The Snowball Effect ch. 25-27 (Patreon)

And we're back again!

Listen, I really did believe these chapters would have brought us to the end...

But, being who I am, I'm going to add in a few more short chaps to really round this story out. It's what Emma and Regan (and you all) deserve. Enjoy! We will have 1 more batch coming up soon :)

----------------------The Snowball Effect-------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Five

Regan had to wonder if she was on some sort of practical prank show, as she pulled open the door to a bar that Audrey had asked her to meet her at.

Actually – no, she hadn’t asked. She’d dropped Regan a pin along with the text:

Come and meet me . !

Even though they’d been on much better terms for the last month, Regan had never met Audrey to get a casual drink in their entire lives. Sure, they were texting more frequently, and it was amicable but there was no way she would have possibly anticipated Audrey wanting to meet up with her for a casual hangout after work.

Especially not when it seemed Audrey was possibly drunk?!

Cautiously, Regan approached the bar, where she could see her sister sitting on one of the stools.

Her sister’s fine, silky blonde hair was pulled into one of those ponytails that Regan often thought could only be accomplished by social media influencers or something. She wore diamond earrings with a matching necklace – jewelry that wasn’t flashy but was definitely expensive as hell. The sleeveless dark blue dress she wore was undoubtedly designer, and the cream-colored blazer she’d definitely worn over it to work was draped over the back of her chair without a single wrinkle to be seen.

Regan had never seen Audrey at work at her fancy PR firm, but… yeah, this was exactly what she would have imagined her sister wore in her everyday life.

The wine bar itself was one that Regan would never have stepped foot in; she doubted she could afford to buy a bottle of anything in here. And, in her sports bra and overalls, she didn’t exactly belong with the other clientele.

She cleared her throat as she approached her sister, alerting her to Regan’s presence.

Audrey spun on her stool so quickly, she nearly fell off of it. Quickly, Regan jumped forward to try to help stabilize her, baffled by the fact that – yeah. Audrey really was drunk!

“Regan! Hey, you!” Audrey’s cheeks were rosy, and her green eyes were a little glassy, and Regan felt like her world was flipped on its fucking axis.

“Uh, hey… you.” Slowly, she removed her hands from her sister’s arms, making sure that Audrey wasn’t going to slip off of her stool again. “What’s going on?”

Audrey ignored her question and turned to lift the briefcase that had been draped over the stool next to her, as if she’d been saving it. “Come and sit,” she commanded, in that imperious tone. It was a little less imperious, though, when she was clearly not in full control of her faculties.

She turned sharply, waving at the woman tending the bar.

“Marlie, this is my sister, Regan. She’ll have what I’m having.” Audrey used one of her hands to swirl the red wine in her glass. Thankfully, there was very little left in said glass, or it would have sloshed right out.

Swearing she could hear the Twilight Zone theme in her head, Regan perched herself on the stool. “So–”

“Actually,” Audrey started again, looking up at Regan with a considering frown. “Do you even like wine, Regan? Because, ha, I have no idea if you do. It’s a Sangiovese, made and imported from a vineyard Armando and I toured in Italy last year.” She laughed again, mirthlessly, as she tapped her fingertips against the bar. “Actually – only I went on the tour. But Armando had a ticket, so…”

She shrugged, as if to say there you go, and lifted her glass again, taking a large gulp to down the rest of the liquid.

Regan could only stare for several beats, finding herself at a loss for words. Mostly because what she wanted to say was what the fuck? But she bit that back.

“Um… wine is… fine. No punning rhyme intended.” She smiled as brightly as she could at Marlie as she poured a glass for Regan and refilled Audrey’s, wondering exactly how difficult it had been for her to manage Audrey so far. God, Regan hoped her sister was going to tip well.

“Wine is fine. Indeed, it is.” Audrey sighed in agreement, as she nodded toward Regan. “So – go on. Drink up.”

Regan tugged the glass toward her carefully – this was the last place she needed to accidentally drop a glass and cause a scene – but kept her wary gaze trained on her sister.

“Tell me what you were up to today,” Audrey stated rather than ask, turning an expectant look at her.

Still feeling vaguely like there was a prank being pulled on her, Regan blew out a slow breath. “Nothing much. I’d just finished baking a batch of cookies when you’d texted.”

“That’s right. I saw on your Instagram that you do that, now,” Audrey’s voice dipped into something low and thoughtful.

Again, even though they’d definitely turned a corner, Regan couldn’t help but be surprised that Audrey knew about her baking, that she kept up with Regan’s socials. “Uh, yeah. These are for a retirement party, actually.”

Emma’s gram had not only gotten Regan a referral for this party, but two other potential events in the last week. Which Regan was still having trouble wrapping her mind around; people were paying her to bake? People liked the things she created enough to want her to cater parties?!

She was approaching this new avenue with as much caution as she could, but she was also thrilled by it.

Audrey pursed her lips as she nodded decisively at her. “You know, Regan, that’s great. That is really wonderful, that you have this passion.”

Her eyebrows arched high on her forehead as she took a little sip of wine. “Thanks. It’s been–”

“Now, tell me: are you dating anyone?” Audrey asked with however much laser-focus someone could have when they weren’t sober.

Choking on her sip, Regan quickly sat the glass down; that was why she wasn’t supposed to touch the wine glasses in fancy restaurants. “What? Why – Audrey, what is going on?”

There was a knowing glint in her sisters’ eyes as she leaned back. “Ah, so you are dating someone.”

“I’m…” Regan’s cheeks heated, her heart skipping a beat at the very thought of Emma. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Her tone sounded just as awed as she felt, at the confirmation. Yes, she was dating Emma. How crazy was that?

“We’ve never talked about our personal relationships. Have you realized that? Never. Not once.” Audrey frowned, her eyebrows knitting tightly as she shook her head. “I don’t like that.”

Good god, what had happened to set this off? Regan had to wonder. “It’s… I mean, we didn’t really talk about anything,” she slowly said, with as much tact as she could manage. But they’d barely had any semblance of a relationship for most of their adult lives, so, of course they hadn’t.

Apparently, her words didn’t provide any sense of peace to Audrey, whose frown etched even deeper into her face as she stared into Regan’s eyes. “I know, Regan. I’m telling you that I don’t like it, and that it would be nice if things were different. And I know we – we bonded, or whatever you’d call it, at brunch, and we’ve texted and whatnot. But I want to know more about you.”

Yeah, Regan had not been prepared for this in any possible way.

“So, tell me.” Audrey waved her hand, imploring Regan to talk again.

Regan chewed at her bottom lip, unsure of how to broach this topic with Audrey, given that she’d only ever shared it with Charlotte freaking Thompson. But also finding that she wanted to tell her.

She wanted to talk about Emma, badly. She wanted to gush about her and about them and their date and everything else that had taken place over the last week.

She wanted to talk about how Emma had surprised her with a little karaoke set up in their living room on Saturday night, when Regan had returned home from work. How Emma had shrugged that adorable little embarrassed shrug, as she’d murmured, “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re the only one that cares enough to plan dates, or that I don’t listen to your interests.”

How Emma had – after two margaritas – finally let loose and started really singing, too.

She wanted to talk about how, on Tuesday, Emma had watched her work on her latest map for the D&D commission she’d received, and how it had made her feel important and sheepish and swept up, as Emma asked her questions and seemed totally, completely into it. Into her.

She wanted to share how they’d taken to cuddling in close on the couch while they watched tv together every night.

She… okay, well, she didn’t really want to tell her sister about this, but she wanted to revel in it, still. In the hot, wanting, needy make-outs that always inevitably started after they were cuddling together. About how she’d never felt so fucking turned on in her life as she did when Emma’s mouth was on hers or on her neck, feeling how their bodies slotted together so perfectly. How they grinded into each other like horny teenagers, and how Regan never wanted to stop.

She definitely did not plan on telling her sister about how the only reason they ever managed to stop, was because she knew what would take place after she and Emma parted ways for the night. That they’d masturbated while on the phone with each other every night for the last five nights. How she was excited to go to her own bedroom, because she was already so turned on and soaking wet from their cuddling and kissing and touching.

She’d never in her life imagined she’d have such an active sex life without actually having sex with someone.

And… okay, she might want to shout from the rooftops that she and Emma then slept together, in her bed, afterwards. That she’d woken up wrapped up in Emma every morning since their first date, and she’d never before felt like her world was so on fire.

Blinking herself out of her thoughts, Regan reached for her wine glass and took a big sip. Hoping, somehow, that she could control herself from getting turned on by the mere thought of Emma, here in this swanky wine bar.

“It’s… new,” she settled on, darting her gaze at her sister. “But it’s amazing.” She inhaled deeply, wondering how this next part was going to go… “She’s amazing.”

Holding her breath, Regan waited for Audrey’s response.

Which came in pieces.

First, Audrey’s frown. Then, the widening of her eyes. Then the tilting of her head. And finally, she refocused on Regan, intently. “She?”

Regan exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Yep. She. She who is named Emma.”

“Huh. Okay.” Audrey shrugged, taking another sip of her wine. “And she’s your girlfriend?”

Flattening her hand on top of the bar, Regan leaned in, confused. “That’s it? No other reaction to finding out I’m with a woman?”

Audrey narrowed her eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know! Are you surprised?” She pressed, unable to quell how baffled she was at her strait-laced sister being so nonchalant about this. After all, it had thrown Regan, herself, for a freaking loop.  

“Should I be?” Audrey challenged. “As far as I knew until one minute ago, the only deep and meaningful relationship you’ve ever had is with Sutton. So, no. I’m not surprised.”

Regan slouched back, running Audrey’s words over in her mind, and… “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.” She rolled her lips, needing to ask, “And you don’t care? You’re fine with this?”

The scoffing laugh Audrey let out was so loud, Regan jumped back from it. Yeah, okay, that was the reminder she’d needed that her typically super reserved sister was fucking drunk. “What, like you’re the only queer person I know?” The look in her eyes glinted, as she smartly tapped her glass against Regan’s. “Like you’re the only queer person in our family?”

Regan’s jaw fell slack, shock rushing through her. “What?!” Her own exclamation was loud, but she didn’t give a shit. She leaned in, eagerly. “Is it Uncle Barry? Because I always thought–”

Audrey rolled her eyes as she cut her off. “It’s me, Regan. Obviously.”

Seriously, Regan could be knocked over with a fucking feather. Words escaped her, as she could only stare at her sister. Apparently, someone she knew even less about than she’d thought.

“How – and I repeat: how – is that obvious?” Regan finally managed to ask. “You’ve been with Armando since you were, like, in college.”

“In business school,” Audrey corrected, sharply. “I had a girlfriend in college. Kind of.” She frowned, deeply, her bottom lip poking out, before she waved her hand, dismissively. “It was a thing, anyway.”

Regan ran a hand through her hair, trying to make sense of it all. “Holy shit.”

