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Reagan gripped her thighs harder to keep from flipping her over and ripping o her dress. All their months together had felt like foreplay, and her resolve to honor her wishes was already weakening.

Libby continued grinding against her, undeterred by Reagan’s pained silence. “I don’t know what it is. You wake up something inside me I had no idea was there. I think about you like this all the time.”

“You’re killing me,” Reagan confessed to the massive air ducts in the ceiling above her when Libby’s mouth slipped down her jaw and over her throat.

When Libby pressed her body into her so she could feel her chest against her as she slid down her body, Reagan cursed before gripping her hips hard. Imagining the thin material of Libby’s underwear was as wet as hers as she guided her down and hard against her trouser zipper, Reagan bit her bottom lip to keep from cursing again.

At the sudden pressure, Libby gasped and pressed down harder as she rocked her hips with a new frantic pace. With her hands on Reagan’s shoulders, Libby threw her

head back and moaned.

Forgetting the layers of fabric that separated them, Reagan’s body shuddered as she imagined the sensation of being inside her. If they continued this game for another few minutes, she wouldn’t be able to pull herself back from the edge.

“Are you really going to make me be the one who stops this when I really don’t want to?” Reagan managed between

the intense moments of pulsating desire obscuring her brain function.

Her words were a lasso plucking the floating Libby out of the air and forcing her back to reality. She landed next to her in a slightly intoxicated, sweaty heap.

“Maybe we can count all those other dates we went on,”

Libby said before pulling Reagan on top of her. “And all the times you came to my house when I was sick. That was after the kiss.”

As soon as Reagan’s thigh slipped between her parted legs, she closed her eyes and rolled o the bed. “No,” she said, immediately regretting her nobility. “You’ve got rules and their good rules, right?”

Libby looked up at her with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

Her parted thighs o ering a view of smooth skin and delicious possibility.

“Come on,” Reagan insisted with her hand outstretched.

“Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll get you something comfortable to sleep in.”

Begrudgingly, they each took turns washing the night and a painful amount of pent-up desire down the drain. By the time Reagan had used the rest of the hot water, Libby was passed out on her bed wearing blue Hialeah High School basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She’d picked them because old gym shorts and a free t-shirt from a Miami Heat game were the least sexy things Reagan owned, but on Libby their e ect was as devastating as lingerie.

Reagan turned out the light as soon as she could, hoping it would be out of sight, out of mind, but as she slipped in behind Libby and held her warm body against hers, it was her heart she couldn’t control.

I should’ve had a hell of a lot more champagne, Reagan decided as she listened to Libby’s heavy breathing with vexatious envy.

C H A P T E R 2 9

WHEN THE LIGHT streaming in from the impossible to reach windows at the top of the industrial building urged Reagan awake, she turned over and covered her head with her pillow.

Normally she loved waking up with the first light, but she was too tired for sunrise today.

As she tossed and turned trying to fight her way back to sweet unconsciousness, she remembered that she wasn’t alone. Reaching out across the bed, she was surprised to find it cold and empty.

Popping up like a gopher out of a hole, Reagan sent her pillow tumbling to the floor.

Did she leave?

Reagan glanced around the room for evidence of her presence. Once she spotted the dress hanging on her clothes bar, she relaxed.

She wouldn’t leave without it, right?

In nothing but a muscle shirt and long boyshorts, Reagan crept down the stairs to find Libby snapping pictures of her students’ work littered all over the studio and making notes.

“What are you doing?” Reagan asked as she approached, still rubbing the sleep out of her tired eyes.