Chapter 26

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, 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 informed her, 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 final 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, and that alone was the headiest aphrodisiac Emma had ever experienced.

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 five-course meal, and she hadn't eaten in days. Maybe weeks.

Trying to gather her wits – trying not to beg, 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 damn 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 night 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, though she wasn't quite sure she believed herself.

She should be exhausted, but 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 mouth 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.