My steps out of Regan’s bathroom are slow and sluggish. It's barely 5 AM—I kid you not! With all the blood in my body rushing to my lower extremities, I had no clue my interaction with Regan this morning was happening before the sun had even risen. Who bothers looking at a clock when you’re awakened by a woman as beautiful and captivating as Regan? Not anyone sane.
I've barely crossed the threshold between the bathroom and Regan's bedroom when a sing-song voice halts my steps. "Whatcha doing?"
Although Regan’s voice is missing the angst it held last night when she was gripped by a nightmare, its mischievous edge raises my skepticism. “Showering. You?” I pretend I can’t see her sitting on her bed, eating cheese puffs for breakfast.
“Eating cheese puffs,” she answers, stating the obvious. “It’s what I always do while waiting for the show to begin.”
“Show?” My brows lift as I scan the bed she's sitting on, seeking the clothes I laid out before entering the bathroom.
My eyes return to Regan when she drags out, "Yeah. Show." Her face doesn't give anything away, but her eyes’ appreciative rake over my body reveal every sordid detail of the "show" she's waiting for.
“Rae. . .”
My words fall short when she stands to her feet to mosey my way. She has her killer I'm going to destroy you with nothing but my eyes look down pat. Her hair is sitting on the top of her head in a messy bun only someone as gorgeous as she could pull off, and her face is void of makeup. She's a fucking knockout, and I'm utterly defenseless to her allure.
“It’s only fair we even the playing field, right? You’ve seen mine; now I get to see yours.” She slants her head to the side as if to say, don’t worry, I won’t kill you just yet before her eyes stray to the towel sitting dangerously low on my hips. “If it makes you feel any better, we can pretend you’re unwell, and I’m the nurse checking your vitals.”
After returning her eyes to mine, she pops a cheese puff between her lips and seductively pushes it into her mouth. You'd think comparing my cock to a cheese puff would kill any chance of me getting a boner. It doesn't. I'm so fucking hard, I have no doubt Regan can see the outline of my cock through my towel. Or even worse, I'm pitching a four-person tent.
I could glance down to check, but that’s the equivalent of tapping out to a woman as fierce as Regan. I've been called many things, but there's one I'll never be accused of: being a quitter. I'll walk from Texas to Florida butt-naked before I announce defeat in our latest game of tit for tat. Don't get me wrong; I'll happily fall to my knees in front of Regan. But once I'm done with her, I won't be the only one legless.
“Do you always eat cheese puffs for breakfast?” I whip off my towel and dump it at her feet as if I am oblivious to the challenge in her eyes. “I thought you country folks were all about the protein. How are you supposed to have strong bones if you start your day with chips created on the floor of an animal feed factory?”
“Protein doesn’t make your bones strong. Milk does,” Regan replies, trying her hardest to keep her eyes above my waistline but miserably failing. “Amongst other things.” Her eyes drop to my crotch when she stutters over the word “other.”
Ignoring the way her prolonged stare increases the thickness of my cock, I scan her room once more, seeking my bag. “Have you seen my clothes? I swear I left them right where you were sitting."
“Nope,” Regan replies with a shake of her head. “Haven’t seen them.”
She’s a terrible liar. Not only did she blink three times before she tried to pull the wool over my eyes, her lust-filled gaze unintentionally darted to a set of drawers on my left. She’s as bad as a drug addict hoping to hide her stash from her parole officer. She just gave away her loot without a single word seeping from her lips.
If it wasn’t 5 AM—and I wasn’t hard enough to drill through the equator—I’d head straight for the drawer she glanced at. But since I’m working off minimal sleep and a sudden lack of blood supply to my brain, I play along.
"What am I going to do if I can't find my clothes? Your dad threatened to milk my gizzards with a bucket last night, so I don't think he’d appreciate me wandering around his property with my junk hanging out."
Regan’s smile makes my idiocy even more perceptible. “I can think of a few things you can do without clothes.”
I wait for her teeth to finish raking her lower lip before asking, “Oh, yeah. Like what?”
I wish I had listened to the dirty side of my brain when it demanded I stroke one out in the shower earlier when Regan proceeds to fill the last ounce of air between us. I can't think with this many pheromones pumping through my veins. I can't even talk.
Touch, on the other hand. I have no issues with touch. My fingers weave through Regan’s hair to unknot her bun before she’s even come to a stop, and my mouth inclines toward hers just as quickly, stealing any chance of a protest.
Well, that was my plan.
