Capturing Peace by Molly McAdams Page B

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