Brett froze, even as his release continued to spill inside of her. “What did you say?”
Regan stared back at him with wide eyes, her mouth open, breaths coming in short pants. “I...”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought you said.”
Slipping out of her, he reached down and yanked his pants up as she scooted back on the bed. “I’ll get you a towel.” Brett high-tailed it to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Oh God, what had they done? She broke him before, but with three little words she just destroyed him. He had dreamed of the day she would utter those words again, always assuming they would come on the cusp of some long explanation that he could stomach.
Even in his dirtiest fantasies, those words hadn’t come during a grudge-fuck that ended in a mind-blowing orgasm.
What the hell had they done?
Cleaning himself up, Brett slid his zipper up and buckled his belt. He washed his face and stared at his reflection before shaking his head.
I’m so fucked.
Grabbing another washcloth, he ran it under the warm water, wrung it out, and blew out a big breath as he exited the bathroom. Sitting beside her on the bed, he handed her the damp washcloth.
She sat with it in her lap, not moving a muscle, her eyes cast down at the floor. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out.”
“Heat of the moment?” Brett fixed his gaze to the same spot on the floor she seemed mesmerized by.
“Yes.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “So, you didn’t mean it.”
“No... I mean, yes, I meant it. No, I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”
“You think you love me?”
“I know I love you. I never stopped loving you.”
“Then why did you stay away for so long?” He glanced at her, catching the silent tears falling onto her clasped hands.
“Because it wouldn’t have been fair to you. I screwed up and left, losing the only man I will ever love. I knew I’d broken your heart, but I had hoped you’d found someone who deserved you and loved you for exactly who you are. My greatest fear has always been I would somehow get you back and then break your heart all over again.”
“What do you think you’re doing right now?”
She covered her face, her voice muffled by her hands. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Brett sat next to her in silence for what felt like hours. His world was shattered. Not that it had ever really been whole since she’d left all those years ago, but at least from far away he resembled an assembled package. Now?
A blind man could see the shredded mess he’d become.
“I’m sorry I ripped your panties.”
She laughed hysterically and then stood up and pulled down her skirt. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry I’m a fucking nutcase.” Without looking at him, Regan shook her head and rushed into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Brett watched her scurry away. Staring at the closed door, he heard the water come on, which did nothing to drown out the sound of her sobbing. He was in pain, his mind and body numb, his brain not processing thoughts in a conducive manner.
Dear God. She loved him and always had.
And yet, she’d hurt him worse than anyone ever had or ever would. But dammit, he never stopped loving her, either. Two people in love, suffering from the things they had done and did to each other, intentional or otherwise. After everything that had happened, could they be together?
He couldn’t stand hearing her cry—any woman, really—but especially not her. But maybe that was what she needed to do right now. He got off the bed and went to the elevator, taking it back down to the garage where he retrieved their coats, his portfolio, and her tote from his car.
She was still in the bathroom when he entered the loft and locked the elevator in the secure position on the twentieth floor. No one was coming to Fifth and Fifth in this weather, and they didn’t have any tenants yet, anyway. Worst case, Derrick had one of the master keys that could override the elevator if he needed to get in.
Brett hung their coats, started a fire in the gas fireplace, and placed her tote next to the bathroom door. He no longer heard her sobs, and the water was no longer running.
He knocked. “Regan?”
“I’ll be right out.”
“I put your tote near the door should you need anything in it.”
Her voice cracked. “Thank you.”
The water turned back on, and he knew she was sobbing again.
“Please stop crying and come out.”
“Just a minute, okay?”
Brett nodded to no one. “Yeah, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
His shoulders sagged as he walked into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator to find not much more than the bare essentials. They’d stocked the lofts with a full bar, beer and wine, coffee, tea, and flavored creamers. Peanut butter and jelly, soups, crackers, and other non-perishable items took up one cabinet. In preparation to host Munro Corporation’s VP of Strategy, Brett had made sure there was a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter and a meat and cheese plate in the refrigerator, but the plan had been to go out for brunch and dinner, and then of course breakfast and lunch the following day.
That’s what one did when wining and dining a potential business partner, as Derrick repeatedly pointed out.
However, the weather had other plans for them, and of course Regan showing up as Munro Corporation’s lead strategist had shot their plans to hell, anyway.
He never should have kissed her the first time, but now that he’d been inside of her, feeling her climax around his cock after so long, he didn’t want it to end. His heart was already forfeit, and apparently hers was too. So why shouldn’t they enjoy each other in the time they had left?
Brett poured himself a scotch and mixed Regan a gin and tonic, not even sure if that was her drink of choice anymore. Walking to the bank of windows overlooking Spring City, Brett watched the wind throw flurries against the glass, causing snow to accumulate inside the covered terrace. Already, a blanket of snow covered the patio furniture in the confined space, which meant down on the streets below drifts built in size, making it near impossible to navigate the uncleared streets.
Tonight was the kind of night where the snowplows would take their time, clearing the major streets first and avoiding the smaller commercial areas where no one needed to be.
