingers continue a trail down to the low cut of her shirt, and pulled it down even more, revealing her lace-­covered breasts. Making a line of openmouthed kisses down the path my fingers had just taken, I took one of her breasts in my mouth and sucked on her hardened nipple through the lace.

Reagan moaned and arched her back against the wall, and her fingers dug into my hand almost to the point of pain when I raked my teeth across her nipple.

“Coen, please,” she whimpered. “Touch me.”

I let my hand lazily glide down to the top of her shorts, and had just started trying to unbutton them when I remembered where we were. Remembered that I had her pressed against a wall. Releasing her shorts and breast, I moved my mouth back up her chest to her neck, and used my hand to right her shirt.

“Not here,” I whispered against her neck.

She pulled back, her eyes wide. “You . . . you want to stop?”

I looked at my studio and shook my head as I released her hands. “I just don’t want to do this with you here. Let me take you back to my place.”

I’d had meaningless sex in my studio too many times over the years, and the thought of being with Reagan on the same furniture seemed wrong. Like it would cheapen everything about us. Not that there was technically an us yet, but she didn’t deserve that, and I didn’t want that. I wanted somewhere that didn’t have drunken one-­night memories attached to it.

Grabbing her hand, I shut off the lights in my studio as we walked through it, and locked the door behind us once we were outside. I noticed Reagan grabbing her keys out of her purse and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I just figured I’d follow you,” she said, and her cheeks turned red. “You know, so I could leave, um, after or . . . or in the morning.”

Biting back a smile, I nodded and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. “So you plan on staying the night, huh?”

“No, I—­”

“I never said that was a bad thing, Duchess.”

Reagan’s tense body instantly relaxed, and when I pulled away from her she was biting down on the inside of her cheek and her face was red. Fuck, she was adorable.

I walked her to her SUV and waited until she was inside before going to my car and getting in, and as soon as we were on our way to my condo, the direction of my thoughts changed.

Now that I could think clearly without Reagan’s body pressed against mine, I knew that taking her back to my place was the wrong move. I’d just told her I was different. I’d just told her I didn’t want to see what I could get from her on nights when her son wasn’t with her. And yet, the first two nights we were alone—­the first two nights we even spent time together—­things progressed quickly, and only stopped because of a phone ringing, and the fact that I didn’t want to be with her on a couch where I’d fucked random women.

The fact that I could still feel her body against me, the fact that the way she’d softly moaned was still replaying in my mind, and the fact that I was still hard as shit had me wanting to continue the drive to my condo. But I couldn’t do this to her.

Pulling over into an Italian restaurant’s parking lot, I got out of my car and waited for her to do the same.

“Uh . . . this isn’t your place,” she said, her confused tone making it sound more like a question.

“I know.” I nodded and pulled her into my arms. “But I just told you I wanted to surprise you, and the path we were on was the opposite of that. So I’m going to take you to dinner, and at the end of dinner I’m going to walk you back out here, kiss you good night, and go back to my condo alone.”

I held my breath as I waited for her reaction, and told myself again that this was the right thing to do. And as soon as her face lit up in the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen, I knew it had been. Brushing a soft kiss across her lips, I slid my arm around her waist and walked us toward the restaurant.

Reagan—­August 31, 2010

MY PHONE RANG as I pulled into my parents’ driveway, and I couldn’t have contained my smile no matter how hard I tried when I saw his name on my screen.

“Hey!”

He laughed quietly. “I love that you don’t try to hide the fact that you’re excited to talk to me.”

I made a face and looked around as I turned off my car. “Uh, that’s not a good thing, actually, I’m pretty sure that’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Do you know how annoying that whole mysterious, playing hard-­to-­get voice is? You can never tell if the girl is ready to cry, yell at you, or tear off your clothes. With you, I always know exactly what I’m getting.”

I rubbed at my forehead and laughed uneasily. “Okay . . . ? I guess?”

“And I just made this conversation awkward. We’re starting this over.”

“No! No, we’re—­Coen? Hello?” I looked at my screen and scoffed. “You really just hung up on me?” I asked when he called back.

“Ooh, pissed off, Duchess.”

“I’m not—­”

“Hi, Reagan,” he said, cutting me off. His deep voice somehow calming and warming every part of my body.

“Hey,” I said softly, and smiled as I played with the ends of my hair. “I didn’t think I was going to talk to you until later.”

“Is that why you were so excited?”

I laughed and covered my face, groaning into my hand. “Yes, that’s why I was excited. I’m going to be a robot every time we talk from now on. You’ll never have any idea.”

“That would be depressing for me.”

“And probably impossible for me.”

“Uh, yeah. I’d say so. Hey . . . have you gotten Parker yet?”

I went back to playing with the ends of my hair and glanced at my parents’ house. “I’m just about to, I’d just pulled in to pick him up when you called.”

Coen was silent for a few seconds.

“Why?” I asked, drawing out the word.

“I know you’re scared of him getting to know me . . . but I’d really like to take you and Parker out tonight.” When I didn’t respond, his voice filtered through the phone again, his tone now borderline worried. “Reagan?”

“Um,” I began, and licked my lips. “Well . . .”

I looked toward the house again as I tried to come up with an excuse. I have work tomorrow. True. I have to do laundry. Not true. I have to clean. Unfortunately true, but I won’t get to it tonight regardless. I have to watch my plant grow. I don’t have any plants. I need more time to sit here playing with my hair while I think of a really good reason not to go! I straightened in my seat and stared at my steering wheel as I thought. Just last week I hadn’t been ready for the three of us to hang out, but I also hadn’t known how serious Coen was about this relationship—­and he was right: Parker already adored him.

With school starting in less than a week, the only time I’d be alone without Parker would be the Fridays my work was closed . . . I knew this needed to happen soon, or eventually I would start thinking of reasons for us not to be together because of the time apart.

“We can wai—­”

“What’d you have in mind?”

There was a heavy silence before Coen added softly, “Don’t do this if you’re not ready.”