Capturing Peace by Molly McAdams Page B

brushed her lips softly across mine, and when her eyelids slowly opened, they revealed a heat in her hazel eyes. “I want to fall asleep to your voice . . . while you’re in my bed.”
    “Duchess,” I said darkly.
    Pushing back on my chest so she could move away from the wall, she grabbed one of my hands and began walking backward down the hall. “Please don’t leave.”
    “Staying could be dangerous.” I warned her. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop us this time.”
    She smiled when we stepped into her room and let go of my hand to press hers to my stomach again. Her eyes flickered down to watch as her fingers moved along the inside of my jeans. “Maybe you shouldn’t stop us anymore.”
    I bit down on the inside of my cheek and took a deep breath in and out. My first thought was to grab her and take her to the bed, but I had to make sure she wouldn’t regret this tomorrow.
    “Reagan, don’t do this for me,” I said, my voice coming out rough from trying to restrain myself.
    She bit back a smile and looked up at me. “Stop thinking you’re pushing me into something I’m not ready for. I want this.” A look of uncertainty crossed her face, and her hand stilled. “Unless you don—”
    Grabbing the back of her head, I slammed my mouth down onto hers and growled, “Don’t finish that thought. You’d be out of your goddamn mind to think I don’t want you.”
    Walking us toward the bed, I grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head—letting the material fall to the floor as I pushed her a step away. My eyes moved over her body, and snapped up to hers when her hands went to her back to undo the clasp on her bra.
    Closing the distance between us again, I put my hands on her hips and led her back until her legs hit the bed. She stumbled onto it with a husky laugh, and I moved my hands to her bare knees. Parting them enough so I could step between her legs, I watched as she moved the straps of the bra off her shoulders and down her arms. As soon as it was on the floor with her shirt, her hands went to cover herself, and her legs tried to close as the most beautiful blush I’ve ever seen stained her cheeks.
    Moving one of my hands to where she was holding her breasts, I grabbed at her wrists and moved her resisting arms away from her body as I laid her down on the bed.
    Resting our hands above her head, I brushed my lips against her softly, and asked, “Where’d my fearless girl go?”
    Her lips trembled against mine when she responded. “Its one thing to start it—and to feel confident. Its another when there’s nothing to hide behind anymore.”
    I moved back enough to look into her eyes, and shook my head softly. “Don’t hide yourself with me. Do you know how beautiful you are?”
    Kissing her until I felt her body begin to relax under mine, I slowly moved down her neck and chest until I reached the swell of her breast. With the hand still on her knee, I ran it up her thigh, taking her short and loose skirt with me, until I was gripping her hip through the bunched-up material. Pulling one of her nipples into my mouth, I smiled against her when her back arched and her fingers gripped my hand—just like she’d done when we’d been in my studio.
    Sitting back on my knees, I moved down her breast and over to the other to pay the same attention, and released her hip to let my fingers trail under the part of the skirt that was still covering her. I moved over the insides of her legs, and the top of her underwear, but never closer until she started restlessly moving on the bed.
    “Coen, please .”
    Grabbing the lace covering her, I pulled it down, and over her legs—letting her move them the rest of the way off as I trailed my fingers over her wet heat. Reagan pressed against my hand and moaned when I made teasing circles against her clit.
    “Let me touch you,” she pleaded as she tried to free her arms.
    The second I released her, she was pulling on my shirt, and