Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(64)
Author: A.L. Jackson

On my third trip to the kitchen, I heard the rattle of keys, the slide of metal, and a rush of laughter as it flooded the room. I popped the cap from the fresh bottle of beer and tossed it aside as I moved to lean with my forearm against the archway to watch Natalie wobble in, giggling with Elizabeth who was close behind. Matthew fol owed them in, shaking his head in what appeared to be slight amusement, his hands ful of gift bags.

I couldn’t help but grin.

Matthew glanced in my direction and rol ed his eyes when Elizabeth and Natalie fel into another fit of laughter and looked back at them with unquestionable affection. “I think our girls may have had a bit too much to drink tonight,” he said while setting the bags aside.

Natalie held onto the back of the couch and tried to regain her balance in the ridiculously high-heeled boots she wore, laughing as she accused, “You’re just mad ‘cause you were DD.”

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his waist, kissed his cheek. “No, seriously, thank-you for driving, Matt. I had a great time.”

She grinned up at him as he kissed her atop her head.

“No problem, Liz. Happy birthday.”

Natalie laughed for what seemed no reason at all and swayed in the middle of the floor.

“Whoa there.” Matthew was immediately behind her, supporting her as he drew her back to his chest. He hugged her and splayed his hands over her stomach as he hooked his chin over her shoulder. “I think I’d better get this one home.” He nuzzled her neck and made her giggle before he motioned with his head in my direction. “You stayin’ here tonight?”

I waved my half-empty bottle in the air and nodded.

“Yep. I’ve had a couple of these.”

Not that I was going anywhere anyway.

“Good.” No bitterness, no distrust.

Natalie tottered forward, hugged me, and stepped back to pucker her lips and squeeze my chin before she turned to kiss Elizabeth on her cheek.

I suppressed a chuckle. Matthew was definitely in for it tonight.

I shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Drive safe.”

“Sure thing . . . see you two tomorrow.” With a final happy birthday wish to Elizabeth, he wound an arm around Natalie’s waist and led her out the door.

In their absence was a charged silence. Elizabeth looked to the ground, fidgeting in trepidation, timorous.

I didn’t want her to feel this way, pressured or coerced, and I knew right then our reunion couldn’t be tonight. Even though we both knew she was mine, that I was hers, it was obvious she still wasn’t ready.

Patience.

“Did you have a good time?” I asked to break the tension as I crossed the room and gathered her bags to take them into the kitchen. I gave her a gentle smile.

It’s okay, Elizabeth, I already know.

I set the brightly colored bags on the kitchen table and snooped through wads of tissue paper, bottles of wine, soaps, scented lotions, and lingerie. Elizabeth spoke from behind me where she lagged at the archway. “Yeah . . . we had a lot of fun.” She giggled mostly to herself. “But my feet real y hurt. I’m getting too old for this.” Chuckling at her assertion, I poked around some more through her things. I wished I could have been there to see her open her gifts and somehow have been with Lizzie at the same time.

I pulled a bottle of red wine from a gift bag, inspected the label, turned to her, and held it up. “Shal we?” I knew we probably shouldn’t, that we’d both had enough to drink, but I didn’t yet have it in me to tel her goodnight.

Her mouth twitched at one corner. “You know Scott got that for me?”

I looked between her and the bottle and cocked an eyebrow.

“Wel , then we definitely should.” For some reason, my teasing seemed to relax her, and I saw the strain drain from her eyes and melt from her muscles. She shook her head and laughed lightly as she crossed the room and hoisted herself onto the kitchen counter.

I swall owed and tried to orient myself, to maintain control.

She was so beautiful. Many times I’d seen her sitting on that counter, chatting with Natalie and laughing, but never dressed like that.

I tried not to stare as I dug through the drawer next to the sink for a corkscrew, though I couldn’t help but steal glances. She leaned forward with her hands holding the edge of the counter, her long, slender legs exposed all the way to her thighs. She swung them slowly, and the backs of her black heels thudded rhythmical y against the cabinet beneath her, the swel of her br**sts peeking out the top of her white blouse—a near irresistible temptation.

She wore a shy smile as she watched me opening the wine, her head tilted to face me, blond curls fal ing to one side. I poured two glasses, handed her one, and whispered, “Happy birthday, Elizabeth.” I clinked my glass to hers.

She sipped while looking up at me through her long eyelashes. “It’s not my birthday anymore.” I closed my eyes, struggled to breathe, and took a step away to put some distance between us.

It was clear what was simmering just under the surface, what hung in the air. I knew I should end this and tel her goodnight.

Instead, I glanced over at her and smiled and found an excuse to keep her for a few minutes more. “Tel me about tonight?”

I watched the movement of her mouth as she told me about her party, her friends, family, the things that were said, and the things that were done. I watched as she brought the glass to her lips again and again. Time ticked on, topics changed, drifted to old col ege stories, the places we’d been, the fun we had shared. We laughed, we teased. I refil ed her glass, refil ed mine, opened another bottle, listened as her words began to slur just as my mind became slack.

I was too relaxed, felt too good—loved the sound of her voice. I was drawn and edged closer, wanting more.

I found myself facing her and standing between her legs. I set my wine aside and pressed my palms onto the countertop. My thumbs gently brushed the outside of her thighs, her calves grazing my jeans as they slowly swished back and forth. Her mouth was seductive, her eyes dark.

Needing to see her, I reached out and pushed away the veil of hair obstructing her beautiful face. She leaned her head into the movement, inviting the contact. I ran the back of my hand down her cheek, over her lips, and breathed her name. “Elizabeth.”

She trembled as she hesitantly lifted her fingertips to touch my face and then cupped my jaw. Our breaths fil ed the room, heavy and hungry. Her eyes flickered over my face, resting on where she touched me. Under her touch, my skin burned like fire. She looked back at me almost in awe as if she’d forgotten the power of our connection—forgotten that together we felt like this.