Capturing Peace

Chapter Six

Coen—­September 2, 2010

“THIS IS THE coolest, ever!” Parker yelled. “Coen’s the coolest, isn’t he, Mom?”

I glanced over at Reagan and she rolled her eyes at me. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool, buddy.”

“And this one comes off because I’m not old like you?”

I barked out a laugh and kept pressing the wet paper towel down on Parker’s arm. “That’s right, bud. It’ll come off in a few days.”

I held the paper towel there for a few more seconds before removing it, and then removed the hard back for the temporary tattoo and watched as Parker’s eyes lit up.

“Cool!”

I’m positive cool was his favorite word, and the extent of expressive words at that. But I had to steal his word. This kid was pretty damn cool.

“What do you think?” I held out his arm so Reagan could see, and even though she shot me a look, a smile crossed her face.

“Mom, isn’t it cool?”

“So cool, Parker.”

“I can’t wait to show Jason!” he said excitedly before tearing out of Reagan’s kitchen to go back to playing in the living room.

My lips slowly curved up into a smile as Reagan fought and lost with biting back her own smile, and I pulled her close. “You mad at me?”

She looked up at me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Mad? Are you kidding? I’m furious,” she whispered.

“You look it,” I murmured against her lips and she smiled against my kiss.

“That was really sweet of you,” she said when I pulled back. “He doesn’t even remember they’re called tattoos, but all he talks about are the stars on your arm. They’re the only ones he remembers. This was . . .” she floundered for something to say as she looked over at Parker. “This was fun for him. I already know he’s going to talk about that tattoo, and who gave it to him, until it washes off.” Looking back at me, she shrugged. “Thank you.”

“Not a big deal. He spent the whole night talking about it the other night, had to get one for him.”

Her hazel eyes held mine, and her lips tilted up on one side. “That’s just it. You didn’t have to.”

“Okay, I wanted to. Better?”

“Much.”

I leaned in, and had just barely brushed my lips against hers when we heard, “Ew, you’re kissing a girl?”

Reagan froze, and I held back a laugh as I turned my head to look at Parker. “Yeah, why, do you want me to kiss a boy?”

Parker made a face. “Gross! No! But girls have cooties!”

“Yeah? Says who?”

His mouth opened and his eyebrows pinched together for a few seconds before he sputtered, “Everyone.”

I unwrapped my arms from Reagan, and crouched down so I was his height. “Girls your age do have cooties,” I whispered loudly, and tried so hard not to smile when he nodded quickly. “But you know how I’m old so my stars don’t wash off?” Parker looked at his star, then my tattoos before nodding again. “Well, when you’re this old, girls don’t have cooties anymore. So they’re safe to kiss.”

Parker looked at me like he was trying to memorize every word I was saying. “How will I know when they’re safe?”

I glanced up at Reagan, and her face fell into a look of horror. “He’s six,” she mouthed.

“Just trust me on this, bud,” I said when I looked back at Parker. “You’ll know.”

“ ’Kay,” he replied, and looked up at Reagan. “It’s okay, Mom. You’re safe, you won’t give Coen cooties.”

My head dropped so he wouldn’t see how hard I was trying not to laugh, but I knew my shoulders were shaking from trying to hold it back.

“Thanks for that, buddy. Why don’t you go wash your hands so we can eat, all right?”

“Okay!”

I straightened, my body still shaking from the laughs I’d been trying so hard to quiet, and Reagan punched my shoulder as soon as I was upright.

“Seriously?”

“Hey! At least I told him the girls his age had cooties.”

A laugh bubbled past her lips before she could contain it, and then her stern expression was back. “But now what if he avoids women until he’s like thirty?”

“He won’t. Trust me, once puberty hits you’ll be wishing he would avoid them until he was thirty. At least I bought you a few years. I could’ve told him cooties didn’t exist and you’d have the principal calling you because he was kissing all the girls in his class next week. I know from experience.”

A sly grin crossed her face. “Coen Steele, did you terrorize all the girls by kissing them?”

I shrugged as I grabbed the food and started walking toward the table. “Someone had to do it. I took one for the team.”

“Ah, must have been such a hardship.”

“You have no idea.”

Reagan just smiled and shook her head as she leaned up to press her lips to my jaw. “And are you still terrorizing them all?”