“Hmm,” Audrey hummed, thoughtfully, in agreement.

“What happened with her?” Regan leaned forward, ready to take in every detail. Because – what the fuck!

“Nothing. We… broke up, in a manner of speaking. Haven’t spoken since,” Audrey’s sentences were disjointed, as she shrugged, then drooped her shoulders down low. Clearly more affected than she wanted to verbally let on.

All Regan could do was sit back and try to wrap her head around this development, which was not easy.

“And then, I got with Armando. And he’s… just, great. Really. So, so – wonderful,” Audrey bit out, her tone dark, as she narrowed her eyes down at the engagement ring that glinted on her finger.

What in the world was going on?!

“Exactly forty-five days until the biggest moment of my life,” Audrey continued, not taking her eyes off her ring. “Forty-five days.”

Regan darted her eyes between the engagement ring, her sister’s face, then back.

“Right. And you’re… not… happy about that,” she slowly drew out.

“I’m ecstatic. Can’t you tell?” Audrey shot back, pasting a smile that was terrifyingly authentic looking on her face, as she turned to face Regan again.

“Uh. I don’t think I can tell anything about you, right now,” she admitted, honestly. “I can’t tell why you asked me to come here. I can’t tell why you’re getting drunk after work in a bar on a weekday, which doesn’t seem to be your style but if this evening has taught me anything it’s that I don’t really know you at all. So, I have no idea about anything,” she repeated, because it was the absolute truth.

“Join the club, Regan,” Audrey muttered, as she picked up her glass and downed the remainder of it. “I texted you tonight because I felt like I was going to fucking explode, but I don’t want to accidentally tell any of my friends about Armando treating our relationship like a business arrangement. Or about how he’s more passionate about Dad’s political connections than he is about me. Or about how we haven’t had sex in over six months. We’re not even married yet, and we’re basically celibate.”

She let out a harsh laugh, before she bit it off on a sharp breath and dropped her head into her hands.

“Forty-five days,” she muttered, thickly.

Alarmed and filled with sympathy, Regan leaned in and tentatively wrapped her arm around her sister’s waist, trying to comfort her.

It was something she’d never done, but it didn’t feel super strange. In fact, it felt… kind of similar to when she comforted Sutton. Not the exact same, but she felt the same need to want to help figure out how to soothe over the pain.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” she whispered, making sure to keep her voice as low as possible. She knew without a doubt that Audrey would never want someone to hear her say this; hell, maybe Audrey didn’t even want her to say it.

Audrey didn’t lift her head, even as she shook it in firm dissent. “Yes, I do. It’s planned. It’s paid for. The guest list is finalized. Armando’s family is flying in from Spain. Mom and Dad have invited half of the country club. My friends and I are flying out for the weekend to Napa for my bridal party on Friday.”

“So?” She refused to back down, because amongst that whole list, she didn’t hear anything that sounded remotely like a real reason to get married. “Who cares?”

Audrey whipped her head up to stare at Regan with narrowed eyes. “Everyone cares,” she hissed back. “Armando and I work at the same firm; he’s – indirectly – my superior. Mom texts me every other day to remind me of what needs to get done before the wedding. Everyone cares, Regan.”

“I don’t care,” she emphasized, holding Audrey’s gaze with her own. “You’re tying yourself to this guy for the rest of your life – or you’re going to go through a divorce that is probably going to be lengthy and expensive. Both of which sound like really shitty options to me.”

Audrey let out a trembling breath, her glassy eyes growing even glassier, before she blinked and turned away from her. “It’s not that easy.”

“I didn’t say it was easy; I said you don’t have to marry him.”

Audrey dug her teeth so hard into her lip, Regan was concerned she’d draw blood. Still, she tightly shook her head. “No. I’m not that person. I’m not flaky or undependable. I’m not you. I can’t just… just walk away from my commitments like that.”

Regan didn’t know why she was surprised by the statement, or why she was surprised it dug into her, sharply reminding her that she and Audrey still had a long way to go.

She slowly dropped her arm from where she’d still had it draped around her sister, in an obviously ineffective attempt to offer comfort.

“Maybe that’s why you texted me tonight,” she challenged, as she drew away. As she spoke, she grew more certain, and she nodded, firmly. “Actually, I think it is.”

Audrey turned to face her, eyes red-rimmed, her expression drawn tight.

And Regan stared, the sharp bite of pain from Audrey’s comment fading as she scanned her eyes over her sister’s face. Mostly because it was replaced by… pity.

“I think you texted me because out of all of the people in your life, I’m the only one that isn’t going to encourage you to marry some d-bag just because Mom and Dad think you should, or because he’s attractive and successful, or because it already seems like a done deal.” Emboldened, Regan knocked her knuckles lightly against the bar. “Yeah, I think that’s exactly why. Because you had to know if you told me anything about Armando, that I’d tell you what I thought. And, on some level, you wanted to hear it.”

Audrey hastily reached up, swiping her hand over her cheeks to wipe away any fallen tears as she shook her head. “No, that’s not–”

Regan cut her off, on a roll. “You know, Audrey, you and I might be very different. I might not have Mom and Dad’s approval in any way, but I’m happy with my life.” She leaned in, imploring quietly, “Why do you still feel like you need to make them happy, when you know that they don’t care if you are?”

Audrey’s breath caught in her throat, hitching, before she hurriedly slapped her hand over her mouth in an obvious attempt to cut off any more threatening tears.

In yet another unexpected turn, Regan felt her stomach twist in sympathy.

“That’s – I’m done,” Audrey announced, her voice hoarse even though Regan could hear how much she tried for a steely tone. “I need to go home.”

“Okay.” Regan watched her sister shakily reach into her bag, pulling out her credit card.

She watched her for another long moment, wondering – for the first time – who in Audrey’s life really cared about her true feelings, if Regan was the person she’d called tonight?

With that in mind, she unlocked her phone and tapped a few buttons, before locking it and looking up at Audrey, who was staring down at her credit card in utter consternation.

“I ordered you a car home. It’ll be here in five.”

Audrey’s still-teary eyes widened, and she swallowed visibly hard. “You didn’t have to do that; I – I’ll pay you back.”

Regan waved her off, as she slid off her stool. “I don’t want your money; I just want you to know that I love you, whether you get married in forty-five days or not.”

***

What a wild night.

Regan’s thoughts whirred in an unstoppable loop as she walked down the hall toward her apartment.

Regan – 7:42PMSutton… I don’t even have the wherewithal for adoring nicknames right now. I know you’re sleeping, but you are the only person that is going to fully understand the magnitude of what I have to share. I HAVE to tell you about what happened tonight with Audrey. You would never in a million years guess what the developments are on this side of the ocean

She slid her phone in her back pocket with one hand as she reached for the apartment door with her other.

Even with all of the insanity with her sister, she could still feel the vibrating excitement inside at the prospect of seeing Emma. Even though – per her text to Sutton – Emma didn’t necessarily know the gravity of what had happened with Audrey, she still couldn’t wait to tell her. She couldn’t wait to tell Emma everything.

“Hey! I’m home,” she called out, quickly kicking off her shoes.

“I’m in the living room,” Emma called back.

Regan grinned, nearly tripping over her own feet with the haste to get to Emma as quickly as possible.

“Do you just want to get a pizza or something for dinner? I planned on throwing some spaghetti together or something, but you wouldn’t believe–” All of the words she could have possibly come up with escaped her as soon as she walked into the living room.

Nothing existed in her brain anymore.

The interaction with Audrey? Gone. Thoughts of dinner? Nope, what was that?

Because Emma was sitting on their couch wearing her glasses and one of her button-ups that she typically wore to work. But instead of how she usually wore it – appropriate for the office – the top five? Six?! Buttons were undone.

Leaving her breasts, encased in that sexy lacy red bra that Regan recognized from months ago, showcased for Regan’s gaze to feast on.

Her throat ran dry – parched. She was parched. A woman in a desert kind of parched.

“Emma,” she breathed, and she swayed where she stood. “What are you… you’re just… what?”

Emma slowly raised an eyebrow at her. The look was both teasing and a little unsure, and Regan had no idea how she managed that combination. She had no idea why Emma would feel uncertain at all. “You mentioned last night when we were…” She trailed off, clearing her throat.

“Touching ourselves while on the phone with each other so we could hear each other come,” Regan supplied helpfully, her voice raspy. “I find it so cute that you’re so shy when we talk about it.”

And she did. The dualities of Emma made Regan feel so soft. She was someone who was fearlessly sharp and had spoken her mind to Regan for years, yet became bashful when they talked about sex…

Regan loved it. Though, she wondered if she would love just about anything about Emma at this point.

Emma’s exhale trembled on a visible shiver. “Yes, that. You said – not for the first time – that you were dying to see my breasts. And you’ve been very vocal about your feelings on my glasses, so…”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Regan knew that was what was happening, because it was right in front of her fucking eyes, but she still couldn’t believe it. Her blood rushed with delight and surprise and arousal – so, so much arousal.

Emma’s lips pursed. “I guess I am,” she answered, dragging the words out. “I don’t really know; all I know is that last night, when we went to our separate beds and I came against my own fingers, I’ve never been so dissatisfied while still feeling sated. Because I… I want your touch. And I’m so tired of hearing you come, but not being the one to cause it. Not really.”

She could see how hard Emma swallowed, across the room. “And it’s all I’ve thought about, all day.”

Regan was breathless with the heat that sparked through her, the need pulsing between her legs as if there was a switch Emma had flicked.

In a way, she supposed, there was.

How else was she supposed to react when Emma was sitting there, waiting for Regan to come home, so that she could make Regan’s fantasies come true?

Still, she clenched her hands into fists so tight, her nails bit deeply into her palms. She needed that, to steady herself. To make sure she didn’t run across the room and throw herself at Emma right this fucking second.

“I… you wanted to make sure we weren’t going too fast,” Regan cautioned, her breathing already growing erratic, and she couldn’t stop staring at Emma’s tits.

Her cleavage looked so incredible; Regan wanted to bury her face there and it was fine if she suffocated. She didn’t really care – in fact, she could die happy.

“We’re supposed to keep each other in check,” she reminded Emma from their conversation last week. It took every single ounce of will power Regan had, to recall that conversation right now.

And that had been what they’d done every night.

When their kisses grew so heated, when they strained against one another so needily, one of them would pull back. When their hands started to wander and their touches grew more desperate, pulling on shirts and pants, they’d break away from each other.

It had become an unspoken agreement, really, that they’d quickly go their separate ways so that they could take things further, without taking them further.

“If you feel like it’s too soon–” Emma started, but Regan couldn’t let her finish.

“I don’t!” She jumped in, vehemently shaking her head. Feeling crazed already. “It’s not too soon, for me. Fine, it’s only been like a week since our first date; big deal. We live together. Every night we hang out is a date. Dinner together, movies, tv shows, activities – we’ve spent more time together in the last few months than couples who have been together for a year. It’s not too soon,” she repeated, meaning every single word.