“Nuh-uh.” Regan’s lips are so close to mine, her devastating rejection vibrates my mouth before nicking a vital artery in my chest. “We’ve been there, done that.” Her wide-with-need eyes lift to mine. “You left me hanging—twice.”
"Twice? When?" Her eyes answer my question on her behalf. "Hell no. I'm not accepting blame for the incident this morning. You weren't the only one left hanging. My cock hasn't stopped pulsating since you left me high and dry. It's fucking distraught after your effort."
I expect Regan’s showy personality to illuminate from the devastation in my tone, but for some unknown reason, it has the opposite effect. “Ha! Thanks to you, I haven’t climaxed in over two months!” she shouts, clearly peeved.
I wait for her comment to finish stroking my ego before assuring, “I’ll make it up to you.”
That didn’t come out as I had intended, but I’m glad when the anger in Regan’s eyes fades to lust. “I’m sure you will. . . but until then, how about we even the playing field?”
I glance down at my cock. As anticipated, it's thick, veiny, and pulsating as much as the little blood vessel in Regan’s neck. “I think we’re even.”
Her cheesy breath fans my lips when she releases a deep exhalation of air. “I think we can do better.” Not giving me a chance to seek clarification, she shouts, “Daddy! Can you come up here? I need your help with something.”
I take a step back, mortified as fuck when she bobs down to snag my towel off the ground to toss it down the stairwell outside her room.
"Are you insane?! He will kill me!”
She laughs even louder at my panicked tone when I dash for the drawer she glanced at earlier. I throw it open with so much force, it sails into the air. I’m not superman; the drawer is just as bare as my backside.
As feet stomping up a set of stairs boom into my ears, I toss open the remaining three drawers in Regan's room. There isn't a single article of clothing to be found—not even a dress I’d happily wear for the remainder of the weekend.
I can only hope Regan dug my grave as efficiently as she cleared her room of apparel because things are about to get messy. I swear to God, my heart is thrashing against my ribs, and just because my stomach is empty hasn’t prevented it from trying to empty itself repeatedly. Men like Hayden don’t joke when they say they have a shotgun. They usually have many, in very convenient places—such as outside their daughters’ bedrooms.
I realize Regan has everyone fooled with her nice girl act when her bedroom door swings open a few seconds later. Mercifully, it isn’t her father coming to disembowel me. It's her mother reminding her that her father left to milk the cows over two hours ago.
"Is there anything I can help you with . . .?" Sally’s words stop halfway out of her mouth when she spots me standing just left of Regan. I tried to shelter myself behind Regan. Although she's tall, her petite frame has no chance in hell of hiding a man with shoulders as broad as mine.
“Sally,” I greet, dipping my chin as my hands lower to cover my deflating crotch. “Pleasant morning.”
“So it seems,” Sally replies, her voice picking up right alongside her smile. “Did you sleep well?”
With words eluding me, I nod.
“Good. I’m glad.” With a wink, Sally pivots around to face Regan. “You were right. Decades change nothing.”
I wait for Sally to leave before shifting my eyes to Regan. I want to yell at her for embarrassing me—not as much as I want to kiss the impish grin off her face—but before I can do either of those things, she snags my duffle bag from the hallway, tosses it into my chest, then exits her room.
"Meet me downstairs in five minutes. I've got some stuff I want to show you today."
Gobsmacked, I shout, “Really, Rae? That’s it?! Who’s leaving who hanging now?”
When she fails to reply to my taunt with her usual quick wit, I sneak a glance out her bedroom door. Her gallop down the stairwell stops halfway, but her eyes remain front and center.
Her unusual quietness causes precum to pool at the crest of my cock. She’s not speechless because she’s void of a retort. She’s struggling to ignore the sexual tension teeming between us. It’s nice knowing I’m not the only one straining to maintain a rational head.
“If I did any of the wicked things streaming through my head right now, my dad would kill you,” Regan warns after a short stint of silence.
“I know,” I reply. “You’ll be worth it.” My last sentence is barely a whisper.
I can’t see her, but I know she's smiling. I can feel it deep in my bones.
My intuition is proven spot on when she cranks her neck back to peer at me. Her smile is one I haven’t seen before. It's carefree and untroubled, as relaxed and beautiful as the person she embodies when she’s on home turf.
"Meet me downstairs," she requests with a jerk of her chin. "There's a whole day waiting for us."
With a wink to finalize the words she can’t express, she finishes galloping down the stairs.