Panty Dropper

by Shawn, Melanie

  “I saw you makin’ eyes at her,” Ray called me out.

  His comment had every protective instinct I had shooting up like a spouting fire hydrant. Something about that girl made me want to shield her from…everything. I’d never had that impulse before and now it seemed I couldn’t shut it off. I didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about her, or thinking that she was just one more visitor in the revolving door of my social life.

  I began doing the dishes, hoping to mask what I was feeling. “She’s our lawyer. She’s handling Pop’s will.”

  “You don’t say?” Ray’s eyebrows lifted and I knew that he already had the information I’d just shared about Reagan. He shook his head as he let out a slow breath. “Beauty and brains. That’s a lethal combination. You add that quick wit of hers to the equation and she’s damn near the perfect woman.”

  I’d seen Ray dancing with Reagan earlier in the night. She must’ve made quite an impression on him. He didn’t comment on most people, because in his words, “If I ain’t got nothin’ nice to say, it’s best I don’t say nothin’ at all.” So, for him to speak so highly of her said something.

  I’d also seen her dancing with Mark Lyons, who’d been the captain of the football team my freshman year and his senior. And Jerry Clemons, who’d been a second-round draft pick and played one year in the NFL before flunking one too many drug tests and coming back home to Firefly.

  Both men had laid it on thick and brought their ‘A’ game. Mark had flashed his dimples so much his cheeks had to be sore. And Jerry, who’d won every breakdancing contest we’d had in middle school, had spun and dipped her so many times I was surprised she didn’t toss her cookies right there on the dance floor. Thankfully, she hadn’t seemed to return their interest. From what I’d been able to see they’d both struck out.

  That didn’t make it any easier for me to watch their time at the plate. It had taken every fiber of self-control I possessed not to stalk over to them and pull her out of their arms.

  The last time I’d had a visit from the green-eyed monster was my senior year Homecoming game. I was voted to Homecoming court and I’d watched as the other six princes’ mamas came onto the field and pinned a flower onto their sons’ lapels. My flower was pinned on by Mrs. Lambert, the vice-principal.

  Don’t get me wrong, I loved and still love Mrs. Lambert. We developed a close relationship thanks to the amount of times I’d been sent to her office. But she wasn’t my mama.

  I’d been so jealous that my friends all had their moms and I didn’t, it ruined the whole entire senior year for me. After I graduated, I decided I wasn’t going to waste any time feeling mad, or sad, or jealous. I didn’t want to spend a second more of my life letting negative feelings, things that served no purpose, affect me.

  It’d made sense at the time, but I was starting to see that I’d ended up not feeling anything at all. I’d spent a good portion of my life feeling nothing. I was numb.

  That is, until I’d walked into a conference room and laid eyes on Reagan. Now I couldn’t seem to stop feeling things. And I didn’t know how I felt about that.

  CHAPTER 14

  Reagan

  “Kevin Bacon!” A bleached blonde in a tube top and jean skirt lifted her arms in excitement and I was worried that she might have a wardrobe malfunction. “Can you take our picture?”

  I stood and she handed me her phone, giving me specific instructions on the angle and filter she wanted me to use. It took several attempts before she was satisfied with the end result.

  After her came half a dozen other people asking me to do the same. I was more than happy for the distraction. If not for the steady stream of pig photo op seekers, I’d have been left alone to overthink all the poor decisions I was about to make. No one wanted that.

  By the end of the impromptu photo shoot, I actually appreciated the magnitude of the smooch Kevin had laid on me earlier in the night. Turns out, he really didn’t just hand those out to everyone.

  I’d just sat down next to Cheyenne when Billy appeared at the table. “Ready?”

  All I could do was nod. My throat had closed without warning, thinking about all of the things that mouth was gonna do to me tonight, and how that smooth-as-whiskey voice would sound as he growled my name against my ear while he was buried deep inside of me.

  Not that I knew any of that was going to happen, but I was beginning to see that a girl could dream. More specifically, this girl could dream.