The relief was evident on Emma’s face, as she breathed, “Thank god.”

That was it. That was all the confirmation Regan needed.

She pounced at Emma, bounding across the room and jumping into her lap. Her legs bracketed Emma’s thighs, and she settled on top of her, gripping her shoulders.

Immediately, she felt Emma’s hands slide up her thighs. Maybe Emma was helping Regan catch her balance, but whatever the purpose of her touch – it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that the sensation of Emma’s fingers gliding up the backs of her thighs shot right to Regan’s clit. She rolled her hips down against Emma’s, before ducking her head to capture Emma’s mouth with her own.

Several of their kisses in the last week had started off slow and soft. When they’d been cuddling on the couch just last night, and Emma had turned to look at Regan rather than the television, she’d felt hypnotized by the way Emma’s blue eyes looked so… electric in the dim lighting of the living room. She’d been drawn in, gently cupping Emma’s jaw as she’d pressed their lips together.

Right now, she did not have the patience for that.

Not when her thoughts were reeling, and she was pulsing between her legs, and she continued to roll her hips down against Emma.

There was so much she wanted to do. So, so much, she thought, desperately, as she sucked on Emma’s tongue. One of her hands slid up to card through Emma’s hair; something she’d learned was that she never tired of that. She never tired of feeling these long, soft strands between her fingers, or of the quiet whimpering sounds that escaped Emma’s throat when she scratched against her scalp.

They’d managed to keep their heady make-out sessions relatively PG; she’d slid her hands under Emma’s shirt, stroked them over her soft stomach, explored up her back, stroked down her sides. She’d slid her fingertips just under the cups of Emma’s bra, had felt how stiff her nipples were against her palms through the material.

But she hadn’t had the chance to really see Emma. To finally – finally! – get her shirt fully off, and her bra, too.

With that in mind, she broke their kiss. Regan honestly wasn’t sure who let out the needy groan as soon as they were no longer kissing, but she wouldn’t be shocked if it had been herself.

She flexed the hand she still had gripped in Emma’s hair, watching in hungry amazement as Emma’s eyes fluttered closed at the movement.

“I want to see you. God, I want it so badly,” her voice was hoarse and rasping with need, and Regan wasn’t going to hide it. She rolled her hips down, hard and intent, against Emma.

Dropping her gaze down very deliberately, she stared at Emma’s chest. Flicking her tongue out, she licked her lips, and the move was entirely unintentional. She just really did feel hungry for more. Hungry for Emma.

She slid the hand she’d had braced on Emma’s shoulder down, slowly. Moving over the thin fabric of her shirt until she made contact with Emma’s soft skin. Hot to her touch, they both shuddered, as Regan drew fingers down over Emma’s clavicle. She relished in every inch she touched, her breath ragged, as she stared down to watch her own hand on Emma.

For a moment, she paused. Holding still in the center of Emma’s chest, so she could feel the pounding of Emma’s heart.

She’d known – obviously – that Emma was attracted to her, that she was very affected by their kisses and touches. Hell, she’d gone to sleep every night for a week with the little sounds Emma made as she came, thinking of Regan, in her ears.

Still, it amazed her to feel Emma’s heart racing the same way her own was.

Exhaling shakily, she inched her hand down…

Emma’s chest was heaving with the panting breaths she let out, making the tops of her breasts rise out of the cups of her bra, and Regan didn’t bother to bite back the keening whine that worked out of her, as she stroked her fingertips over the tops of Emma’s breasts, before dipping down into her cleavage, and…

“I was staring right here when I registered how much I wanted to touch you,” she whispered, reverently.

She could still visualize that moment, so clearly, in her head. Looking down at Emma as she’d been perched on the arm of the chair in the bookstore, starting at her face, before moving her gaze to her thighs, then – right here. And she’d wanted this – exactly this moment, as she stroked her fingertips over Emma’s chest – so badly at that moment.

“Then touch me,” Emma urged, her nails biting into the backs of Regan’s upper thighs. Right under her ass, as they slipped under the hem of Regan’s shorts.

Regan was itching to do just that, and her hands were shaking as she – reluctantly – dropped away from Emma’s chest so she could undo the buttons on Emma’s shirt. “I need this off. This, and your bra. I love your bras, I really do,” she confessed, even though she was certain it wasn’t a secret at all. “They’re so sexy, but – take it off,” she demanded, tugging down hard on Emma’s shirt.

She couldn’t completely undo all of the buttons herself, as she needed Emma to lean back so she could get to the bottom ones, and she needed it done now.

Emma hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. “I just… I’m just – a little self-conscious,” she whispered, a rawness in her tone that mixed with the edge of arousal. “No one’s seen me – all of me – in… a while. And even then, it was just one person, so…”

Regan squeezed her eyes closed, trying to reach for some semblance of calm. “I, um, I… we don’t…”

God, she couldn’t even find any words with how jumbled she felt inside, how the molten desire in her had twisted her up.

“I want to,” Emma insisted, reminding her, “I decided to do this, remember?” She arched a teasing look up at Regan. Still, she swallowed, hard. “I just, I want you to know what I’m feeling.”

That vulnerability in Emma’s voice, that etched over her face, was the key to cutting through – a little – Regan’s arousal. Making way amidst the heat inside of her for something soft, something that made her heart flutter in her chest.

“Thanks for telling me,” she murmured, honestly. “I would never want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, I just…” She dipped her gaze back down, where her hand was resting just below Emma’s bra, on her soft stomach. “I think you are so fucking sexy. Everything about you.”

Emma nodded with her words, blowing out a low breath. “You’ve never made me doubt that.”

Regan wondered, errantly, if Felicity had. Because – from everything Regan had gathered and been told – Felicity hadn’t been the sweetest or most romantic or enthusiastic girlfriend. Regan was a much better one, in her own humble opinion.

“And, you know…” She lifted her eyes back up to meet Emma’s, grinning crookedly. “I have seen you shirtless, multiple times. As you’ve said before. I’ve slept with your body against mine every night for a week. I know your stomach isn’t flat, and that you aren’t ripped, or whatever.” She shrugged. “I want you exactly the way you are. Like… desperately,” she admitted.

Taking a deep breath in attempt to stabilize herself, Regan reached back and grabbed one of Emma’s hands. She guided it around, tracing Emma’s touch over to the front of her thigh, as she pushed herself up on her knees. Even though it was her own hand moving Emma’s, she shivered so intensely, her hips jerking with it.

She paused for a second so she could watch Emma’s face and make sure she really did want to do this right now. Before she gripped Emma’s wrist and guided her touch up her inner own inner thigh, until she felt Emma’s fingers brush against her pussy through her underwear.

A moan rumbled through her chest, her eyes fluttering closed of their own accord, as she rolled her hips down and tightened her grip on Emma’s wrist. Holding her firmly so her touch didn’t disappear. Regan might die if it did.

Emma gasped, then groaned, “Regan, fuck.”

Without Regan’s hand guiding her, Emma flexed her fingers against Regan. Rocking against her, intently, as she breathed, “You’re so wet; you’re soaking my fingers and I’m not even touching you yet.”

“I know,” she panted back, rolling her hips down as she nodded, rapidly. “I know. I’m this wet for you every night. All of the time.”

She released Emma’s wrist, scratching her nails down her forearm.

“So, when I tell you that I want you, I mean it,” she grit out, swearing as Emma slid her fingertips, knowingly, right over her clit. “You can feel how much I mean it.”

Disappointment rolled through her when Emma’s touch disappeared, only to be replaced by elation a moment later. Because Emma’s hands went right to her own shirt, finishing the last of the buttons Regan hadn’t been able to get to, before she reached back…

Regan’s breath caught and held in her throat, the anticipation buzzing through her. Emma’s eyes stayed locked on hers, as she undid her bra, and slid it off.

“Jesus,” she breathed, and this truly did feel like a holy moment.

Emma’s breasts were luscious and supple and immediately, Regan reached out, palming them.

They were much more than a handful; at least, much more than Regan could fit in her hands. She cupped, first, wanting to feel their weight, before she stroked her fingertips over the bottom curve.

“You’re so soft,” she breathed, mesmerized by watching her own hands map every inch of Emma’s chest.

She circled her thumbs over Emma’s nipples. Nipples that were so hard, and somehow, even softer than her skin.

“You have breasts, too,” Emma murmured back, and there was a combination of amusement and heat in her tone. She could pretend Regan’s touch wasn’t igniting her inside the same as it was to Regan, but she could feel how erratic Emma’s breathing was with every firm swipe Regan made over her nipples.

She shot Emma an admonishing look. “Not like this.”

With that, she reached up to push Emma back against the couch, urging her to recline against the cushion. As soon as Emma did, Regan leaned in, so ready.

Ready to play out every want, every thought, every desire to explore Emma’s body that she’d had for weeks.

Voracious, she captured one of Emma’s nipples with her lips. Emma liked her lips; she’d told Regan multiple times. With that in mind, she wrapped them around Emma’s nipple and sucked, before releasing… lightly brushing over the very tip with her bottom lip.

She both felt and heard the long, whimpering moan that escaped Emma, and it fed even deeper into Regan’s hunger. She’d wondered for weeks if Emma was sensitive, how responsive she was. And now, she got to taste it. Got to feel it. The way Emma’s nipple got impossibly harder against her mouth, how Emma’s breath hitched and caught in her throat.

One of her hands roamed lower, stroking over Emma’s perfect curves – finally, finally, unhindered by a stitch of clothing – as the other continued to toy with Emma’s breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers, tugging on it. Testing out different things to see what got the best response from Emma.

Because Regan would be damned if she’d waited for so long – fantasized so many nights with Emma across the hall – and she didn’t take full advantage of this moment. This moment to confirm for herself how perfect this felt, to show Emma how raw her hunger truly was.

She planted open-mouthed kisses over the inner curve of Emma’s breast, before she licked up the center of her chest, every taste leaving Regan both satisfied and still wanting more.

Especially as one of Emma’s hands tightened in her hair, gripping but not moving Regan’s head anywhere. There was a neediness in her grip, the same that burned through Regan. She felt Emma’s other hand as she dug her nails into Regan’s shoulder, then scratched lower, over her shoulder blade, and Regan knew she’d have scratches on her back.

The idea made her groan against Emma, her clit throbbing. Yes, she wanted to be marked by Emma. She wanted the physical reminder of their night, in any way possible. Every way possible.

She tasted Emma everywhere she possibly could in their position. Every inch of her chest, alternating sucking and lightly dragging her teeth over Emma’s nipples, feeling the way Emma’s hips jerked up against her.

