Chuckling as I pulled her up against me, I absolutely had to respond to that. “You think I have a problem with you having sexual thoughts about me at work?” I kissed her lightly. “I want you to have sexual thoughts about me every fucking time you say my name, no matter where you are. I want my name to be the only one that makes you wet when you think it or say it out loud. I want you to scream my name when I bring you to the edge of ecstasy, and think of that moment every time you say my name. Do you get it now?”
Breathing hard, Reagan nodded.
“Will you call me by my first name now?”
She shook her head.
“Why not?” I growled as I cinched her up against me even more tightly.
“I can’t have those kinds of thoughts in my head all day, every day without acting on them. You’re too much, too addictive and consuming. Don’t you get that?”
She spun out of my grip and left my office before I could stop her. Sinking down to sit on my desk, I didn’t think a woman had ever said something so fucking erotic to me before. It took everything I had not to follow her, pull her into the stairwell and act on my own thoughts in that moment. What was she doing to me? I’d thought finally being with her would cool my obsession with her, but it had only made it worse. I wanted her more now than ever before.
And I was determined to win this battle.
Checking the schedule for the photography studios, I smiled when I saw her scheduled to do a shoot with Brandon in twenty minutes and headed in that direction. Marie had teamed up with Reagan. Even though Brandon had taken to calling my girlfriend Beautiful since the day she modeled for him, I knew he would take my side on this.
When I stalked into the room, his devilish grin said he’d already guessed why I was there. “I take it Reagan’s determination is still kicking your ass?” Brandon mocked.
“I’m putting an end to it.”
He snorted. “About time.”
Emily gave me a curious look when she followed the model being used for the shoot into the studio, but didn’t question. She was usually more than willing to let things go however they would and enjoy the show as they did. Even though she was Reagan’s best friend, I knew I had another ally in her, as well. She rolled her eyes every time she heard her friend call me Mr. Gabriel. When Reagan walked in, her steps stuttered before she sighed heavily and took up her place next to Brandon without saying a word to me.
Knowing this shoot was meant to point out flattering body positions in different types of clothing, I already had a plan in mind. The article the pictures would be used in was geared toward portrait photographers who might be dealing with clients wanting to look a little slimmer, or not accentuate large hips, or a variety of other requests clients often hoped for in their family or senior pictures.
I approached the model and introduced myself. She had been modeling on and off for the magazine for several years, but we’d actually never met before. After telling her I’d be helping Brandon with positioning, I led her over to a prepared backdrop, and set about putting her into a standard side-angled position that trimmed the waist and elongated the neck to take care of any skin that might hang a little too loosely in a woman who wasn’t a professional model. Then, I asked Rosalia about her modeling, how she got started, how she connected with the magazine, and anything else I could think to ask.
“Mr. Gabriel, we’re ready to start,” Reagan said after several failed attempts to get my attention without using any sort of direct address.
I continued to ignore her until Rosalia said, “Um, I think Brandon is ready.”
Grinning, but keeping myself facing away from Reagan, I said, “Yeah, I know. Play along though, okay?”
When she leaned around me and gave Brandon a questioning look, he waited until Reagan looked away and gave her a thumbs up. Rosalia only shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“Great. I’ll get out of your way for now, but if you can think of a way to get my girlfriend to call me by my first name in front of everyone, just run with it.”
“What?” Rosalia asked.
“We’ve got a running bet going on,” I said, bending the situation a little. “I’d appreciate your help winning.”
Finally, she seemed to get it and laughed. “If you say so.”
Without giving any sort of concession to Reagan, I stepped out of the way to let Brandon get the shots he needed. I was determined to break through Reagan’s stubbornness, but there was another shoot scheduled for after lunch and I didn’t want to completely impede the work that needed to be done.
When it came time for a positioning change, Brandon stepped back from his camera and said, “Donovan, drag the stool over to the set, sitting, legs crossed, hands in lap.”
