Undone

by Rebecca Shea

  Matt navigates the Wilmington streets just like he does when on patrol, with ease. He knows every short cut and every back road. There is no need for a navigation system when you have Matt Kennedy behind the wheel.

  “Holy shit! This is where she lives?” Lindsay exclaims as we pull into Reagan’s upscale condominium complex. “I bet these cost a small fortune,” she says, looking out the window at the large townhouse-style condos.

  “Her place is nice. I’m sure she’d love for you to see it—another time,” I emphasize. “I’ll be right back.” I jump out of the SUV and jog up the small sidewalk to the front door. Reagan greets me at the front door, shutting the door and locking it as I approach.

  “You look amazing… and tall.” I admire her. She’s wearing a short black dress that make her long legs carry on for miles with wedged sandals that put her at almost my height.

  “Thank you.” She tugs at the hem of her dress, trying to cover her thighs. Lacing her fingers through mine, I walk her to Matt’s car and open the door, helping her up into the back seat. Reassuming my seat in the back next to her, Matt heads towards Mac’s as Lindsay and Reagan make small talk.

  I can’t take my eyes off of her long legs. My eyes burn a trail from her upper thigh down to her ankle and back up again. She pinches me when she catches me looking at her legs, and she rests her hand on my leg, just above my knee. The drive to Mac’s is short, but every minute it takes us to get there is a minute that I want to turn around and be alone with her. As we pull into the crowded parking lot, Reagan’s eyes light up when she sees all the cars.

  “Mac is holding a table for us,” she says, grabbing her small purse. “The band is really good tonight, so I knew it would be busy.” She opens the car door and slides down onto the concrete below. Reagan takes the lead, guiding us to the front door, while Lindsay and Matt follow behind us.

  Entering the bar, we’re instantly greeted by Sam, who pulls Reagan into a hug and presses a kiss to her cheek. I don’t like it at all, so I move closer to her, hoping that Sam sees that she’s here with me. The music is loud, so I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I see her nod, then lean over to whisper something into Lindsay’s ear. Lindsay grabs Reagan’s hand and drags them through the crowd to a round table tucked away in a darkened corner.

  “Hope this table is okay. I wanted to be out of the way.” Reagan smiles as she sets her purse on the table.

  “It’s perfect,” Lindsay says, sliding into one of the chairs. Matt sits next to Lindsay and I sit on the other side of Reagan. The two girls are whispering to each other and Matt looks at me, shaking his head. Sam shows up with a pitcher of beer and two mugs, just as another waiter slides two pink drinks on the table and walks away.

  “Beer for you two,” he says, looking at Matt and me, “and vodka cranberry for the ladies, and I hear congratulations are in order.” He reaches out to shake my hand.

  “Thanks.” I accept his handshake. I still don’t want him kissing Reagan on the cheek, but I’ll be civil, for now.

  “Drinks are on the house tonight, Mac’s orders. Enjoy yourselves and let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Sam,” the girls say in unison and start laughing.

  Lindsay raises her glass. “Let’s toast! To new beginnings.” She smiles, looking between Reagan and me. “Oh, and new jobs too.” Reagan blushes, but raises her glass.

  “To everything Linds just said,” Matt echoes, raising his glass. We all toast and set our drinks on the table. Lindsay leans in and whispers something to Matt, and they both stand up and walk to the dance floor.

  “Want to dance?” I ask Reagan as she twirls her straw in her drink, hoping she says no.

  “Yes, but not yet. Maybe in a little bit.”

  Feeling like she’s too far away, I pull her chair closer to me. I immediately feel better as her leg brushes against mine, and I can drink in the smell of her sweet perfume.

  “How was the rest of your day?” I ask, curious as to what she did after I left her house.

  “It was good. Finished cleaning, took Ollie to the beach for a quick run, then back to Gemma’s. Oh, and I went and got my nails done.” She wiggles her fingers in front of my face. Reaching out, I take her hand and study her fingers. They are long and dainty—just like the rest of her. I press a kiss to her palm and lace her fingers though mine.

  She leans in and presses a light kiss on my lips, and I’m thankful that we’re tucked away in this dimly lit corner.