And no matter how forcefully Regan rocked her own hips down, it wasn’t enough. She was aching and so wet, her underwear was so uncomfortable, and she wanted it all off. She wanted everything off, desperately. She wanted not a single stitch left on either of them. She wanted – no, she needed – to stop running into the waist of Emma’s fucking pants, every time she stroked her fingers down, wanting so badly to be able to touch Emma’s thighs.

With that in mind, she forced herself to pull back.

It was hard as hell, because she didn’t want to give an inch of this closeness up.

Her lips tingled, craving Emma’s skin, as she stared down at Emma. Whose eyes were heavily lidded, her cheeks flushed, her naked chest moving so deliciously with every ragged breath she took.

“Bedroom,” Regan managed to pant out. “Sutton and I promised we’d never defile the living room couch, and I respect that promise, and I need us to go to my bedroom – now.”

She’d never been more relieved, more turned the fuck on, than she was when Emma nodded with no hesitation.

Regan’s knees were weak as she slid off Emma’s lap and stood, and – wait, what?

As soon as gravity took over, her overalls slid off her body, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing in front of Emma in her sports bra and ruined underwear.

“When did you do that?” She asked, pointing down at her overall straps, which were – clearly – unsnapped. “I didn’t even feel it.”

“When you were biting my nipple, and I felt like I was going crazy needing to touch more of you,” Emma answered, smartly, her voice hardly more than a rasp.

“You’re perfect.” Regan stepped out of her overalls and grabbed Emma’s hand tightly, pulling her up. “Let’s go.”

Because she was seconds away from stripping them both down and pushing Emma back down against the couch, promises to her best friend be damned.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Emma,” Regan’s breathless cry wasn’t really all that loud, but Emma shuddered with it, feeling like it exploded in the dimmed lighting of Regan’s bedroom.

Emma had Regan pressed against the doorframe, her own hands working fervently over Regan’s body. She’d had such limited space to touch when they’d been on the couch, as Regan had been so determined to explore Emma’s chest.

And she wasn’t complaining, not by a fucking mile, because Regan’s mouth had felt so good.

But, “You’re not the only one that’s desperate to touch,” she rasped out, before nipping her teeth into Regan’s throat. That sensitive place she’d found days ago, that made Regan melt.

As if on cue, she felt Regan’s legs shake softly, and she pressed herself even more firmly against Regan, holding her up.

Had Emma ever felt so viscerally satisfied? She didn’t think so; there was no way.

Regan was so responsive to her, to everything she did. And Emma wanted to touch everywhere she possibly could.

She hooked her fingertips into Regan’s sports bra, tugging up slightly, urging Regan to lift her arms and let Emma take it off.

Regan complied, immediately, and that easy compliance shot another streak of heat down between Emma’s legs. “I didn’t – I didn’t know this was going to happen,” Regan panted, as Emma pulled off her bra. “I would have worn my own sexy bra, if I did.”

“I didn’t know, either. And you don’t need a bra to be sexy,” Emma shot back, before she slid her hands up the gentle curve of Regan’s little waist and cupped her breasts.

She felt Regan shudder against her and watched how she dropped her head back against the doorway, before she leaned back in; the long line of Regan’s neck was begging for her attention.

Really, though, Emma hadn’t planned for this to happen.

Sure, she’d spent all day at work trying desperately to stay focused on the Alton Fellowship interviews rather than letting her mind wander to Regan. To the sounds Regan made when she came, the sounds that reverberated in Emma’s mind like an echo chamber. It only got more intense as the days went on.

It was as though every orgasm she experienced with Regan without actually being able to physically touch her simply made Emma’s need even more urgent.

She’d tried to keep them on a fine line of satisfaction – she’d had to face the reality that they weren’t going to be able to stay PG, not after that first night – without making any… hasty decisions.

But when she’d arrived home from work, eager and wanting, so ready to see Regan after a long day of being apart from her, and Regan… hadn’t been here.

She’d been so – ridiculously – disappointed. Regan had sent her a text, informing her that she had to go and see her sister at the last minute, but Emma hadn’t seen it until she’d already arrived at their empty apartment.

And in that disappointment, in the too-quiet stillness of their apartment without Regan inside of it, Emma had far too much time to think.

She’d sat on the couch, trying to put something on tv to have some sound in the background… and all she’d thought about was the way she and Regan had ended up making out on the couch every night. She could see, so clearly, in her mind the different positions they’d found themselves in – Regan in her lap, the way they’d laid facing one another on their sides, the way Regan had pulled Emma to lay on top of her.

She’d groaned, forcing herself to get up, and – listlessly – had gone into her bedroom. Only to stare at the bed, thinking about her new bedtime routine. How she hadn’t read before she’d fallen asleep in almost a week, because she was, instead, fucking herself with Regan’s words and whimpers and moans in her ear.

She’d tried to keep a level head. She’d tried to tell herself that she should make them something for dinner. That she could get some reading done, now. That she could get a jumpstart on some emails for tomorrow.

All she’d managed to do was think more about Regan. About how the literal thought of Regan made Emma’s blood pulse, heavy and hot, through her veins.

The longer she’d sat in their apartment without Regan, the more Emma had been left… wanting. The more certain Emma had become that she didn’t want to wait any more.

Because – what were they really waiting for?

As Regan scratched down Emma’s back, before gripping her hips and pulling Emma flush against her, she knew without a fucking doubt that she’d made the best choice.

She arched against Regan, her whole body shivering with the feeling of their stomachs and breasts pressed together. “Fuck,” she groaned against Regan’s throat.

“I know,” Regan’s voice was so throaty as she nodded, desperately. “I need – off.”

She felt Regan reach between them, unsnapping the button on Emma’s pants, before jerking down the zipper. Unlike with her shirt coming completely off, Emma simply let Regan do it. Those reservations, that zip of insecurity, had been decimated by Regan’s undeniable arousal for her.

It made Emma’s mind spin, the way Regan wanted her. She knew without a single doubt that she’d never been desired this way in her life.

She felt Regan’s hands yank and tug down Emma’s pants and underwear – only low enough until Regan could completely slide her hands down and palm Emma’s ass.

“Oh my god,” Regan’s words were released with a whine, as she gripped and pulled Emma against her. “You – I–”

Emma’s eyes fluttered closed as she felt Regan dig her fingers into her ass, rocking Emma against her. In fairness, Emma didn’t need the encouragement; her hips were already, subconsciously, rolling against Regan’s.

“Bed,” Regan bit out, scratching her nails into Emma for a sharp, delightful moment that left Emma gasping for air, before she released her. “Get in my bed.”

Her words were a breathless command, and Emma was powerless to deny it. There was no part of her that wanted to deny it, in any way.

She breathed out a laugh – edgy and needy – as she rolled her eyes at Regan and slid her pants the rest of the way down her legs. “Well, if someone had taken my pants off completely…”

She trailed off, the teasing falling away from her lips and her mind, as Regan – without a hint of self-consciousness – hooked her thumbs into her own underwear and slid them down long, toned legs.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Emma’s gaze was affixed first to the center of Regan’s underwear, which was so wet, the material was basically fucking translucent. She wasn’t surprised, because Regan had urged Emma to touch her, already. She’d felt Regan’s arousal coat her fingertips already, but seeing it…

Swallowing thickly, Emma ran her eyes up Regan’s legs, between her thighs. Where she could see Regan dripping for her. Her thighs were wet, and Emma shuddered, clenching her own thighs together.

Regan wasted no time, stepping forward and pressing her hands against Emma’s shoulders to guide her backwards. “In. My. Bed,” she growled, dark eyes glinting up at Emma.

Something about that challenging look in Regan’s gaze hooked itself inside of Emma, gripping her tightly. With it, she tilted her head and reached down, sliding her hands down Regan’s sides. Beginning at the sides of her breasts – fine, yes, Regan was obviously right earlier; her chest was much smaller than Emma’s, but she fucking loved it. She loved that she could cup Regan in her palms and feel all of her – she slowly, firmly, worked down until she gripped the subtle flair of Regan’s waist.

“You. Aren’t. In. Charge. Of. Me,” she muttered back, narrowing her eyes.

They held each other’s gaze for a beat, and it felt so – them. It was all Emma could think. That this moment, this give-and-take, this felt so right.

Wrapped up in that feeling, she spun them and used her grip on Regan’s waist to push her down on the bed, first. Emma followed milliseconds later, laying her body completely on top of Regan’s, and they both moaned at the sensation of bare skin on bare skin.

Regan’s moan was louder, of course, and the fact that it was right here, right in Emma’s ear from Regan’s plush lips and not through the phone, had Emma whimpering.

Regan stroked her hands up Emma’s back, surging up to connect their lips in a blistering kiss as she spread her thighs widely, fitting Emma perfectly between them.

Immediately, she felt Regan’s hips roll into hers, intently. Searching.

“God, Em–” Regan breathed the words into her mouth, her fingers digging into Emma’s back, hard. “I need… I need.”

Emma was nodding already, because she needed, too.

She could feel how wet Regan was, how hot she was. Regan’s pussy pressed against Emma’s as she continued to try to find a rhythm and Emma’s mouth fell open on a silent cry.

It felt incredible to feel Regan like this, bare and unashamed and needy against her. She’d never felt anything like this before, and she rocked her hips down, hard.

It felt so good, so fucking good, but Emma knew neither of them would ever be able to come from it. They were both so wet, there was no friction, and –

Emma couldn’t wait.

She pushed herself up on one of her arms, working her other hand down between them. Sliding it down Regan’s body – between her breasts, over the soft, pale plane of her stomach, over her bellybutton, and then… she paused.

Heart in her throat, feeling like she was choking on the desperation to touch Regan, she darted her gaze up from her hand on Regan’s body to her face. Just to make sure –

And Regan met her gaze, nodding her head jerkily against the pillow. “Touch me. Fuck me. Emma, seriously, I need it. You have no idea.”

Her words – demands, really – were delivered on halting, panting sentences, and it was all Emma needed to slide her hand lower.

She brushed her fingers over Regan’s bare pussy for the first time, and Emma swore under her breath.

Regan swore out loud.

“Go inside, please. That’s – that’s what I want,” Regan informed her, her hips rocking down against Emma’s hand.

Still, she only worked her fingertips against Regan’s entrance. It was mesmerizing, intoxicating, wildly, insanely arousing to be wanted like this. To have Regan’s wetness coating her fingers, and she wasn’t even really inside of her, yet.

“I know that’s what you want,” she found herself saying, not even recognizing her own voice with how gravelly she sounded. Her throat felt raw, and she wondered how many sounds she’d already let out that she didn’t register. “I know, because you’ve told me every night.”

Holding her breath, she pushed two fingers inside of Regan. Moving her hand slowly, pushing deep inside of Regan, and she didn’t know what she wanted to watch more: her fingers, the way Regan arched her back, or the look of unadulterated relief on her face.