He heard the door creak open behind him. Without turning around, he raised his glass.
“I poured you a drink. It’s on the counter.”
“Maybe I should leave.”
No way was he letting her walk away from him, at least not for tonight. He turned around to find her eyes red and puffy, and still, she was as beautiful as ever to him. His heart dropped into his stomach, as the guilt he had no business feeling picked at his brain. “The weather’s gotten bad, and you and I have too much to talk about for you to leave now.”
He walked past her, grabbed her drink, and handed it to her. “We should drink, Regan—a lot. We should drink, and talk, and get twelve years’ worth of what the fuck out on the table. The good, the bad, and the ugly, because when you leave Spring City and me behind this time, I want to know exactly where I stand... and I’m thinking you do too.”
Regan knew Brett was right. She took one look at him, accepted the drink he’d made, and slammed it back without taking a second to taste it.
“Your turn.”
He smirked, swirling what she assumed was some sort of whiskey around in his glass. Taking a sip, he walked over to the bar and set it down. “This isn’t really shooting material, but I have exactly what we need.”
Walking to the granite island in the kitchen, he set down a bottle of Sauza Gold and two shot glasses. He grabbed two limes out of a basket on the counter, sliced them up, and then went back to the bar to grab a salt dish.
Regan shook her head. “You’re not messing around.”
Whoa. They had a rough history with tequila. Hell, they lost their virginities to each other after a night of stolen tequila. They’d eloped while nursing a tequila hangover. For her, tequila had been their drink. Therefore, she hadn’t drunk it with anyone else in twelve years.
“Not even a little.” He rimmed two shot glasses, filled them, and then handed her a wedge of lime. “Let’s play a game.”
She accepted the shot, making eye contact for the first time since letting those damned words slip out of her mouth. “What game?”
“Questions and answers.” He licked the salt off his shot and put the wedge of lime in his mouth.
Regan mimicked his actions, knowing she would need all the liquid courage she could pour down her throat to get through the night.
Lick, suck, shoot. Just like old times.
She sucked air through her teeth. Damn—as far as tequilas went, Sauza Gold was one of the smoothest. Still burned like a son of a bitch, though.
“Why’d New York not suit you?” Brett licked his lips and took her glass from her hand, pouring them both another shot.
She shrugged. “What does it matter?”
“You owe me this. Play the game.” He handed her another shot and a slice of lime.
She licked the salt off the glass, shot the tequila, and sucked the lime, her mind spinning with untold truths. How many years of therapy was this going to set her back? “Fine. I spent the first six months in a funk. When the papers came back signed, I graduated from sad into a full-blown depression. Even after drugs and therapy, I was never the same. I gained weight and didn’t make any friends. New York never felt like home. I left as soon as I graduated, hoping somewhere else would be better.”
Brett watched her, performing his own lick, toss, and suck action. “Was it?”
She nodded, settling onto a cushioned barstool and setting her shot glass down. Good God, her head was already spinning. “I made it better.”
“How did you do that?”
“Work. Gym. Exploring on the weekends. I joined a book club, took art and craft classes, volunteered at the humane society... hell, I even tried religion for a while.” She laughed. “That didn’t last too long.”
Brett grabbed them a couple glasses of water and handed her one. “Here. Take two gulps of water for every shot of tequila.”
She blew out a deep breath, blinking until her eyes came into focus. Well, that had taken no time whatsoever.
Damn altitude.
She chugged the glass of water and set the empty glass down on the counter. “Do you think we can move this game to the couch?”
He grinned. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”
She curled up on one end of the sofa, tucking her feet under her ass, and watched Brett as he moved across the room. He was so beautiful, always had been, but now, especially after experiencing his strength first hand as he carried her out of the elevator, she found it hard not to ache for all the pleasure she knew he could give her.
She was so fucking selfish.
Brett put a pitcher of water and two glasses down on the coffee table before returning with the tequila, lime, salt, and shot glasses.
Regan’s gaze landed on the liquor and then slid up his hard, muscular thighs, realizing he was standing within reach and staring down at her.
She licked her lips as she locked gazes with his golden-brown eyes.
“I like it when you look at me like that.” Brett reached out and brushed her hair out of her face.
Her lips parted in anticipation.
He continued, “I figure it’s like this. We’re stuck here, together, at least for tonight, maybe even tomorrow. Even if we love each other, we’ve hurt each other, a lot. Maybe we’re no good together. Maybe living a thousand miles apart is the best thing for us. But right now, we’re here, and neither of us can deny our chemistry.”
She shook her head. “We can’t deny it.” Her fingers itched to touch him. She reached out and touched his knees, sliding her hands up his outer thighs. Looking up at him, she licked her lips again, waiting, wanting, anticipating. “What are we going to do about it?”
He smiled. “I’m going to make love to you like I used to. I’m going to pleasure you until your skin’s inflamed from my touch, until we are both sore and depleted. Or until one of us cries uncle.”
Her lips spread into a wicked grin as she shifted to sit up on her knees. She reached for his belt, popping it open, not once taking her eyes off his. “Me first.”