“Just one,” I whispered.

“Good answer.”

REAGAN SHUT THE door leading to Parker’s bedroom, and smiled up at me as she easily fell into my arms where I stood leaning against the wall.

“He is out,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to my throat as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Tonight was fun for him.”

“It was fun for me too,” I said honestly.

After dinner, we’d watched a movie before playing a game for hours that I still didn’t understand . . . and I already wanted another night like the one we’d just had.

My fingers flexed against her hips when her mouth pressed firmly against mine, and a soft whimper sounded in her throat when our tongues brushed against each other. Moving my legs apart, I pulled her closer against me, and she arched her back so her chest pushed into mine for a few moments before moving back. Her hands slowly moved from my neck, across my chest and down my stomach before resting on the top of my jeans. The muscles in my abdomen twitched when her fingers moved under the shirt to brush against my skin.

I knew I needed to stop this. I’d told her I wanted to surprise her, and somehow we always found ourselves here . . . with me trying to find the will to be the voice of reason for us . . . for her. For her, I needed to stop this. I needed to show her I wanted so much more from her. But when she flattened one hand against my lower stomach, and the other curled around the top of my already low-­slung jeans, I forgot all the reasons why I’d stopped us before.

Pushing off the wall, I took the few steps until her back hit the opposite wall, and released her lips to make a trail down her throat. Pushing aside the collar of her shirt, I placed slow kisses across her collarbone as I pressed a hand to the small of her back, bringing her body closer to mine.

One of her hands went up to run over my short hair when I bit down gently on her neck, and she gasped softly before whispering, “I want to fall asleep to your voice tonight.”

I stilled and pressed a kiss to where I’d bitten her before moving back so I could look into her eyes. Cocking my head to the side, I pushed some of her hair behind her ear. “You do every night, why wouldn’t you tonight?”

“No, uh . . .” She put one hand to my chest, as if to push me away, and grabbed the ends of her hair with the other.

“What, Reagan, tell me.” Shit, I’d pushed her too far. “I’m sorry, I should’ve left as soon as you went to put—­”

“Coen, no.” She stopped me by pressing three fingers to my lips. Moving them away, she brushed her lips softly across mine, and when her eyelids slowly opened, they revealed a heat in her hazel eyes. “I want to fall asleep to your voice . . . while you’re in my bed.”

“Duchess,” I said darkly.

Pushing back on my chest so she could move away from the wall, she grabbed one of my hands and began walking backward down the hall. “Please don’t leave.”

“Staying could be dangerous.” I warned her. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop us this time.”

She smiled when we stepped into her room and let go of my hand to press hers to my stomach again. Her eyes flickered down to watch as her fingers moved along the inside of my jeans. “Maybe you shouldn’t stop us anymore.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and took a deep breath in and out. My first thought was to grab her and take her to the bed, but I had to make sure she wouldn’t regret this tomorrow.

“Reagan, don’t do this for me,” I said, my voice coming out rough from trying to restrain myself.

She bit back a smile and looked up at me. “Stop thinking you’re pushing me into something I’m not ready for. I want this.” A look of uncertainty crossed her face, and her hand stilled. “Unless you don—­”

Grabbing the back of her head, I slammed my mouth down onto hers and growled, “Don’t finish that thought. You’d be out of your goddamn mind to think I don’t want you.”

Walking us toward the bed, I grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head—­letting the material fall to the floor as I pushed her a step away. My eyes moved over her body, and snapped up to hers when her hands went to her back to undo the clasp on her bra.

Closing the distance between us again, I put my hands on her hips and led her back until her legs hit the bed. She stumbled onto it with a husky laugh, and I moved my hands to her bare knees. Parting them enough so I could step between her legs, I watched as she moved the straps of the bra off her shoulders and down her arms. As soon as it was on the floor with her shirt, her hands went to cover herself, and her legs tried to close as the most beautiful blush I’ve ever seen stained her cheeks.

Moving one of my hands to where she was holding her breasts, I grabbed at her wrists and moved her resisting arms away from her body as I laid her down on the bed.

Resting our hands above her head, I brushed my lips against her softly, and asked, “Where’d my fearless girl go?”

Her lips trembled against mine when she responded. “Its one thing to start it—­and to feel confident. Its another when there’s nothing to hide behind anymore.”