“You have no qualms about telling me what you want me to do to you. How you think about me touching you.” Emma pulled her fingers out just as slowly, before working them back in, feeling Regan clench tightly around her.

She didn’t even know where these words were coming from, honestly, because she’d never been much of a talker during sex. She’d have felt embarrassed, before; why did she need to talk, when her body was talking for her?

But she found, especially as she watched Regan’s mouth tremble open with her words, that she really liked this.

“Why should I have qualms?” Regan rasped back, unevenly. She reached up and toyed with her own nipples, and Emma’s throat went absolutely dry at the sight. “I’m not ashamed. I want you to know.”

Emma nodded as she started truly thrusting inside of Regan, now. Pulling out slowly, pushing in faster and harder. Setting a rhythm that Regan settled into in moments.

“I know, and that’s crazy to me. The way you want me, and how you want me to know.” She moved faster, now, working in a third finger when Regan gasped more.

Emma rolled her own hips down, desperately, into the bed. It didn’t do much for her, other than make her clit throb with an urgent and unfulfilled need, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Emma, fuck, my clit. Rub my clit – please!” Regan’s tone was a desperate plea, her breath hitching as she stared up at Emma with a dark, needy stare.

And Emma didn’t want to deny Regan. She wanted to give her whatever she needed, whatever she wanted, because more than anything, she wanted to feel and hear Regan come for her. She wanted to feel Regan pulse and throb around her fingers, to hear these moans right in her ear.

Just as breathless as Regan was, she buried her fingers inside of Regan as she slid her thumb up, rubbing at Regan’s achingly hard clit. So, so hard against her touch, and Emma dropped her head to Regan’s shoulder with a groan.

“Yes, yes!” Regan cried out, unabashedly, as she dug her nails into Emma’s back and stared up at her with bleary eyes. “I’m going to – I’m–”

Her back bowed up, those unfiltered sounds escaping her and surrounding Emma, as she felt Regan come for her.

She watched Regan closely as she worked her through her orgasm, feeling every single pulse around her fingers, every twitch of Regan’s clit. Emma’s own clit pulsed with the same answering rhythm, and she was so close to coming without being touched at all.

Even when Regan melted onto the bed, gasping for breath, she still rocked her hips jerkily down against Emma, trying to wring every last ounce of pleasure. It was the most Regan thing Emma could imagine, and fuck if it didn’t add to her own arousal.

Emma could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she stared down at Regan as she finally stilled, shuddering as she whispered, “Oh my god.”

She nodded back, because… yeah.

In the quickest rebound from an orgasm ever, Regan’s eyes met hers, and the blissed out look in them was rapidly replaced by something needier. Darker.

Before Emma could possibly prepare herself, Regan used the hand she’d had gripping Emma’s shoulder to push her onto her back.

Within seconds, Regan switched their positions, pushing herself up to sit astride Emma. She groaned, unable to help herself, as she felt Regan’s soaked core press against her hip, and her thighs shook with need.

Still, she felt dazed at the sight of Regan, who stared down at her, hungrily.

There was no other way to refer to that look in Regan’s dark eyes, as she trailed her eyes over Emma’s body splayed out for her. Over her breasts, her stomach…

And Emma didn’t even feel – for the first time in her life – the slightest discomfort at being laid so bare for someone. Every last inch of herself on display, every curve, every stretch mark, every everything.

How could she, when Regan was staring at her like she was a four-course meal, and she hadn’t eaten in days. Maybe weeks.

Trying to gather her wits – trying not to bed, demand, plead, order Regan to fucking touch her before she exploded – Emma managed out, “I know you’ve never–” She swallowed hard, a choked groan working out of her throat as Regan reached up and cupped both of Emma’s breasts, firmly rubbing her thumbs over Emma’s nipples.

Jesus… what had she been saying?

“That you’ve never been with a woman, before. So, I – Regan,” she grit out, exasperated and so turned on, she could feel herself dripping.

“Yes?” Regan asked, her voice light and teasingly innocent.

Emma glared as best as she could in her situation. “Don’t give me that yes.”

Regan flicked her thumbs over Emma’s nipples, before she rolled both of them between her fingers. Emma arched into the touch, feeling like she had a direct nerve between her nipples and her clit.

“I’m trying,” she paused, needing to gather herself. “To tell you… that you don’t have to do anything if you aren’t–”

Regan pinched her nipples, hard, making Emma cut herself off with a whimper as she desperately rolled her hips up.

“Emma, be real,” Regan’s voice had fallen to that low octave, that one that Emma could have never known existed, before the last week. The one that worked to drive her crazy. “I’m going to make you come, and I’m going to do it with my mouth.”

Emma’s lungs fucking burned as she tried to take in a deep breath. The very idea of that… it shot through her like liquid pleasure.

“You love my lips,” Regan continued, shifting her body and sliding down Emma’s. She held eye contact with Emma as she moved lower… lower.

Emma widened her thighs for her, not giving a shit that she seemed as eager as she was. She was more than eager.

Regan settled on her stomach on the mattress, running her hands up Emma’s thighs. “I already told you that I’ve thought about this, too.”

Of course, Regan would continue talking even now. Even as she leaned in and pressed her perfect mouth to Emma’s inner thigh, only inches from her pussy.

Emma’s groan was so deep, so guttural, it hurt as it worked out of her throat.

“Regan,” she moaned, encouraging and pent-up and reverent and wanting and… everything.

“I don’t need to have done this before to know that I can make you come really–” Regan leaned in, drawing a long lick with the flat of her tongue up Emma’s slit.

She couldn’t fucking breathe, the spiraling heat already starting to tightly coil inside of her.

“Really,” Regan whispered against Emma’s core, before working the tip of her tongue up over Emma’s weeping clit.

Emma was going to die.

“Hard,” Regan finished, and she didn’t give Emma another moment before she dove in.

Regan’s mouth – those lips she’d fixated on for far too long – wrapped around her clit, as Regan’s tongue lapped at it, and Emma reached down, sliding her hands into Regan’s hair. Needing that contact, needing to touch her, to feel grounded in some way.

Regan was making hungry, needy sounds against Emma, and she could feel the vibration of them.

Fuck. Holy –

Emma had never been brought to the brink so quickly in her life, but she was already there, already on the precipice of falling into her orgasm.

And she couldn’t make herself hold back, even if she wanted to.

Not when Regan’s mouth was on her like she would die if she had to take a breath, when it seemed like Regan was getting just as much from this as Emma was. Not when it was so, so true – Emma did love Regan’s fucking mouth, and her lips were so soft, and – and –

“Ah, ah–” Emma’s breath caught, before she gasped, and she came.

So. Fucking. Hard.

Her thighs shook, clenching around Regan’s head, and she gripped Regan’s soft hair in her hands like a lifeline, because she wasn’t sure she would survive this without it.

The pleasure that rolled through her was so blisteringly intense, and the only thing Emma could do was give herself over to it.

Regan didn’t pause, continuing to move her lips softly against Emma’s clit to work her through her orgasm and letting out those quiet whimpers of her own.

Eventually, Emma could feel the pleasure turn into a warning sensitivity, and she lightly tugged at Regan’s head. “I – no more,” she gasped, still unable to catch her breath.

Regan’s groan of disappointment was unmistakable, but she removed her mouth from Emma as requested and stared up from between Emma’s legs.

Her dark eyes were wide as she panted for breath, her cheeks flushed, and Emma could see herself coating Regan’s lips and chin. Unbelievably, after coming so hard she was still clenching every few seconds, she felt another stab of arousal at the sight.

“That was… amazing,” Regan’s voice was awed, as she blinked up at Emma.

“It was,” Emma agreed, softly. She slid her hand down to cup Regan’s jaw, brushing her thumb over that fantasy-inducing pouty bottom lip, feeling her own wetness. Regan followed her touch with her tongue, and… god, Regan really might be the death of her.

“I can’t wait to do it again.” An exuberant, excited smile slid over Regan’s face, and Emma felt a mirroring one tug at her lips.

“Okay, eager beaver–”

Regan scoffed out a laugh.

Emma rolled her eyes, even as she couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Just get up here, please.”

Regan pushed herself up and essentially hopped into her place at Emma’s side, and she could feel Regan vibrating with renewed energy.

Emma turned onto her own side to really look at Regan, drawing her eyes down Regan’s face as Regan draped an arm over Emma’s side.

“This is crazy,” she whispered, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up her throat at this reality.

She was having sex with Regan fucking Gallagher, and it was the best sex of her life, and she felt so comfortable here with her – more than she’d ever felt with another person – and…

“What?” Regan demanded to know, arching an eyebrow. “We’re laying here, naked, after we just had the best sex of our lives – fine, an assumption, but the best sex of my life – and you’re laughing?”

There was no real affront in her voice, and Emma… she could only shake her head.

It was absurd, but it was true. So wildly true.

“Keep it up, Bordeaux, keep it up,” Regan murmured, as she surged up to press her mouth to Emma’s again.

***

Emma knew she should probably be asleep.

It was after midnight and she had work in the morning, and her body was deliciously sore after the last several hours in Regan’s bed.

And yet… she hadn’t yet found the fortitude to drag herself away from the evening with Regan.

A first for her, because Emma had never in her life not followed her internal rules around going to sleep at an appropriate time for school or work. She took those things very seriously, and did not mess around with them.

She would go to sleep soon, she idly thought, even though she wasn’t quite sure she believed herself.

Even though she should be exhausted, she wasn’t. Even though Regan had worked her through another orgasm, and she’d fucked Regan twice more, she wasn’t tired. Rather, she was wired.  

She sat leaning back against Regan’s headboard, as Regan had gotten up the energy to go and put their plates from the pizza they’d eventually gotten around to ordering in the kitchen. And she felt so… content.

She liked Regan’s room. She liked the plants in here, how fresh and vibrant it felt. How comfortable Regan’s mattress and sheets were.

Regan’s phone vibrating on the bedside table cut into her thoughts, and Emma peered over at it, wondering who in the world was calling Regan after midnight.

And, ah. A nervous shiver worked through her as she saw Sutton on the incoming FaceTime call.

“Who is that?” Regan asked as she walked through the doorway, her hands falling to her hips. “I swear, if it’s the café and someone called out tonight, I’m going to–”

“It’s Sutton,” she interrupted, tilting her head to the phone next to her. “She’s requesting a video call.”

Regan – standing a few feet from the bed, wearing Emma’s discarded button-up that was too big for her and all wrinkled – blinked back at her for several seconds, before simply saying, “Oh.”

Regan’s eyebrows furrowed, obviously conflicted, as she shook her head. “Um, just – you can just… reject it.” She cleared her throat, her lips pulling into a small frown. “I can call her back in the morning.”

Emma frowned back at her, her own stomach twisting with discomfort. Both at the clear distress Regan was feeling at concealing this from Sutton, as well as her own discomfort.

