Setting my camera down, I began stalking toward her. “I can’t just stop a shoot so I can check up on you. You told me you’d be here, I trusted you were coming. Reagan, I’ve been going out of my mind wondering where you were. I didn’t know if you’d gotten in a wreck, if you just decided not to come . . . a thousand possibilities were running through my mind. I was acting like a dick to my client because of you, do you realize that?”

Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry you were worried, honestly I was just waiting for you to turn around . . . and right now, Coen, I’m just playing with you. I’ve been here for almost an hour, but because you didn’t notice me until just now . . . I thought I could tease you about it.”

“Don’t try to—­”

“I’m serious! Call that guy and ask him! I walked in when he was changing into his red shirt, and we waved at each other! I just didn’t want to bother you during your shoot, so I waited back here and watched; I’m sorry you got that worried, I didn’t know. I kept thinking you would turn around, Coen, I swear to God.”

My breathing was ragged, and at some point I’d pinned her up against the back wall. My head understood that she was safe, I could see her, smell her, feel her chest pressed against mine. But my body was still shaking from the amount of adrenaline I had coursing through my veins at the thought of something happening to her, and then her playing me.

Dropping my head, I shook it to the side once and whispered gruffly, “What are you doing to me, Reagan?”

“I don’t know wh—­I’m sor—­do you want me to leave?”

“No, I don’t want you to leave. I want to know why you’re consuming me this way. I want to know why you’re all I can think about. Why the thought of something happening to you, or you standing me up, can completely ruin me like this. I want to know what it is about you that has me so f**king turned around for the first time in my life.”

She touched the side of my face and put pressure there until I looked back to her, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and filled with wonder. “I’ve avoided men for six and a half years, Coen . . . what is it about you that has me anxiously waiting for a chance to be near you again?”

I pressed my body closer to hers and dropped my forehead onto hers.

“Everything about you scares me,” she admitted quietly.

I ground my jaw and mentally cursed myself for letting her see me frustrated just then. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Reagan.”

“Don’t. You know you and your demons don’t scare me.” She shook her head slowly. “What you can do to me . . . what you can do to Parker. What letting you into our lives can do to us . . . that is what scares me. You have the power to ruin him, Coen, and knowing that makes me want to grab Parker and run.”

“Or maybe I’ll surprise you,” I whispered against her lips. Interlocking our fingers, I raised our hands above our heads and pressed them against the wall. “I respect you for what you’ve done for him. I respect you for being scared for your son. But I know that if you let me in, I’m getting you and Parker . . . not just you.”

Reagan’s eyes met and held mine, and I moved both her hands into one of mine and brought my free hand to cup her cheek.

“When I met you, I already knew what you came with. I don’t want to see what I can get from you only on nights when your son is gone, Reagan. I want to see what we can be together, and I know that includes your son getting to know me.”

“I’ve never introduced a guy to him,” she confessed after a few silent seconds, and I smiled.

“Technically, you’ve already introduced us, and we already know he likes me.” Reagan’s eyes narrowed and I brushed my lips across her nose. “You’ve also never had a guy pursuing you who wasn’t afraid of your walls or the fact that you have a son.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked, and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Pursuing me?”

“Yeah, Duchess. Glad you finally caught on.” Pressing my mouth firmly to hers, I teased her lips with my tongue and squeezed my hand tighter around hers when she opened her mouth to me. “Let me surprise you,” I begged against her lips.

“I’m waiting,” she challenged, and when I looked at the heat in her hazel eyes, I knew the direction of the conversation had changed.

Her br**sts moved against my chest with each breath she took, and when I looked down to her parted lips, it was her turn to squeeze my hand from where I still kept them resting high up on the wall. With the hand that had been cupping her cheek, I moved my fingers down her throat, and my lips twitched when I felt her pulse thrumming beneath my fingertips.

Placing my lips on her pulse point, I let my fingers continue a trail down to the low cut of her shirt, and pulled it down even more, revealing her lace-­covered br**sts. Making a line of openmouthed kisses down the path my fingers had just taken, I took one of her br**sts in my mouth and sucked on her hardened nipple through the lace.

Reagan moaned and arched her back against the wall, and her fingers dug into my hand almost to the point of pain when I raked my teeth across her nipple.

“Coen, please,” she whimpered. “Touch me.”

I let my hand lazily glide down to the top of her shorts, and had just started trying to unbutton them when I remembered where we were. Remembered that I had her pressed against a wall. Releasing her shorts and breast, I moved my mouth back up her chest to her neck, and used my hand to right her shirt.