I knew he was enjoying ordering me around, but I’d let him have that win if it got me mine. After setting the adjustable stool in the center of the backdrop, I took my time leading Rosalia to her seat and carefully positioning her. Every time I adjusted her position, she’d ask, “Like this, Donovan?” or “Right here, Donovan?” as though she needed my help with every movement.
Given that Reagan knew this particular model fairly well, she wasn’t fooled and simply rolled her eyes. Until around the fifth position change when she had to ask me half a dozen times to get off the set before I finished my conversation with Rosalia about growing up on the West Coast. She looked ready to throw her clipboard at me by then, but settled for smacking my arm when I walked by. I grinned and whispered, “Just say my name and I’ll get out of your hair.”
She stalked to the other side of the studio and refused to look at me.
The half reclining pose is a difficult one to work with, particularly when the model has a bare midriff. Even a toned stomach tended to fold inward if the angle wasn’t right. I’d partially forgotten my goal as I tried to get Rosalia just right for Brandon. The chair we were using made it difficult for her to hold herself at the right position so her stomach remained flat while still looking relaxed. I had one hand on her abdomen and one gripping her hip to turn her slightly when Reagan finally lost it.
“Donovan, so help me God, if you don’t get your hands off her and get out of the shot, you will be spending the rest of the week a very lonely man. You are driving me insane!”
“Go, I’ve got this,” Rosalia said, and immediately moved into the perfect position. I laughed, realizing she had been playing me as well. Nodding my thanks, I stood and turned to face Reagan.
Red-faced, I couldn’t tell if she was more angry or embarrassed, but I was absolutely positive she was jealous. She stood by the door to the studio, glaring at me and probably hoping I’d burst into flames. Long strides ate the distance between us, only slowing so I could mumble to Brandon that we were taking a long lunch.
“It’s gonna take a really long lunch to make up for this,” he said under his breath.
I was up for the challenge.
When I approached Reagan, her mouth popped open to snap at me again, but I grabbed her wrist and yanked her out the door with me before she could get a word out. We got a few curious looks as I towed her down the hall, which only made her face redder, but she didn’t dare say or do anything to embarrass herself until the door of the elevator closed.
“You are in so much troub—”
The rest of her words were muffled as I crushed my mouth against hers and we stumbled up against the elevator wall. “Say it again,” I demanded before moving my mouth to her neck.
“No,” she said, her gasp of pleasure stealing the sharpness from the single word.
I abandoned her neck and pinned her against the wall, my mouth hovering above hers. “Say my name, out loud.”
“You’re such an asshole,” she said. Heaving in a breath as she closed her eyes, she betrayed her words with a stifled moan.
“I told you I could be.” I kissed her again, catching her bottom lip between my teeth and biting just hard enough to make her whimper with desire. “Say it, Reagan.”
Pressing her han
ds against the wall of the elevator to keep them away from me, she shook her head.
“Please,” I said, switching gears as I saw the fear she held in her stiff posture. “You have no idea how much I loved hearing my name on your lips. Please.”
Her whole body shivered, either in response to my words or the warmth of my breath pulsing against her neck. “Donovan,” she whispered, almost as though she were afraid to utter it.
“Say it again.”
“Donovan.” Her voice was calmer, more sure. She opened her eyes and met my gaze. “Donovan.”
I kissed her hard, cupping her ass and pulling her against my erection. “I want you, Reagan. Right now,” I growled, knowing we were already pushing our luck of not being interrupted, and wanting to say to hell with it.
“Your place?” Reagan whispered as she tried to catch her breath while still pinned between my body and the elevator.
“We’ll be lucky if we make it to my car,” I mumbled against her neck, unable to resist the call of her skin.
Suddenly, Reagan pushed me away. “Lobby,” she whispered as she tried to fix a button that had pulled open on her blouse. The hint of lace that flashed as she pulled the fabric together did nothing to make the bulge in my pants less noticeable. When the doors slid open, I moved behind Reagan and nudged her to lead the way. Red spread through her cheeks as she realized why and quickly moved across the lobby.