  “If we weren’t celebrating your promotion, I’d rather be at home with you,” she says, her voice low and seductive. The hair on my arms raises as her warm breath touches my ear.

  “Let’s go.” I reach for her hand and stand up.

  “Go where?” Lindsay asks, sliding four shot glasses on the table. “Sit your ass back down; no one is going anywhere. We just got here and there is some partying to do.” She winks at Reagan.

  “What the hell are those?” I ask, looking at the large shot glasses rimmed with either sugar or salt.

  “Hell if I know.” Matt shrugs. “All I know is that they’re pink.”

  “Raspberry Kamikazes,” Lindsay says, passing out the shot glasses.

  “No shots for me; I’m driving,” Matt informs her and shoves the shot glass back at Lindsay. “Drink up, buttercup.” He smiles at her.

  “Did you just call her ‘buttercup’?” I ask. Lindsay just shrugs and giggles before lifting the shot glass to her mouth.

  Lindsay, Reagan, and I take our shot and Lindsay looks at Reagan. “These are going to be dangerous—they’re delicious.” She takes the shot Matt left on the table and downs it.

  “Take it easy tonight, Linds. We’d like to make it past eleven o’clock,” Matt teases her.

  “I’d like to leave now,” I whisper in Reagan’s ear as she rests her hand on my thigh, giving it a little squeeze. She moves her hand a little higher to my upper thigh, and I can’t help but put my hand on top of hers to stop her.

  “What would we do if we left right now?” she asks quietly, her breath warm and fruity from the shot.

  “Use your imagination, Doc. You’re a smart girl.” I wink as I tip back the tall glass of beer and finish it. There is no way I will last another thirty minutes in this bar with her, sitting this close, touching me and kissing me.

  “Let’s all dance,” Lindsay squeals, pulling poor Matt from his chair. “C’mon guys,” she says to Reagan and me.

  “Dance with me, Champ,” Reagan murmurs in my ear as she tugs at my hand, pulling me off the tall barstool. Weaving through the mass of people standing alongside the dance floor, she wraps her arms around my neck, pressing herself against me. Her skin is soft and warm, and there is too much of it showing for a place like this.

  I can feel the curve of her breasts and hips and I want nothing more than to run my hands up and down her perfect body. Resting her head on my shoulder, I can feel her press her lips against my neck, lightly sucking and nipping.

  “Reagan,” I warn her. “Don’t fucking start something that I won’t be able to stop.”

  “Oooohhhhh.” She giggles.

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I,” she whispers as she pulls at the hair at the nape of my neck. I’m fucking hard as a rock as I think about pulling her from this crowded bar and taking her home to make love to her for hours.

  “Mind if I cut in?” Sam stands, waiting for me to hand over my girl. That isn’t happening tonight—or ever.

  “Not right now, man. She’s mine tonight.” He shakes his head and laughs, but doesn’t argue as he backs away.

  “What was that about?” Lindsay asks as she and Matt dance up next to us.

  “Sam wanted to dance with Reagan, I said no. End of story.” Reagan drops her forehead to my chest and laughs at me.

  “You know you have nothing to worry about with Sam, right?”

  “I wasn’t worried, sweetheart.”

  “Yeah, right,” she scoffs. “You know he’s gay
.”

  “He. Is. Gay?” Lindsay bellows. “Why? Why are the good ones gay?” Matt narrows his eyes at her and his body stiffens. “What?” she says as Matt drags her off the dance floor and back to the table.

  “I’ve known Sam since I was seventeen. He’s the only other person who knows about Hailey,” she says quietly. “He grew up down the road from Mac and Gemma and has kind of been the son they never had. He’s going to buy this bar from Mac when Mac’s ready to let it go.” We step from side to side slowly to the music. “Mac has cancer.”

  “What?” I say, shocked to hear this news.

  “He was diagnosed this spring. It’s in his pancreas. Sam is fully prepared to purchase the bar, but Mac isn’t ready to let it go yet.” She shrugs.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Mac.”

  “So am I,” she responds. The songs ends, but I don’t let her go. I hate dancing, but I could stand here and hold her forever. The band is taking a break and everyone clears the dance floor except for us. When I unwrap my arms from around her, she stops me.

