Merry and Bright(22)

“So you don’t put your weight on your cuts,” he said, pulling her thighs on either side of his hips so that she straddled him, letting her feel exactly what her kisses and touches had done to him.

There was something about being entirely naked while he still wore his jeans. It made her feel exposed, and yet so aroused she could hardly stand it. “I’m a little underdressed here.”

“I know.” His eyes were lit with heat and desire as they took her naked body in. “I like it.” Then he covered her mouth with his, going in for a long, drugging kiss that did something shocking to her brain that she’d never managed before.

It turned off.

She wasn’t worried about what she looked like naked, or wondering if she’d turned off her cell phone, or if her front door was locked. She wasn’t doing anything but feeling—and oh, God, what a feeling she had with his hands skimming down her bare back, cupping her bottom, gently pulling her in closer, careful of her cuts and bruises, until she was as snug against him as she could be, making her intimately aware of his jeans. The denim rubbed her inner thighs, and between.

He was hard. Big and hard and she pulled her mouth free to pop open his buttons, while his hands stroked her breasts, gliding over her nipples, leaving her to restlessly rock her hips. “Jacob—”

“I know.” He took his hands on a tour down her ribs, her quivering belly, her thighs, which he urged even wider. His gaze dropped from hers, and he looked his fill, exhaling very heavily, very slowly, only to suck the air back in when she freed him from his jeans. Lifting his hips, he helped her shove them out of the way as his hands swept up her back, pulling her in close for another deep, soul-wrenching kiss, his hands making their way back down, over her bandages, between her legs. “God, you’re wet. So wet. I want to taste—”

“Later—” She gasped out the word as he slid a finger into her. Needing him inside her, she lifted her hips.

“Wait,” he rasped out. “Maggie, wait. I want to—”

She sank onto him, and he gripped her hips to hold her still, his eyes trapping hers. Their twin sighs commingled in the air, and she knew right then, nothing about this was a one-time fluke.

“Maggie,” he said, just that. She rocked her hips to meet his, staring with wide wonder into his eyes, her hands touching as much of his hard, damp, straining body as she could. Yeah, it’d been a while, a long while since she’d been with anyone else, and yet she could say with the utmost authority that it had never felt like this.

And then he began to move. Her toes curled, her entire body tingled from the inside out as sheer, unadulterated pleasure hummed through her. It was perfect, it was heaven, and when he banded his arms tightly around her, pushing up, thrusting hard, his teeth scraping her throat, she felt herself start to come apart for him again.

But this time, he was right there with her, just as far gone himself, and when she came on a cry of sheer surprise at the infusion of pleasure, she heard his own low, rough groan as he shuddered and followed her over.





9


Jacob woke up to a knock, and opened his eyes.

Plastered against his side was a soft, naked, sleeping woman with a smile on her face that said I’m in an orgasmic coma.

He’d put her there, which gave him more than a little satisfaction. With a smile, he leaned over her with the intention of waking her up and starting all over again but then he heard another knock and realized someone was at the door. Maggie didn’t budge, so he slipped out of bed. At the loss of his body heat, she rolled to her belly and snuggled into her pillow—with two Band-Aids on her cute ass, and a bruise in the shape of a fork.

Someone knocked for a third time and he pulled on his jeans, padded through the condo, and opened the front door.

Scott stared at Jacob for a long beat, holding two Starbucks cups and a brown bag that smelled good. He took in Jacob’s lack of a shirt and shoes and socks, and clearly added two and two. “Uh . . .”

“You’re looking for Maggie.”

Scott nodded, looking very unhappy. “Yes.”

“She’s still in bed—”

“No, I’m here.” Maggie came around from behind him, wearing a robe and a wide-eyed, sexy, rumpled, I’ve-just-been-laid look in spite of how tightly she held her robe closed. “Scott?”

He held out one of the coffees, and then on second thought, politely handed the other to Jacob. “I came by to check in on you, but I can see you’re . . . busy.”

“Scott—”

“No, it’s okay. See you at work.” With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he turned and walked off.

“Scott.”

He didn’t respond, and shutting the door, Maggie leaned back against it and sighed. “That’s probably not good.”

“Actually, it is.” Jacob took a second sip. “For how overpriced it is, it’s very good.”

Maggie didn’t smile. “You didn’t have to act so . . .”

“So what?”

“Territorial.”

That stopped him cold. Territorial? He wasn’t territorial. Territorial was for committed guys, guys who had a thing for being with the same woman, guys who wanted stability and routine—not guys just being a woman’s Mr. Wrong. He was just . . . ah, hell. He was acting territorial. While he chewed on that shocking fact, she made a noise of disgust and brushed past him, heading into the shower. She’d just shut the curtain when he caught up with her and peeled back the shower curtain.