I moved back enough to look into her eyes, and shook my head softly. “Don’t hide yourself with me. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Kissing her until I felt her body begin to relax under mine, I slowly moved down her neck and chest until I reached the swell of her breast. With the hand still on her knee, I ran it up her thigh, taking her short and loose skirt with me, until I was gripping her hip through the bunched-­up material. Pulling one of her nipples into my mouth, I smiled against her when her back arched and her fingers gripped my hand—­just like she’d done when we’d been in my studio.

Sitting back on my knees, I moved down her breast and over to the other to pay the same attention, and released her hip to let my fingers trail under the part of the skirt that was still covering her. I moved over the insides of her legs, and the top of her underwear, but never closer until she started restlessly moving on the bed.

“Coen, please.”

Grabbing the lace covering her, I pulled it down, and over her legs—­letting her move them the rest of the way off as I trailed my fingers over her wet heat. Reagan pressed against my hand and moaned when I made teasing circles against her clit.

“Let me touch you,” she pleaded as she tried to free her arms.

The second I released her, she was pulling on my shirt, and unbuttoning my pants as soon as the shirt hit the floor. I laughed against her frustrated whimper when she couldn’t move my pants down, and stood off the bed for a second to rid myself of them and the boxer briefs. Her eyes widened as they moved over my body, and something in me halted when I removed her skirt.

“Reagan.” I said her name like a prayer, and my hands trailed over her as I came to rest between her legs again. “You’re fucking perfection.”

Her eyes met mine, and a slow smile crossed her flushed face. Bringing one hand to the back of my neck, she pulled me toward her, meeting me halfway, and pressed her lips to mine. Pushing two fingers inside her, I swallowed her moans as I laid her back on the bed.

“You’re perfection . . . and you’re mine,” I mumbled against her lips.

She smiled, but it fell into a look I knew I never wanted to forget as I teased her clit and moved my fingers inside her. Her head dropped back on the mattress, and her body arched against mine as she ground her hips into my hand. When she began tightening around me, I removed my fingers, and just as she started to protest the loss of them, pushed into her as I quickened my pace on her clit.

Her eyes widened and a sharp cry left her mouth as her orgasm tore through her body, and I stilled as I felt her simultaneously stretching, and tightening and trembling around my cock.

“Coen! Oh God!”

I smiled against her neck before nipping on it gently, and gripping her hip as I began moving inside her. Her legs wrapped around my back as her body continued to tremble, and a moan left her when I bent to pull one of her nipples into my mouth again. She dug her nails into my back and gasped as I raked my teeth over her nipple before sucking it back into my mouth.

“Too hard?” I asked against her soft skin.

“No,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t stop.”

I pushed harder into her as I licked and sucked on her nipple, before biting down and raking my teeth over it. Each time she’d clench around my cock, and each time she’d whimper when I licked it once more before blowing cool air on it and moving to the next one.

“Oh God. I think . . .”

Moving so I was on my knees and resting on one of my elbows, I moved my hand down to where our bodies were joined, and the next time I bit down on her nipple, I pinched her clit—­and her body exploded around mine. Reagan screamed, and I moved my hand away to cover her mouth as I rode her through her orgasm. Her eyes locked on mine as she continued to moan against my hand, and her fingers dug so hard into my back that I had no doubt I’d have marks when I stilled above her as my release came.

Her breathing was ragged, and soft whimpers were sounding in her chest when I removed my hand, but the most beautiful smile crossed her face.

“Are you okay?” I asked roughly as I held my body above hers.

She looked at me for long seconds before finally nodding, her smile somehow softening into a look even more beautiful. “More than okay.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and pressed my mouth to hers twice before backing up enough to look into her eyes. “I’m sorry for cov—­”

“Don’t, I know why you did,” she said as understanding crossed her face. “But I wouldn’t stop you from doing that even if he wasn’t here.”

My face fell, and somehow, impossibly, I was ready to go again. “You will be the death of me, Reagan Hudson, I have no doubt of that.”

She smiled and leaned up to capture my lips with hers before pulling me down with her. “Then I’ll just have to be careful with you,” she said as she bit down on my bottom lip.

Smirking, I moved to brush my nose along her jaw. “I wouldn’t go that far, Duchess.”