  With ease, Billy scooped Cheyenne up as if she weighed nothing at all, which was not far from reality. She mumbled something but then rested her head on Billy’s chest.

  Unlike her brothers, she was tiny. She was also the only sibling to have blonde hair. Almost everyone that had stopped by the table to see Cheyenne had commented that she was the spitting image of her mom. I’d seen a picture of James Sr. and all three of the brothers looked like versions of him. But I had no idea what Sabrina Comfort had looked like. Or, how I was going to find out whether or not she’d had a trust. I’d done some preliminary research at the firm today, but had come up with zilch. My alcohol-laced brain was in no condition to plan my next step, but tomorrow I’d figure it out.

  Billy maneuvered easily through the crowded space. This was made easier because everyone parted like the Red Sea for him. I followed behind, clutching Cheyenne’s purse to my chest, holding onto it both literally and figuratively as my “reason” for leaving with Billy.

  Each person we passed said goodbye, some slapping him on his shoulder others waving from across the room. It felt like being with some sort of celebrity. A celebrity with broad shoulders, whose sculpted blades were visible through the thin cotton stretched across his back and an ass you could bounce a quarter, no, a half-dollar off of.

  He led the way down a hallway with offices on each side, then out a back door with a green neon exit sign above it. He stopped and held it open for me with his elbow. As I walked through, my heart dipped in a swoon. Him holding the door open for me, even though he was carrying his sister, may not mean anything to some. But it meant the world to me.

  Blaine had always been the perfect gentleman when the situation presented itself and there were people around. But when we were alone or if it inconvenienced him in any way, it was every man for himself—and yes, I was a man in that analogy.

  It hadn’t really bothered me because I prided myself on my independence. I didn’t need a man to take care of me. I am woman, hear me roar and all that. Before I was even old enough to have homework, I’d promised myself that I would never depend on a man thanks to the steady stream of losers that my mom had dated.

  But, I had to admit; a little bit of chivalry wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

  We walked across the gravel and dirt to a large, black Chevy truck parked under a large tree. I had to grin to myself. I’d been right about his mode of transportation.

  For whatever reason, thinking of him behind the wheel of this beast of a machine only served to up the arousal ante. I had no doubt that he would look sexy driving anything, even one of those tiny electric cars, but the image of him navigating this massive machine made my insides go all gooey.

  Billy opened the door and smoothly settled Cheyenne in the center of the bench. She mumbled something I couldn’t make out.

  “Is she okay?” I asked, craning my neck so that I could see past his impressive frame.

  “She’s gonna be in a world of hurt tomorrow.” He turned back around so he faced me. I still wasn’t used to the power of this man’s attention being directed solely on me and my knees weakened under his stare. “But she’ll be a’right.”

  We stood, our eyes locked in a stare with barely a foot of distance between us. My skin tingled and goose bumps rose on my bare arms as awareness settled over me that this was the first time we’d ever been alone. Well, technically Cheyenne was there, but she wasn’t in any condition to be a chaperone. I swallowed over a lump that had formed in my throat and my chest rose and fell in shallow breat
hs as the reality of what I was getting myself into sunk in.

  He shifted to the side and held out his hand to help me get into the truck. I stared at it for a moment. This would be the perfect time to give him his sister’s purse and leave. If I got in that truck, I knew where this night was going to end. Or at least, where I wanted this night to end.

  Could I really do it?

  Was I actually capable of being so reckless?

  “Havin’ second thoughts?” The rasp in his voice sent my goose bumps into overdrive as a shiver scurried down my spine and my decision was made. If just his voice could make me feel like this, what could his lips, hands and other parts do to me?

  “And third and fourth,” I admitted as I placed my hand in his and stepped up into the cab.

  The strength in his gentle grip sent a silver ball of arousal pinging through me like I was a pinball machine. It hit my chest, my belly, knees, my toes, before landing in the apex between my thighs causing my entire body to light up like I’d just got a perfect score.

