Then he pulled out a pen and paper and scribbled a note. He propped it against the pan the steaks were marinating in then went to the sink to wash his hands.
Regina walked up and leaned over to read the note. Hutch’s hand curled around her shoulder, and she jumped.
“Just me telling Cam that the steaks will be ready to grill in an hour,” Hutch said easily.
“You going somewhere?” she asked.
“Upstairs. With you.”
Her eyes widened, and her heart skipped a beat, giving her that panicky, hiccup feeling in her chest. He pulled her into his arms and stared down at her mouth with half-lidded eyes, as if he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.
Her mouth fell open as she tried to gulp more air into her painfully squeezed lungs. She was nervous, yes. Particularly now, after having made love to Cam. Hutch knew it, he had to. She and Cam hadn’t exactly been discreet.
What were Hutch’s motives? And did it matter, when she wanted him so badly?
He angled his head and slowly closed the distance between them. His lips pressed gently to hers, taking possession of her mouth.
His tongue glided effortlessly over hers, tasting, offering his taste to her. He was present, inside her, every time she inhaled. His scent filled her. Comfort. Safety. Love.
For all practical purposes, this was the first time they’d make love together. Just the two of them. And suddenly she was scared to death.
Hutch felt her tremble against him, shake underneath his fingertips as he held her close. Her little gasps came raggedly, and when he drew away, her pupils were dilated. She looked frightened.
Pain curled its fist around him, squeezing uncomfortably. She was afraid. Of him.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked.
He must have allowed his feelings to show, not that he’d ever been good at hiding them from her. She had a way of prying him open, flaying him wide for the world to see. Not a comfortable prospect for a man.
“You’re afraid of me,” he said in a low voice.
Sorrow filled her eyes, and she reached out to cup his face. He couldn’t help the reaction that had him turning into her palm to kiss the baby-soft skin.
“Not of you,” she whispered. “Never of you, Hutch. But I won’t lie to you and say I’m not afraid. Not of you, but of what you think. Of what you feel.”
His brows drew together in confusion. He sensed this was an important conversation, and he didn’t want to have it down here, no matter that he was supposed to be willing to share Reggie with Cam and Sawyer. No one ever said he couldn’t hold some part of her special, away from the others.
“Will you come upstairs with me, baby? We can talk in the bedroom.”
She nodded, and he took her hand, holding it tightly in his. They walked to the stairs, side by side, and he curled his arm around her waist as they started up.
He nudged her into his room and shut the door behind them. Without hesitation, he pulled her against his chest, tilting her head back so he could claim her lips.
“I’ve waited so long to have you like this, Reggie,” he whispered as he walked her backward toward the bed. “In my arms, looking at me like you looked at me in the kitchen.”
He eased her down onto the bed, coming with her, holding himself above her as he stared intently into her eyes.
“Tell me what you’re afraid of, baby.”
She gazed up at him and reached to touch his face. She traced the lines of his forehead and feathered down to his jawline. Tentatively, she ran one finger over his firm lips.
He caught the tip between his teeth, nipping ever so slightly as he sucked it into his mouth.
A quiver worked over her body. She wanted that mouth on hers. He would be so exquisitely gentle. He’d always treated her like fine china. Had always been protective of her, always supported her hopes and dreams.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she hastened to explain. “Never of you, Hutch. I’m afraid of seeing the way you look at me changing. Of the way you feel about me changing.”
His brow crinkled, and his eyes flared. “Why would any of that change?”