It was the first time Emma had felt like this, had experienced this niggling guilt about Sutton knowing nothing about what was happening between them. Sutton was a good friend to her, she’d never done anything to make Emma feel like she wouldn’t be there for her.

And more than that, Sutton meant the world to Regan. She didn’t want to be – refused to be, actually – the one thing in Regan’s adult life that she felt she needed to keep from her best friend.

So, even though she still felt a little nervous – because the future was unknown, and she valued Sutton’s friendship, and she didn’t want anything to feel weird, ever – she glanced down at herself, making sure that she had Regan’s sheet pulled up securely over her chest. Yep. She was going to do this.

With a deep breath, she braced herself for whatever reaction might be coming her way, and answered Sutton’s call.

Sutton stared back at her from her own bed, looking as though she’d barely properly woken up before she’d called Regan. “Hey, I–”

Sutton abruptly cut herself off, confusion sliding across her face. “Emma! I’m so sorry.” She reached up, carding a hand through her long, sleep-tousled red hair, as a small, apologetic smile tugged at her lips. “I thought I’d called Regan, but I guess I’m less awake than I thought.”

Emma glanced at Regan, who was still standing a few feet away from the bed, staring at her with luminous, wide, questioning eyes.

“You did call her,” Emma confirmed, pushing through that uncertainty. Through the twisting feeling that she was revealing too much of herself. This was Sutton, she firmly told herself, there was nothing she really needed to keep private from her, even if that demand for privacy inside of Emma still remained in the back of her head.

It was time to push past that.

Sutton’s eyebrows knit together. “Um… okay?” She stared at Emma, obviously puzzled. “Did you accidentally swap phones or something?”

“No.” Emma shook her head, but hesitated before any other words could leave her mouth. Where did she possibly even begin to tell Sutton about what had happened this summer?

Sutton got the conversation started for her. She squinted at the phone critically, leaning in closer. “Wait a second. Wait. Is that – that’s Regan’s headboard? And her purple sheet?” Sutton sat up sharply, her face so close to the screen that Emma’s view of her was obstructed, as if Sutton were trying to crawl through the phone to investigate. “Why are you in Regan’s room? Did you kill her and take over her space?”

Her tone was only slightly joking, but more urgently alarmed than anything, and Emma reeled back, unsure if she was more amused or offended. “What? Are you serious? No!”

Sutton still didn’t look convinced. “With your track record with Regan, can you blame me?”

Emma glanced at Regan, gesturing helplessly at the phone in her hand to wordlessly ask Regan to do something, here. It seemed that was the only encouragement Regan needed.

“I’m alive,” Regan confirmed, sounding breathlessly excited as she quickly crawled back into bed, slotting into the spot next to Emma. Their shoulders pressed firmly together, and Regan’s face joined Emma’s on the phone, to provide visual confirmation for Sutton. She grinned, beautifully and brightly, waving at Sutton. “Hey, babe!”

“Hey…?” Sutton drew out, slowly, leaning back from her phone, but her eyes didn’t leave the screen. As if she couldn’t quite connect the dots of what was being presented to her.

Because, presented to Sutton, was a very obvious picture. Emma stared, surprisingly fixated on their image together in the corner of the screen. They were both flushed with that post-sex glow that Emma had always rolled her eyes about. But it was real, and she saw it right now. Both of their hair was mussed, and it was very clear that hands had been gripping and pulling. They looked so… relaxed.

Which wasn’t weird for Regan. Who looked relaxed almost always.

Emma was far more fascinated by how she looked. Leaning into Regan, she looked so… at-ease. More than that, she felt it.

Strange, how someone with so much energy, who was so vibrant, made Emma feel so calm. Yet, here they were, and her heart beat a little harder, a little faster at it.

Not the time to dive into that.

Clearing her throat, she refocused her attention on Sutton.

Who’d remained silent for nearly a minute, now, and Emma didn’t know if she’d ever seen someone look so baffled in her entire life.

Finally, Sutton spluttered out, “You don’t own anything that remotely looks like that shirt.”

Clearly in reference to Regan, as Emma… wasn’t wearing one.

Regan looked down at herself, before turning back to Sutton as she insisted, “Hey, I could have bought this!”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Sutton’s eyes narrowed to little slits, as she looked between the two of them, shaking her head. “I… what the hell is going on over there? I need you to just – explain.” She reached up and rubbed her fingers over her forehead, roughly. “Because what it looks like isn’t – there’s no way…”

Emma could feel the way Regan inhaled, deeply, and held her breath, and she turned to look at her.

Regan was already watching Emma, her gaze questioning and thoughtful and sweet, and Emma’s chest filled with warmth at it.

Yeah. It was unbelievable to her, too, and she was living it. So, she couldn’t blame Sutton’s incredulity.

“It is what it looks like,” she confirmed, quietly, turning her attention back to look at the phone.

Her stomach flip-flopped as the anticipation slid through her, because she honestly was clueless as to how Sutton would react to this. Sutton was protective over Regan, Emma knew that was true. She knew how staunchly Emma had pushed against Regan. And… well, she’d never even come out to Sutton on her own, before.

This moment really hit a lot of boxes for her.

That anxiety calmed, as she felt Regan’s hand land gently on top of Emma’s free hand where she’d had it clenched into a fist against her thigh. Instinctively, she flipped her palm upward to interlock their fingers.

“No,” Sutton slowly drew out, making the short word last several syllables. “Because what it looks like is that you two are… that you just…”

“Had sex,” Regan supplied, the words bursting from her lips, and Emma was truthfully shocked it had taken this long.

“And we did. Have sex,” Regan confirmed needlessly, as she squeezed Emma’s hand in hers, vibrating with that bountiful energy.

“You what?!” Sutton gasped, her eyes widening in shock in spite of having stared at them in bed together for the last two minutes.

“We had sex,” Regan repeated, the pride in her voice was loud and clear. Like she wanted to puff out her chest and strut around, shouting it from the rooftops. Since this was Regan, it was quite possible she did.

Emma couldn’t help but smile at it – why did she find that so charming? – even as she closed her eyes in wait for Sutton’s response.

Sutton was silent for so long, though, that Emma opened her eyes in concern that she’d hung up on them.

But, no. Sutton was still there. Staring at her phone with her mouth hanging open, very clearly unable to form words.

The great news for all of them in this moment, was that Regan so rarely struggled with words.

“I know – you’re shocked,” Regan jumped in to fill the void. “And I totally get it; I was shocked, too! I mean, not tonight. This has kind of been building. But I was shocked when I realized I was attracted to Emma. You know, since we didn’t know I was into women.”

Sutton finally managed to speak. “And when was that?” She asked, still sounding so shell-shocked.

Emma couldn’t blame her.

Regan’s bright smile dimmed ever-so-slightly, as she winced. “Um… a while ago? Earlier this summer?”

Sutton shook her head, clearly trying to make sense of the information she was being given. “And Emma? You’re into women, too? Obviously?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, pushing herself to be as open and honest as possible. “Though, I’ve known for a lot longer than this summer.”

Sutton blew out a breath. “Sure. Right.” Unsurprisingly, her attention turned back to Regan, a frown etched into her face. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve been working through this for weeks – months? – and you didn’t tell me?”

The confusion and hurt in her voice were undeniable, and she felt Regan’s hand tighten on hers.

“I wanted to tell you,” Regan said, with obvious guilt. Emma could feel the tension that worked through Regan’s body. “I really wanted to tell you, but…” Regan worried at her bottom lip, clearly conflicted and a little distressed. “I didn’t want to add to your plate, and I didn’t want to stress you out, and–”

“You’re my best friend! I’ve been way more stressed thinking that something terrible was going on for over a month,” Sutton refuted, her tone inarguably steely, while still keeping that gentle edge she was so good at. “You were there for me every step of the way when I was figuring my sexuality out – sometimes, too much. I…” She rolled her lips, that wounded expression still on her face as she trailed off.

“I’m sorry,” Regan’s apology burst out, and her remorse was written all over her face. “I’m really sorry.”

Sutton shook her head, as she stated, firmly, “I don’t want to make this about me; because this isn’t about me. I just… I’m – trying to figure out how to process.”

Emma squeezed Regan’s hand in support as she explained, “She didn’t tell you because she knew I kept my own personal life so… guarded. And even though I wouldn’t have been upset if she went to her best friend for support,” she emphasized, needing Regan to know that was the truth. She turned to look at Regan as she said it, hoping Regan would be able to see how much she meant it. “She did it out of respect for me.”

Yeah, that warm feeling filled her chest, again, and only grew bigger and stronger, at the tremulous smile that worked over Regan’s face.

“Okay…” Sutton drew out. “I, conceptually, understand what you’re saying. But… this…” She gestured at the two of them. Finally, she huffed out a breath and rolled her shoulders, as if forcing herself to get with the program. “So. You’re having sex.”

“Tonight was the first time… mostly,” Regan supplied, sounding both hopeful and apologetic. “I’ll tell you everything – because it’s been a wild summer! – but you have to know that I would have told you if we were, like, in a real, official relationship.”

At that, Sutton pursed her lips, a glint sparking in her eyes. “I see. This isn’t a relationship, then?”

Emma didn’t understand that tone; she didn’t think she’d ever heard it before.

Regan groaned, though. “Why are you using Katherine Spencer voice on me?”

“I’m not,” Sutton denied, but the voice was still there. “I’m just asking if this is a relationship. Because if you two are deciding to embark on some friends-with-benefits thing that could get really messy, then I’m not sure I want all of the details.”

Regan scoffed. “Rich coming from you.” She arched a look at Sutton.

Emma couldn’t help but laugh.

Sutton blushed faintly, even as she remained firm in her stance. “Yes, ha-ha, fine. But if you two are doing something without any strings and are trying to keep things… light, then – for the sake of my friendship with you both – I’m not sure how much I should get into it.”

That tone remained, and Emma didn’t know why, but she got the distinct impression that Sutton was directing it at her?

She frowned, stomach twisting, as she stared back at Sutton. And, yes, they were communicating via video chat, but, “Are you looking at me, specifically?” She demanded to know, because it really seemed that was what was happening.

“Yes,” Sutton confirmed, easily.

“Why?” Emma frowned, feeling very put on the spot. “We’re both doing this.”

“Because even on a phone call from across the Atlantic, I can read Regan like a book,” Sutton informed her, and her tone gentled as she glanced at Regan. Slowly, she drew her gaze back to Emma. “It’s – clearly – harder for me to read you. I mean. Obviously, this attraction is new. And I know how… tenuous things were in the beginning of this arrangement, so–”

“The attraction isn’t new,” Emma found herself stating, even as a rush of heat hit her cheeks.

She could see Regan’s slow, sweet smile bloom, even as Sutton’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “Ah… huh.”

