Page 32 of Panty Dropper

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.

I was absolutely mesmerized by this woman.

The first time I’d laid eyes on her, she was sitting at the head of the conference table and I’d been stunned by how drop dead gorgeous she was. The next time I saw her, when she’d walked into the bar, I was rendered speechless by her effortless grace and allure. And now, sitting at my kitchen table, she stole my breath away with the undeniable natural beauty and raw vulnerability she possessed. I was starting to think she was my kryptonite.

Unable to stop myself from touching her, I brushed a stray strand of hair off of her cheek, and the pad of my thumb ran along her jawline. Her skin was silky smooth. She shuddered beneath my touch.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

Her eyes dipped and I dropped my hand to my side before lowering down in the chair catty-corner to her. I chose that one instead of the one across from her because I wanted to be as close as possible to her. She had a magnetic aura about her that every fiber of my being was drawn to.

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