  “Kiss me,” she quietly demands, her blue eyes sparkling in the bar lights.

  “Gladly.” I press my needy lips to hers. She breaks the kiss with a laugh when the catcalls and whistles get louder and she gives a little curtsy as she walks back to the table. Sam meets us with another four shots, and Matt shakes his head and points at my sister.

  “What? We’re enjoying ourselves.” She rolls her eyes and slides a shot over to Reagan.

  “Last one,” Reagan says, holding up the shot. She wets her lips before taking the little glass, tipping it back and emptying it. Lindsay takes another shot, and then another, leaving the last one for me. Fixing my eyes on hers, I lift the shot glass and dump the contents down my throat. There is a gentle burn, but the aftertaste is sweet.

  “So what’s the deal with you guys, anyway?” Lindsay asks, giggling as she takes a seat. She hooks her arm through Matt’s, I presume to balance herself, but Matt seems unfazed.

  “What do you mean?” Reagan questions her.

  “Are you guys dating? Are you a couple? More importantly, inquiring minds want to know, are you screwing?”

  “Jesus, Lindsay,” I bark.

  “Right there. See. He’s cranky. You’re clearly not having sex yet.” She waves her hand in the direction of us. “In fact, I bet Reagan has seen more pussy in the last week than you have.”

  Matt elbows Lindsay, while Reagan spits her drink across the table. She’s laughing. She fucking thought that was funny.

  “That. Was. Awesome.” She high fives Lindsay and the two of them laugh. Matt drops his head and I can tell he’s doing his best not to laugh either, and she’s right. I’ve not thought about another woman since I met Reagan.

  “I’m glad you find this amusing, girls.” I slide into my seat next to Reagan. I place my hand on her thigh at the hem of her dress, and slowly slide it under. The girls continue giggling, but Reagan stops, her back straightening when she feels my hand travel higher.

  “Ahem,” she clears her throat.

  “What’s wrong, Doc? You suddenly seem so quiet,” I smirk. My hand snakes up her leg higher as I let it fall between her thighs. Pushing herself away from the table, she quickly stands up and my hand falls to my side. She winks at me as she squeezes behind me to free herself from the table.

  “I’ll be right back,” she says as she walks away. I see her greeting people, most likely regulars here at Mac’s, as she heads toward the bar. Her long hair in perfect waves falls down the middle of her back and, in those shoes, her long, lean legs are perfection. I want every inch of those legs wrapped around me.

  Our eyes meet as she saunters back to the table, holding four glasses of water. “Thought everyone could use some ice water,” she says, handing out the glasses. Lindsay hiccups, but pulls the small straw into her mouth and empties her glass.

  “Here, drink some more.” Matt hands his glass of water to Lindsay.

  “It’s hot in here,” she complains and drinks the water Matt just gave her.

  Reagan eyes the growing crowd and turns to me. “I’ve never seen it this packed. Maybe we should go before the band starts again.”

  Matt nods in agreement and Lindsay rolls her eyes. “I’m fine, you guys!” she says, linking her arms through Reagan’s. They waddle through the packed bar in their high heels, arm in arm, brunette and blonde. Matt and I a few steps behind them.

  “Hey, I’ll make sure Lindsay gets home safely, if you were planning to stay at Reagan’s,” he smirks.

  “Yeah, thanks, man. I’d really appreciate that. But let’s not assume she wants me there.” I smack his back.

  “Looking at you two tonight, I don’t think that’s going to be the issue.” He laughs as we both wave goodbye to Sam and Mac from across the bar.

  The ride to Reagan’s house is fast, but not fast enough for me to keep my hands off of her. I run my fingers through the back of her long hair as we listen to Lindsay giggle and try to tell jokes, but she keeps giving away the punch line. When we pull up to Reagan’s house, I open the door and let Reagan slide out. She walks around to the passenger side of the car and leans in Lindsay’s window. They’re whispering and giggling again, like two twelve-year-old girls.

  Meeting Reagan, I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and lean in and press a kiss to Lindsay’s cheek. “Behave, and don’t give him too much trouble,” I tell her and nod to Matt.