“I think,” Emma paused, her heart beating a little harder in her chest as her nerves buzzed to life. “It was always a lot easier – safer – for me to focus on any possible negative about Regan, so that I never gave myself the opportunity of feeling anything more, that I wasn’t ready to feel.”

She slowly turned to look at Regan, who was staring at her with those big, brown eyes. Those eyes that searched Emma’s, amazed and thrilled, and Emma could only look right back and let Regan see whatever she was looking for.

Because that was the truth.

A distressing truth that Emma had to accept in the last month.

“Oh, wow. Okay,” Sutton breathed, regaining both of their attention. “So, this is a thing, then. This is a real… relationship?”

Emma felt Regan’s hand tighten in hers.

“I mean, uh, I was serious, Sutton, when I said this was the first time we’ve slept together.” Regan breathed out a slightly nervous laugh, shooting Emma a look. “We don’t need to–”

“It’s a relationship,” Emma interjected, as her stomach recoiled at the idea that it wasn’t.

She turned to look at Regan, capturing her gaze with a steady, serious look.

“To me, this is a real relationship. I wouldn’t want to do this,” she gestured between them. “If it wasn’t. I have real-girlfriend feelings for you,” she echoed Regan’s sentiment, when Regan had laid her cards on the table.

But – she needed Regan to know that. And she needed to make sure her own cards were laid out, too.

“I don’t want you to be on dating apps. Or sleeping with anyone else,” she recalled from the night Regan had told her that all Emma had to do was say it if she wanted this.

Regan quickly shook her head. “No, neither – uh, I mean, no. Me, neither. For both of us.”

Satisfied, even as she felt exhilarated and a little scared, and definitely a little embarrassed at the fact that Sutton had witnessed this very personal moment between them, Emma exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Wow. Just – all right. Wow,” Sutton muttered, staring at them as if she’d never seen them, before. “So, this is what’s been going on over there.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Regan announced, sounding delighted and shocked. She slid her bare leg along Emma’s, clearly unable to keep still. “A real one, now.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh, and…

She had a girlfriend – a real one, now.

“I’m sorry. What?” Sutton pressed.

Regan opened her mouth to start talking, and Emma could see how the excited explanation was ready to fall from her lips. Before she paused, looking at Emma for full permission to spill the beans.

Endeared, she nodded, inviting Regan to tell Sutton everything. It was about time, it seemed.

“The craziest thing happened,” Regan started, and Emma leaned back against the headboard, gazing at her.

Everything felt surreal, but… not.

She was in a real relationship with this woman.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Regan – 5:37PMBeth dropped an entire pot of coffee today. Literally SHATTERED the glass. It’s great for me, because she’s officially taken over as the most accident-prone person at the shop

Regan – 5:37PMI saw that guy on the subway, the one that tried to give me a ferret that one time. No ferrets, anymore, though. Wonder what happened to them all

Regan – 5:38PMOH and the biggest update is that I found this vibrator online that we tried out last night and when I tell you that they really mean MUTUAL PLEASURE – I’ll send you the link

Sutton, the One and Only – 5:38PMWhen I said that I didn’t need you to “make it up to me” I meant it. Really, I don’t need the update on what time you peed this morning. I promise.

Regan – 5:38PMAre you sure? Because I am HAPPY to tell you. EVERYTHING

Regan – 5:38PMI don’t want you to worry that I replaced you with Charlotte this summer

She chuckled, utterly amused with herself for that one. Now that Sutton was in the know about everything since their conversation nearly two weeks ago, Regan had made it a point to text and call Sutton much more regularly. Now that she didn’t feel like she had to keep any secrets or had any uncertainty about her relationship with Emma –

Because they were in a relationship! –

It was great! She got to gush about everything to Sutton. To ask her advice. To tell her about how it felt so… perfect, like things just made sense for her, now.

Being able to talk to Sutton and really talk to her, the way she was used to, had soothed over the only remaining stress she’d had weighing on her.

And she got to do that because Emma was her girlfriend, by Emma’s own admission!

Sutton, the One and Only – 5:39PMBelieve me, I don’t feel replaced

Regan snickered again, thinking about the relieved FINALLY message she’d received from Charlotte the morning after she’d confessed everything to Sutton.

Regan – 5:39PMI’m not relieving Charlotte of her friend duties, though. I hope she still knows that

Sutton, the One and Only – 5:39PMYou know, I actually think she likes it. Don’t tell her I said that

Regan – 5:40PMKeeping secrets from your girlfriend AND telling me things she wouldn’t want to tell me, herself?! Sutton, now that we are both relationship women, I think we both know that’s not good…

Sutton, the One and Only – 5:40PMOh my god

Sutton, the One and Only – 5:40PMOn that note, I’m going to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning <3

Regan – 5:40PMI’ll tell you what I had for dinner and what time I go to sleep, in the meantime…. :)

Sutton, the One and Only – 5:40PMI’m blessed, truly. GOODNIGHT

Regan – 5:41PMGoodnighttttttttt

It was the perfect time for Sutton to bow out and go to sleep, really, because Regan had just turned down her hallway. She’d been at work for a long Saturday shift – she’d had to open this morning – and she was ready to discard her phone and bury herself in Emma for the night.

Emotionally, and – later – literally.

She looked up as she fished out her keys, and then froze in place, mid-step.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she shook her head – was she… hallucinating? She, admittedly, hadn’t slept for more than five hours per night for the last week and a half, but she didn’t think that was such a small amount that she’d start hallucinating from it.

In her defense, it was very, very difficult to force herself to go to sleep when she had Emma in her bed!

Regan had always loved sex. The closeness and connection, the indulgent pleasure of it. She loved expressing her affection for people with physical touch, loved leaning into people’s energies, and sex was the ultimate form of that.

But her past experiences paled in comparison to this.

She had a whole new world to explore with Emma. She had a body that Regan really did feel very strongly could have been the perfect model for a classic sculptor, and Regan hadn’t tired in the least in wanting to touch and taste her, everywhere. Sometimes to Emma’s chagrin. But, in fairness, Emma seemed to feel the same way for her.

Even when she tried to act like she had more self-control or like she wasn’t just as desperate as Regan was for their moments together, Regan could see the flush on her cheeks and the way her eyes lingered.

Pfft. Emma tried to play herself off all gruff and cool sometimes, still, but Regan knew better, now.

And she loved that.

Yes, okay, she was probably hallucinating, because she’d been too caught up in Emma lately – too caught up in the excitement, in something so good – that her mind wanted to remind her that there were some downsides to life, still. Before Regan got so filled with bright, fun times and simply floated away.

 Blinking her eyes open, she found that – nope. The sight in front of her remained. Isaac and Dierdre Gallagher remained standing in front of her, their pinched expressions the same as Regan could always conjure up in her head.

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” She asked, confused and a little scared, honestly. “Did someone die?”

Oh, god. Who could have died that was so important her parents needed to come and find her to tell her in person?! Audrey?

Her mother pursed her lips, shooting a dark look toward Regan’s apartment. Following her gaze, she realized that the door was open, and Emma was standing there.

Her arms crossed over her prodigious chest, with a stubbornly serious glare that mirrored Regan’s parents’ expressions. Huh. Wow.

Regan remembered that look! It was crazy, really, to think that she’d so often been on the receiving end of a similar expression, because she hadn’t seen that look on Emma’s face in months.

“We’d intended to see your home.” Her mother sniffed, haughtily, and gestured at Emma. “But when we arrived this woman – your… roommate? – refused to let us in.”

“They arrived less than two minutes ago,” Emma interjected, her tone exacting and sharp. “It’s not like it’s been an hour.”

Baffled, Regan took a few steps closer. Only to stop as soon as she was within a few feet of her parents, feeling that awful, heavy sensation in her chest – like she was the world’s biggest failure and disappointment – that only her parents knew how to bring out in her with just a look.

And, boy oh boy, were they giving her the look. A look she was, also, more than familiar with.

“But what are you doing here?” She repeated, because that comment hadn’t really explained anything. “You never come here when you’re in the city.”

She knew her parents traveled to New York at least once or twice a year, coming to see shows, meet up with friends, have weekend getaways; they’d done it since she was a kid. She imagined they’d likely been in Manhattan a lot more frequently in the last year, too, since helping to plan Audrey’s wedding.

But they never came to see her. If anything, they’d extend an invitation to join them and Audrey for dinner, but even that was a rare occurrence. The only time Regan was guaranteed to see her parents in a calendar year was over the holidays. So, this? Unprecedented and disconcerting.

Her father exhaled, impatiently. “We just had an early dinner with your sister. We hadn’t even planned on coming into the city this weekend, but she insisted that she had to talk to us in person.” He arched her a look. “Do you have anything you want to take accountability for?”

Confusion growing by the second – and that feeling inside of her, like she was the world’s worst person, multiplied with it. God, how did they do that so well? – Regan slowly shook her head. “Um… no?”

She hadn’t even spoken to Audrey in nearly two weeks, since the wine bar. So why in the world was she on the receiving end of their accusing stares?!

“Typical,” her father muttered.

Ugh, Regan’s stomach twisted, and she felt her shoulders slump at the tone. Still, she did her best to respond and push past the feeling, as it was the only coping mechanism she’d ever figured out in this kind of situation. Push through as fast as possible, so it could all be over. “I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

“Audrey told us that she’s no longer planning to marry Armando,” her mother informed her, in that classic icy tone she had.

Regan’s mouth fell open, shock rushing through her. “For real?”

“Yes, for real,” her mom echoed, disdainfully.

“Wow! That’s wild.” Regan should text her! Damn, she hadn’t seen that coming at all.

Before she could go too far down that mental rabbit hole, though, she looked back at her parents, quizzically.

“Um… so, what does this have to do with me?” She slowly asked, pointing at herself. “Shouldn’t you be taking this up with, like, Armando?”

After all, he seemed to be the cause of Audrey’s unhappiness.

Her father – in his long-sleeved button-up, tie, and well-ironed slacks, despite the fact that it was the end of August, and the humid heat was still among them – pursed his lips. “Audrey – very atypical for her – was unable to give us a succinct explanation as to why she wants to try to call off the wedding. What she did tell us, throughout a ramble that was much more befitting of you than her, is that you are the only person she’s talked to about this, and that you encouraged this behavior.”

Regan shook her head quickly. “No! Well. I mean – yeah? But, only because she told me that she was unhappy, so–”

“So, you did tell her to call it off,” her mother interrupted, eyes narrowing to a glare. “Why am I not surprised? Despite the fact that all of our friends and associates are invited to the wedding, despite the fact that we’ve already paid tens of thousands in nonrefundable deposits.”

Regan crossed her arms over herself, tightly, as she set her jaw in defense. “Audrey’s an adult! She can make her own choices – she should make her own choices, about who to marry.”

“Out of all of the things you’ve done to embarrass this family, you have never tried to drag your sister down to your level.” Her father always had this way of speaking – so quietly, but Regan swore she’d be able to hear his voice cut through the loudest crowd – with his tone being so scornful…

Yeah, even now, it made Regan feel about two feet small.