  “Don’t forget to buckle up,” he instructed, adding with a wink, “Safety first.”

  He shut the door and my inner walls clenched as I pictured him sheathing himself with protection. I had no idea if he’d meant it as a subtle innuendo, but that’s how my body was taking it.

  My breaths were shallow as I reached behind me and tugged the seatbelt out and across my chest. As soon as I clicked it into place Cheyenne’s head fell onto my shoulder.

  It stayed there the entire drive back to Billy’s house. The cab of the truck was silent except for the radio playing the latest country hits. I didn’t know why he wasn’t talking, but I sure as hell knew why I wasn’t. I just couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

  This situation was so far out of my experience up to this point that I couldn’t work out the small talk etiquette for the pre-naked portion of a hookup evening. Especially when the sister of your hookup target happened to be sleeping right in between the two of you.

  I figured…better to just keep my mouth closed.

  We pulled up in front of a small, two-story beachfront cottage. Billy shut the engine off and said. “Wait here.”

  As I watched him walk up the front steps, I wondered if he was going to do what Laura Linney’s character Sarah had done in Love Actually when she cleans up her loft before Karl comes upstairs. He didn’t strike me as the type to be messy, but maybe he just wanted to get rid of the evidence of previous hookups.

  It turned out neither of my guesses were right. He just unlocked and opened the door before coming back to the truck and opening the passenger side door. Once again, he held out his hand. I took it and felt the same jolt of electricity that I felt every time he touched me. I tried not to show how affected I was as I stepped down out of the truck.

  Instead of focusing on how I was feeling, I turned my attention to my other senses. I listened to the waves crashing against the shore over my pounding heartbeat. I inhaled the fresh air and could taste the salt in it as my mouth watered in anticipation of his kiss.

  This wasn’t working. No matter how hard I tried to divert my attention, I couldn’t ignore the energy between us crackling with electricity.

  Billy carried Cheyenne into the house, and just like I had at the bar, I followed behind him, clutching her purse. As he got his sister settled on the couch, I couldn’t help but look around. His home was cozy, warm, and looked well lived in.

  A couch ran along one wall, facing a large flat screen that hung above a brick fireplace. There were throw pillows on the armchair, a plant in the corner, and a piece of art hanging on the far wall. The only thing that screamed “bachelor pad” was the black gaming chair that sat directly in front of the TV and the multiple gaming consoles on the shelves beside the fireplace.

  Besides that singular piece of furniture, it just looked like a home. A grown-up, adult home. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it. It’s not like I thought there’d be a sex swing or anything, but I’d figured it would be a little more…I don’t know…set up for seduction.

  As I looked around, my nerves were popping like kernels in an Orville Redenbacher bag that had been in the microwave for two minutes. What if I’d read things wrong? What if he’d had no intention of anything happening between us? What if I’d built this attraction that I’d felt between us up into something that it wasn’t?

  He hadn’t said anything that would make me think his intentions were anything other than honorable, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t want honorable. But I’d definitely gone as far as I could possibly go, short of spelling it out for him, and I knew there was no way that I could do that.

  I knew my limits, even if I had surprised myself by pushing the edges of some of them tonight. At this point, I’d taken all the steps I could on my walk on the wild side. There was no way I was going to do anything bolder than I’d already done, and he didn’t seem to be picking up what I was throwing down. The best thing to do was cut my losses. Get out of there before I embarrassed myself further.

  “Okay, well…” I whispered as I set Cheyenne’s purse beside the couch.

  Billy put his hand on my arm, and jolts shot up it like I’d just touched the doorknob after one hundred laps around a carpeted floor in wool socks. My eyes shot to his, and I immediately sensed the lust in them. Heat flowed through me from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers and right on down to my toes, and I realized what an idiot I’d been to ever think he wasn’t interested. There was interest behind those eyes, that was for sure. More than interest. Hunger.

  “Reagan, honey,” he rasped, his voice sounding like it was being dragged from him over the sharp edge of a knife, “How about some coffee?”