  “I like trouble, though,” she says sarcastically.

  “Behave.”

  “I should be telling you to behave.” She winks at me while Reagan laughs. Finding my hand, Reagan tugs at me and pulls me towards the front door. The porch light illuminates the small patio as she fumbles with getting her key into the lock.

  “Here, let me do it,” I offer, reaching for the keys.

  “I can do it.” She nudges me out of the way, finally turning the lock and pushing the door open. The house is dark except for a small overhead light that is above her kitchen sink. It provides just enough light to see the kitchen and into the attached living room.

  “Help me,” she grunts as she hops on one foot, trying to unbuckle her shoe. I steady her, then kneel to unbuckle both of her shoes.

  “It feels so good to be out of those damn shoes. I hate them,” she whines, wiggling her toes. I run my hands up her calves, behind her knees, and up the outside of her thighs. I hear her gasp as I move higher, palming her ass.

  Placing her hands in my hair, she tugs gently, getting my attention. “Come on,” she urges me to stand up. Walking down the hallway to her room, she moves gracefully and full of confidence. I follow her, knowing that every rule I’ve put in place, every concrete wall I’ve built, will crumble with just one taste of her.

  I stand in the doorway to her room, watching her. She pulls the earrings from her ears and her bracelet from her wrist, setting them on her nightstand. She reaches behind her and unzips the black dress she’s wearing and it slowly falls from each shoulder, eventually sliding off of her completely, pooling at her feet.

  She stands before me in nothing but a pair of black lace thong panties and a barely there black lace bra. The sight of her is breathtaking. “Can you unclasp me?” She turns around and lifts her hair. In a matter of steps, I’m standing next to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I reach for the clasp of her necklace and unhook it, setting it on the nightstand next to the earrings and bracelet.

  “One more,” she whispers, her back still to me. She drops her hair, but pulls it forward over one shoulder. Glancing over her shoulder at me, she smiles as I rest my palms on her shoulders. I slide them down her upper back, feeling her soft skin just beneath them. I reach the clasp of her bra and unhook it as she pulls the straps off of each shoulder.

  I inhale fast and deep at the sight of her standing in nothing but a little black thong. The curve of her hips, her ass, and the sight of her pale skin against the little piece of black fabric has my body coursing with n
eed.

  “So fucking beautiful,” I say, running my hand from the back of her neck, trailing all the way down her spine down to the small of her back. Her head falls forward at my touch and I press my chest against her back. I wrap my fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her head back.

  “Don’t move,” I say, releasing her hair. Her arms fall to her side and she stands still. I pull off my shirt and unbutton my pants, leaving them on.

  “Where is your robe?”

  “Hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Why?”

  “Don’t move.”

  “If you want me to put my clothes back on, just tell me.”

  “Reagan. Be quiet.”

  I find her robe hanging on the back of the door just as she said. I pull the long satin belt from the two loops in each side of the robe and find her standing exactly where I left her.

  “Good girl. Don’t move,” I whisper. Standing behind her, I press my erection against her backside. “See what you do to me, Reagan.” She swallows hard and nods her head. “Walk to the bed.” I nudge her and she moves slowly. “To the middle and lie down on your back.” She follows my directions and takes her place in the center of the bed.

  “Put both hands in front of you and clasp them together.” Her fingers are trembling, but she does exactly as she’s told. I take the soft belt and wrap it around her wrists, weaving it around and in between, leaving the ends dangling. She watches me intently, and wiggles her wrists. She can’t get out, yet I don’t want this to hurt her.

  “You okay?” I ask in a hushed tone.

  “Yes,” she whispers and her voice cracks. Pulling her hands above her head, I tie the loose ends to one of the slats on her bed, securing her arms. I run my thumb across her lip, and she instinctively licks it, pulling it into her mouth, causing my erection to become harder. I run my hand across her cheek, down her neck, finding the curve of her bare breasts. Spending my time on each one, I move between her breasts and down to the edge of her panties.

  I run my finger just under the edge, across her stomach, teasing her. I leave them on, for now, and run my finger under the edge just inside her thigh. This time, I move to her center and brush against her opening. She’s wet, as I knew she would be.