“You can’t come here and talk to her like that,” Emma cut in, her tone hard as steel.

Regan turned to stare at Emma so quickly, she felt like she had whiplash from the movement. Frankly, in the last five minutes, she’d forgotten that Emma had been standing there.

Her parents – despite all of the work Regan had done around managing her feelings regarding them – still had the ability to make her feel like she was a ten-year-old getting punished. Like her world was just that small.

“This is none of your business,” her mother authoritatively stated to Emma. “And it’s very rude to interfere in family matters that are none of your concern.”

“It’s also very rude to show up to your daughter’s apartment and treat her like dirt when she hasn’t done anything wrong,” Emma shot back, staring down at Regan’s mom.

Oh. Even when Regan had been on the receiving end of Emma’s ire, she’d never been looked at like that. The way Emma stared at Regan’s parents was very distinctly the same way she’d stare at a bug she’d just squashed. Absolutely disgusted.

Before either of her parents could say anything, Emma rolled on, “And I don’t care if you don’t think it’s my business; you’re saying it right in front of my face. I happen to know that Regan is sweet, and thoughtful, and a hell of a lot kinder than either of you seem to be.”

Regan felt her heart skip a beat, and her breath caught in her throat, as she stared at Emma. Did Emma actually have a halo, or was it just the way she seemed to appear to Regan?

Emma turned to look at her, and the stone-cold look in her eyes immediately softened, as she tilted her head. “Come on. You’ve been at work all day, you should be able to come home and relax.”

Even though she didn’t look away from Regan as she spoke, she hard edge in her voice was so pointedly directed at Regan’s parents.

It was as though that had been precisely what Regan needed. For some reason, she’d needed that to kick her into gear, to make her push forward and brush by her parents so she could enter her apartment.

Emma pushed the door open wider for her but didn’t step back herself – much to Regan’s delight. She brushed against Emma as she stepped in, hesitating for a moment as she turned to look up at her parents.

“Maybe if you actually listened to Audrey, you’d have heard why she’s not getting married to Armando, and the fact that it has nothing to do with me.”

She felt like she was finally able to take a deep breath for the first time since this whole… thing… started, especially as she was breathing in Emma.

Gripping the doorknob in her hand, she arched them a look, and she felt so emboldened, so ready to look them in the eye as she said, “Also, Emma isn’t just my roommate; she’s also my girlfriend.”

Immediately, she saw her parents’ eyes widen, and that was all she needed.

She shut the door on them, satisfaction slotting through her with a rush, as she stared at the closed door for several seconds. She’d actually just done that!

Even when she’d gone against what her parents wanted and expected from her, she’s always just… ignored them. Waited out their commentary, and rolled through it.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she breathed, exhilaration still rushing through her as she turned to look at Emma, her eyes wide.

Emma’s jaw was still set, tight and angry, as she looked down at Regan. “I can’t believe they have the audacity to show up here, like that!” She gestured to the door, scoffing in obvious disgust. “They came here to seek you out, so they could talk to you like you’re a misbehaving child?”

Those electric blue eyes closed, as Emma lightly shook her head and took in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, if you felt like I overstepped, thou–”

Before Emma could finish that statement, Regan surged up and tossed her arms around Emma. She wrapped her into a hug, slotting her body against Emma’s in a way she was so familiar with and still, it gave her a rush. It was like the ultimate comfort, like there was no better feeling. Especially when she felt Emma’s arms slide around her waist and hold her right back.

“No one’s ever done that for me, before,” she whispered, and – huh. Her throat felt thick with emotion as she spoke.

Closing her eyes, she didn’t loosen her hold on Emma, not at all. Not giving a single inch, as she leaned her head against Emma’s, gripping the shirt Emma wore in tight fists.

The backs of her eyes burned with tears, but they weren’t sad, and her heart was pounding in her chest, and she breathed in deeply through her nose, wanting to feel surrounded by Emma.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice thick. “Thanks for not letting them in. And for saying what you said.”

Emma squeezed her waist, as she spoke softly back, “I mean, this is why it is very important to know who is persona non grata to your roommates.”

Breathing out a chuckle, Regan nuzzled in closer to Emma, brushing the tip of her nose against the soft skin of her neck. “You’re right.”

Keeping her eyes closed, she whispered, “I want to tell you something, and I don’t want it to freak you out, and I really don’t want it to change anything we have going on between us. I really, really mean it – I don’t want anything to be different, but I need you to know, okay?”

She loved that Emma hadn’t released her, or even attempted to loosen this hold. She loved that Emma seemed just as content in this moment as she was.

She could feel Emma slowly nod. “Okay?”

Regan paused – for this one, heart-pounding moment – as nerves and excitement and comfort tangled together inside of her. Could Emma feel how hard her heart was beating?

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” There. The words were out in the open, rather than just circling around in Regan’s mind before she fell asleep with Emma at night, and… it felt right.

In fact, as soon as she said it, everything inside of her settled. Even as she felt Emma’s surprised, sharp inhale.

Still, Regan didn’t pull back from their embrace and didn’t let Emma pull away, either. Even when Emma’s arms went slightly slack around her.

“Now, I’m saying pretty sure, because I’ve never been in love before, so I don’t have anything concrete to compare this feeling to,” she explained, pausing to press a brief kiss to Emma’s shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. “But the way I feel about you is exactly what I’d imagined being in love with someone would be like. Only better.”

“Regan…” Emma’s murmur of her name was halting, and throaty, and so quiet, Regan was fairly certain she only heard her because Emma’s mouth was right next to her ear.

She shook her head, intently. “I know it’s a little soon. I mean… kind of. I’ve known you for years, and we’ve shared an apartment for months, and I know everything about you, including your obsessive calendaring habits and the way you like to roll the toothpaste from the bottom of the tube–”

“It’s the right way,” Emma countered, sounding dazed, but – of course – she wasn’t going to not make the comment.

And, yeah, Regan loved that. Her lips pulled into a smile, as she smoothed her hands down Emma’s back, reveling in the touch.

“Anyway, I know it’s technically kind of soon, as in we’ve only been dating officially for a few weeks. And I know you take more time to process your feelings than I do. So, I don’t need you to say it back to me.” She narrowed her eyes in thought, and, “Honestly, I’d rather you didn’t. Not that I think you would ever say something of this magnitude unless you really felt it, but… that’s not why I’m telling you.”

“It’s not,” Emma faintly echoed, her breath warm against Regan’s ear.

“No. I’m telling you because I want you to know how I feel. I like to be able to tell you everything.” With that, Regan took in another deep breath of Emma’s scent, pressed one more kiss to the side of her throat, and pulled back enough to look up at Emma’s face.

Which, to her credit, didn’t look like Emma was going to run for the hills, so that was great! Regan would take it.

Feeling a wide smile break over her face, Regan rocked up to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Emma’s lips. Something soft but full. A greeting and gratitude and an I love you! in a brief moment.

She pulled back, gently sliding her hands down Emma’s arms. She wondered if Emma knew she was still gripping Regan’s waist, or if it was just reflex, as she tried to sort through her thoughts after Regan’s confession.

Studying Emma’s face, the sharp planes and gentle curves of it – Regan felt an easy calm take a hold of her, reaffirming everything. “Yeah. I love you.”

Emma’s face flushed as soon as Regan said the words, and she was absolutely delighted by the way Emma seemed shocked and pleased and hesitant and so unsure of how to respond.

That was her Emma.

Regan reached up to stroke her fingertips over Emma’s jaw. “Don’t freak out, please.”

“I’m not,” Emma answered immediately, frowning down at Regan. “I’m just – thinking.”

“Okay,” Regan accepted, tilting her head up at her. “I mean, you had to know this would be how this moment would go.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know.” Regan arched an incredulous look up at her. “I kissed you, first. I told you I was attracted to you, first. I told you I had feelings for you, first. I got you to agree to go on a date.” She shrugged, easily. “Me telling you that I love you first is the next step.”

Emma’s eyebrows knit tightly together indignantly and she shook her head. “What about the fact that I initiated us having sex first? Doesn’t that count for something?”

Regan found her self-righteousness ridiculously cute.

“Only because I was respecting your boundaries and not initiating sex until you were ready! If you hadn’t wanted to take things slower, I would have dragged you into my bed after our first date.” Regan dared Emma to disagree; she knew she had the upper hand, here.

Emma’s lips pulled into a pouting frown. “You can’t prove that.”

“The comeback queen,” Regan teased.

“I thought you were in love with me,” Emma groused. “Doesn’t that mean you should be nicer to me?”

“I’m sorry. How about I go down on you until you can’t remember that I ever teased you?” She offered, biting her lip as she looked up at Emma through her eyelashes.

And – fuck, she’d been saying it as a tease, but as soon as she voiced it, the very idea of that offer zipped through Regan like a wildfire.

Making Emma come in her mouth had been Regan’s favorite discovery and was quickly becoming her favorite pastime. She had a very busy and active mouth, and what better way to put it to use?

It was also the most effective way she believed she would ever have to rendering Emma into a an agreeable puddle, and Regan was absolutely in love with that.

Emma’s mouth fell open with a trembling breath, her pupils dilating, and Regan was ready to drop to her knees right here and now. She wanted to, viscerally, especially on the heels of her love confession. On the heels of Emma sticking up to Regan’s parents on her behalf.

Yes, after the last twenty minutes, Regan was fairly certain she wasn’t going to be sated tonight until she’d rendered Emma a shaking, whimpering mess.

Slowly arching her eyebrow, she started to dip down to her knees…

Only to find herself stopped, as Emma reached out, her hands landing on Regan’s shoulders. “Wait. Stop. I…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clearly gathering her wits. “I do think that sounds incredibly appealing.”

Her voice was low as she slid one of her hands up and rubbed her thumb over Regan’s bottom lip, the touch sending tingles down Regan’s spine.

Emma shook her head. “But, today has been – a lot. You worked all day, you accepted an offer to make that cake for Kimberly’s neighbor’s party, your parents, and then you – um, you telling me…” Emma rolled her lips, cheeks turning an attractive shade of pink. “Let’s take a breather. You and me, on the non-defiled couch, and just – let me have a few minutes with you and decompress.”

Regan’s heart stuttered in her chest, as she nodded up at Emma. “I’d like that.”

She reached out, interlacing their fingers together, and feeling the whirlwind of emotions she’d been through in a very short period of time today, calm.

Emma operated at a three, and she operated at a seven, and the two of them together gravitated toward a five, and Regan thought that was good for her.

“To be clear, though, I’m going to get to celebrate my being in love with you by making you come in my mouth later?” She asked, dead seriously, as they walked toward the couch.

“It’s literally going to be my pleasure.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

spoiler prevention!

.

.

.

.

.

.