Reagan—­September 3, 2010

MY EYELIDS SLOWLY blinked open, and for a second my body froze. The feel of a heavy arm draped over my waist, a body pressed against my back, and a nose barely grazing the back of my neck wasn’t something I’d ever had before. Even with Austin. And once the initial shock of having someone in my bed wore off, and trying to wake up enough to figure out who it was before I started screaming that there was some creeper in my bed, I lay there trying to memorize the way this felt.

I’d never felt as safe, wanted, or perfectly happy as I did in that moment.

When I remembered last night, a smile tugged at my lips and I curled my body deeper into Coen’s arms. His fingers tightened against my stomach, and his nose rubbed against the back of my neck before his lips gently followed.

My smile widened and I moved my hands behind me to run them over his buzzed head. “Good morning.”

“Mo—­wait, what time is it?” his gruff voice asked.

“Uh, about 5:30?”

Coen was silent for so long that I rolled over so I was now on his chest, and looking into his wide eyes.

“What’s wrong—­I thought we’d agreed you were staying . . . ?”

“It’s five thirty?”

I just nodded. I didn’t understand why he was looking at me like he was. Like I’d just given him the most amazing gift. If anything, I thought he’d be mad I’d woken him up so early.

“Coen . . .”

He huffed and he flashed a quick smile. “I slept,” he replied, and shrugged.

“Uh, yeah?”

Shaking his head quickly, he smiled at me and cupped my face in his hands before kissing me thoroughly. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in . . . in years.”

I smiled against his lips and kissed him again. “Really?”

“Yeah, Reagan. Really.”

I kind of wanted to say something like “best sleep ever,” but just then Coen began teasing my tongue with his own, and all thoughts of actual conversation died.

Positioning myself better so I was fully on top of him, I spread my legs slowly until my knees were pressed against the mattress and I was straddling him. Coen growled into my mouth when his hardening cock pressed against my core, and I rocked myself against him—­craving the feel of him.

“Reagan,” he said my name in warning. “You’re loud.”

I smiled. “And you know how to shut me up.”

The sound of approval in his chest had my insides heating faster. Gripping my hips, he moved me up and slowly slid me back down his length as he asked, “How long until Parker wakes up?”

I whimpered, and it took Coen asking me again before I finally responded. “An hour,” I said breathily.

“Perfect.”

I SMILED AGAINST Coen’s kiss almost an hour later as he passed me to pick his shirt up off the floor and pull it over his head. My eyes followed the shirt as it covered up his lean muscles and tattoos, and I frowned now that he was fully clothed.

“Keep looking at me like that, Duchess, and I’m taking you back to bed,” he said huskily, his eyes never once meeting mine.

After last night, and then again in the bed and shower this morning, there should be no way I could even think about that. Just once with him, after six and a half years without anyone, had left me aching in the most amazing way. But even still, a heat started deep in my stomach and my arms were covered in goose bumps as a shiver worked its way up my spine.

Coen looked over at me before doing a double take. A smirk tugged at his lips as he walked over to me to brush a kiss against my neck. “Your son is going to wake up. As much as I want to spend all day with you . . . in you . . . it’s time to get dressed.”

From the deep laugh that burst from his chest when he moved away, I’m pretty sure I was pouting like a three-­year-­old. Picking up the shirt I’d dropped as I’d watched him dress, I put it on and thought of something for the first time since I’d asked Coen to stay the night.

“Parker . . .”

Coen raised an eyebrow at me and looked toward the door for a second. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“No, I just . . . I didn’t think about this.”

Understanding washed over his face. “About him waking up, and me being here . . . in the same clothes?”

I nodded and bit down on the inside of my cheek. “But I doubt he’d notice your clothes. If he had it his way, he’d wear the same thing every day of the year.”

Coen smiled and walked closer to me. Holding out his hand, he waited until I put my hand in his before pulling me toward him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Reagan, but I think it’s way too early for him to find me here in the morning. Too soon for him, too soon for our relationship . . .”

“Good!” I blew out a relieved breath and moved so I was pressed against his chest. “I think it is too. I’m happy you stayed last night, and if you ever want to, I want you to stay again. But I don’t think Parker should know that yet.”