Even though my SUV was only a few dozen feet from the lobby stairwell, when we reached it, I opened the rear passenger door and said, “Get in.”
Her eyes widened, but she stepped up into the vehicle and slid over to make room for me without saying a word. The only questioning she did was to look at the windows, relieved by how dark of a tint they had. When I closed the door, her gaze snapped over to me and her breathing jumped up several notches. I thought she would question me, try to talk me out of it. Instead, she reached for my belt buckle and was freeing my aching cock a few seconds later.
I groaned at the feel of her hands on me and lost focus on what I’d been doing. Reagan took over, using her free hand to help me get her slacks down over her hips. As soon as they were, I was in control again. She bit back a moan as I thrust into her and stopped, buried balls deep in her heat and shuddering at the effect she had on me.
“Donovan, please,” she urged, needing more.
Her request undid me. I wasn’t gentle. I wasn’t slow. She didn’t want either. Fast and hard, I thrust into her as much as she met me with her own need. As her orgasm rose, she had to press her hand against her mouth while I clenched my teeth to keep from attracting attention. I felt her body stiffen beneath me, saw her eyes roll back and her lips part, and increased my pace. Her orgasm milked mine and we came in a moment of shared frenzy.
With no room to go anywhere else, I collapsed on top of her, holding myself up as best I could with depleted strength.
“This,” Reagan said between heaving breaths, “is why I didn’t want to call you Donovan at work.”
I would have laughed if I could have caught my breath. “Do you see me complaining?” I asked.
***
I didn’t think I had ever been more nervous in my entire life. Not even for job interviews or first days of school or a new job. It felt as though my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I stood in front of Donovan’s apartment door for a good five minutes before getting up the courage to knock. The hem of my dress quivered, my nerves were so bad.
I hadn’t seen him since parting ways after work the previous night. He’d invited me to come over, meet his parents when they got to his apartment, where they were staying for the week. I quickly declined. Meeting them after a long day, not looking my best, was not even close to my idea of a potential good first impression.
Jumping when the doorknob turned, I panicked at the possibility that it wouldn’t be Donovan who answered the door. A million different scenarios were running through my head when he was suddenly in front of me. The smile immediately left his face and he stepped out into the hall with me. His hands were wrapped around mine a second later, and his expression grew even more worried.
“You’re shaking.” He frowned and pulled me into a hug. “Reagan, if you’re worried about them thinking you’re after something with me, they know I’m the one who’s been pursuing you to the point of making you crazy.”
“I know,” I said, “but what if they just don’t like me?”
He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “Why wouldn’t they? You’re amazing.”
“But…”
He didn’t give me a chance to argue before pushing open the door and dragging me into his apartment. “Reagan’s here,” he announced.
A salt-and-pepper head of hair visible above the back of the couch turned to reveal a smiling older gentleman. My view of him was quickly obstructed by a graying woman in her late fifties who seemed to have a permanent smile on her face, judging by how her wrinkles matched the expression.
“Mom,” Donovan warned as she rushed over to me.
She ignored him and grabbed my free hand, pumping it excitedly. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Reagan. I was beginning to think Donny was never going to ask you out and we’d be in the grave before the possibility of grandchildren even entered the picture.”
“Mom,” Donovan said, sounded every bit the embarrassed little boy I was sure he’d spent way too much time being when it came to his mother.
I was too freaked out to react or say anything coherent.
“Dorothy,” her husband chided, “you’re going to kick yourself if you scare her off after all the complaining you did about Donny not asking her out sooner.” He nudged his wife aside and extended his hand casually. “It’s nice to meet you, Reagan. I’m Donny’s father. Please call me Nathan, and my wife Dorothy. We’re very informal.”