  Coffee? I would’ve preferred to have him throw me over his shoulder and carry me to his bed, but I guessed that coffee would work, too.

  CHAPTER 15

  Billy

  The coffee grounds whooshed into the bottom of the white filter as I tipped the scoop. I pushed the tray in and set the pot to brew while I did my best not to read too much into the feelings I was having about Reagan being in my home. It felt…right. It felt totally natural coming home with her, working together to get my sister settled and then coming to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

  And that was unnatural as hell.

  People might find it hard to believe, given my reputation and my nickname, but I rarely had women in my home. It’s not that it never happened, but I did my best to avoid it.

  My home was a sacred place to me. It was my domain. It was personal. Intimate. On the rare occasions that I did have female company, I tried to limit the time we spent here. No woman had ever spent the night in my bed. I prided myself on never leading someone on. The women I slept with knew what they were getting.

  No strings. No commitment. No overnights.

  And just like some clubs had a two drink minimum, I had a two fuck maximum. Anything more than that and the waters started getting murky.

  I stood, listening to the bubbling water as my pulse raced, fueled by anxiety that I haven’t felt since I was a freshman in high school and Lana Swanson, who was a senior and head cheerleader, asked me to the Sadie Hawkins dance. It was the one and only time I’d ever been nervous around the opposite sex. And it was the night I’d lost my virginity.

  It hit me then, why I felt like I was jumping out of my skin. The same rules I’d lived my entire life by didn’t apply to Reagan. Tonight, I was a virgin, of sorts.

  I wanted more with Reagan. I wanted murky. I wanted strings, commitments, and I sure as hell wanted overnights. It was damn unnerving.

  The cabinet creaked as I pulled it open and grabbed two mugs from the second shelf.

  With a quick glance over my shoulder I asked, “How do you like it?”

  The only light in the room came from the tiny bulb above the stovetop. I hadn’t flipped on the overhead light so as not to disturb Cheyenne, not that anything would’ve.

  But even in
the dimly lit atmosphere I could clearly see the blush that rose on Reagan’s cheeks and I would’ve bet my last dollar that her mind had turned my innocent question into one with sexual undertones. It was the same look she’d had when I’d said safety first. That one I’d meant as a double entendre, this one was accidental.

  “Um, sugar and cream if you got it.”

  I grinned. “Oh, I’ve got cream.” That one was intentional, too.

  Her face lit with a deeper pink hue and I knew she’d clearly understood the double meaning. Just knowing that was where her mind was going sent all sorts of signals to my brain that I tried to ignore. It didn’t work.

  When I turned back to the counter to pour her cup, my rock-hard shaft knocked against the drawer pull and I held in a moan. Reaching down I adjusted myself and became painfully aware of the zipper restraining my thickening cock.

  My body was not happy about me offering coffee instead of picking Reagan up, tossing her over my shoulder, and carrying her upstairs. That was the vibe I’d been getting from her, but I’d ignored it because I didn’t want her to jump into my bed due to loosened inhibitions caused by the three Jack and Cokes she’d downed at the bar.

  I knew she wasn’t drunk. But if we were going to do this tonight, I didn’t want it to be something she regretted in the morning. If we were going to do this, I wanted her stone cold sober.

  Hey, who said chivalry was dead? Unfortunately, I was being punished for my good deed by way of blue balls.

  I’d just finished sprinkling a teaspoon of sugar in Reagan’s cup and was taking it to her when a loud snore came from the front room.

  “She is out for the count.” Reagan’s wide smile beamed up at me as I handed her the mug of steaming java.

  My heart constricted as I gazed down at her. The dark outline that I’d seen around the rim of her lashes at the beginning of the night had worn off and the effect left her eyes looking larger and more inviting. The dark red lipstick that had been like a siren call to every man in the bar had faded, leaving a cranberry stain on her full, plump lips. And sometime during the night she’d pulled the hair that had framed her face when she’d come into the bar up in a loose pile on top of her head, exposing the seductive curve of her bare neck.