His dark eyes showed just how glad he was that we were both on the same page with this. “So, should I leave through the window or . . .” he teased, and kissed me quickly when I laughed and pushed against his chest.

“We’ll just have to be quiet,” I whispered, and winked at him as I led him from my bedroom and through the hallway. When we got to my front door, I looked up into his dark eyes and was already wishing for another night with him. “Thank you for staying.”

That look was back. Like I’d just given him the most amazing gift. I didn’t understand it. But if I got kisses like the one he gave me just then every time he looked at me like that, then I’d want to get that look all the time. “Thank you,” he said softly when the kiss ended. “Have a good day, Reagan.”

“You too.” I watched him walk out to his car, and as soon as he was in it, shut the door and tried to school my expression before waking up Parker.

Walking into his room, I smiled when I found him starfished on his stomach, his temporary tattoo on display.

“Wake up, honey,” I crooned softly as I rubbed his back. “Parker, wake up.”

He rolled his head to the side and looked up at me sleepily.

“Morning.”

“Hi, Mom.” He did a weird little wave before gasping and sitting up on his knees and looking around.

“What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Coen?”

My body froze. Had he heard us? Oh God. My stomach filled with dread at that thought. “He’s at his house, baby.”

When Parker looked at me again, he was disappointed. “Oh.”

I licked my lips quickly and had to look away for a second as I tried to compose myself. “Why did you think he’d be here?”

Parker shrugged and looked down at his lap as he mumbled something.

“Don’t mumble.”

“He’s gonna come back, right?”

I smiled at my son, and was so glad he liked Coen just as much as I did. “Of course he is.”

Parker’s face lit up and he bounced up and down. “Is he gonna be my dad?!”

“What?” I managed to choke out.

It felt like all the air had left my body. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to even pull more into my body. Breathe, Reagan, breathe. How do I breathe?!

“Why would you ask that?” I tried to keep the horror from my tone, but I knew I hadn’t succeeded. Parker didn’t seem to notice either way. He still looked beyond excited.

“Because Jason has a dad, and he said everyone has a dad. But I don’t. Uncle Keegan’s my uncle. And Grandpa is my grandpa. And I like Coen. So can Coen be my dad, Mom?”

“Um . . .” Is twenty-­two too early to start having hot flashes? “Parker—­”

“I’m going to ask him if I can start calling him ‘Dad’ next time I see him!”

Parker jumped off his bed and began running around the room as he tore off the shirt he’d slept in, and threw it on the bed.

“Parker, baby, I need you to understand something.” I waited for him to stop running around and look at me until I spoke again. “Coen can’t just start being your dad, do you understand?”

His forehead scrunched together like he was trying really hard to.

I wasn’t about to explain adoption to him, so I skipped to something easier. “If Coen and Mommy got married, then Coen would be your dad.”

Parker laughed. “Okay, Mom! You can marry him, because he’s going to be my dad!” He held up an imaginary light saber—­sounds and all—­and started using it as he ran out of his room. “Can we have waffles?” he yelled from down the hall.

“Oh God,” I groaned, and dropped my face into my hands.

I thought back to Coen’s words and my blood ran cold. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Reagan, but I think it’s way too early for him to find me here in the morning. Too soon for him, too soon for our relationship . . .”

Of course all this was too soon. Too soon. Too soon. And if Parker told Coen that he wanted Coen to be his dad . . . this was too soon for me!

Oh Jesus. I jumped up from Parker’s bed and ran to the guest bathroom as my body mercilessly tried to throw up anything. Dry heaves continued to torment my body for minutes until my stomach calmed, and I sat back to find Parker standing there looking scared.

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, but just kept staring at me.

“See? All better.” I smiled and stood from my spot on the floor to reassure him, and finally he nodded hard twice.

“Yeah, well, when Coen’s my dad he can make sure you’re better.”

My stomach churned again. “Buddy. You—­I don’t think you should tell Coen that you want him to be your dad.”

“No, its okay, Mom. He wants to be.” Grabbing my hand, he pulled me out of the bathroom. “Come on, I’ll make you waffles so you’ll be better.”

He couldn’t make waffles. And I wasn’t sure if I could eat. But I loved my son, and I loved his heart. I was just terrified of what his wants for Coen in our lives was going to actually do to Coen in our lives.