“That seems to be a family thing,” I said as I shook his hand
“Of sorts,” Donovan mumbled next to me. Clearing his throat, he focused on his parents. “Are we ready to go, or would you like to try and embarrass me a few more times, first?”
His mother laughed and waved off his complaint. “Let’s head down to the car. Come on. Donny, you drive. Reagan and I can sit in the back so your father will have enough leg room.”
My hand tightened around Donovan’s. He sighed. “Mom, Reagan can ride wherever she wants. We’ll take the SUV so Dad has plenty of legroom regardless of where he sits.”
“I’ll be fine,” his father said as he guided Dorothy toward the apartment door.
By the time we reached the SUV, I’d heard every last detail of their flight from Nebraska, adventure trying to find their luggage in the baggage claim, and exasperation at the traffic in the city that made the ride to their son’s apartment twice as long as it should have been.
“I offered to pick you up at the airport,” Donovan said with a shake of his head. He pulled out onto the street, his mother ignoring his comment completely.
The ride to the restaurant went pretty much the same. Thankfully, it was fairly short. Dorothy gushed over his choice when we arrived, while Nathan simply nodded his appreciation.
“Donny always picks such nice places to eat when we visit,” Dorothy said.
“He has good taste,” I agreed.
His hand squeezed mine, whether in thanks or reassurance I wasn’t entirely sure. I didn’t care, so long as he didn’t let go of me and make me face his mother alone. My experience with mothers, in general, was limited. Mothers with big personalities and a million questions, even less.
“Mr. Gabriel, your table is ready,” the host said a few minutes later. We followed with little conversation as the three of us who hadn’t been there before appreciated the beautiful chandeliers and elegant white furniture that seemed absolutely perfect for brunch.
When we arrived at the table, I smiled as I realized where Donovan’s good manners came from. While he was getting my chair, Nathan was pulling out his wife’s as well, and very happy to do i
t. As soon as we were settled and our drinks orders were taken, the moment of peace and quiet ended.
“So, Reagan, where are your parents?” Dorothy asked. “Do they live in the city as well?”
The part of the morning I’d dreaded the most had arrived. The personal questions. Swallowing my nerves as best I could, I said, “My dad lives about an hour south of here in a small town called Glenwood.”
“How lovely to be so close and not have a child who simply had to move half the country away.” She threw her son a baleful look that was quickly followed up by a smile. “And what about your mother?”
I pressed my lips together and I took a deep breath. Donovan’s hand slid onto my thigh and squeezed. For once, it wasn’t even remotely sexual. “My mom, she’s, I’m not sure. I’ve never actually met her.”
For a moment, Dorothy looked confused as to what I meant. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay,” I said, though I wanted to ignore the entire topic. “She showed up at my dad’s house the day they released her from the hospital after giving birth to me, and left me there with him. That was the first he’d even known about me, but he took me in and did a pretty good job raising me.”
Surprise mellowed into a sweet smile. “Yes,” Dorothy said, “he most certainly did. I can imagine he’s very proud of you.”
That drew a smile from me, which was quite the feat given how nervous I still was. “He is, but I’m pretty proud of him too.”
Either my uncomfortable story or a look I suspected Donovan threw at her when I wasn’t looking, put an end to those types of questions. The focus turned to our jobs, Donovan’s childhood, and our plans for the summer. That part of the conversation got a little vague, as we hadn’t actually attempted to discuss or make any plan further than the upcoming week, but the more we talked about normal things, the more I relaxed. Eventually, Donovan’s touch became less testing to make sure I wasn’t going to bolt and more because he seemed incapable of not touching me.
As we were leaving the restaurant and Dorothy asked if I wanted to join them at the botanic gardens, I didn’t have a problem saying yes. Donovan let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist. I leaned into his embrace, partly out of exhaustion, but mostly from relief. Everyone was happy to let Dorothy carry the conversation as Donovan played chauffer again and drove across town to his mother’s favorite attraction.
No Going Back Page 19