Better. Who knew that one word could have so much power over him? He couldn’t disappoint her, not when she had so much faith in him. He was not going to rush this. This time Maggie would be properly seduced. She deserved to feel as special as she truly was. She deserved to feel loved.
The heady rush that came with the realization that he was in love with her—and that she loved him back—was enough to send his pulse racing. He felt as if ten years had been shaved off his life. This was how it was supposed to be, he realized. No complicated negotiations, no power plays. Just two people making things right.
So James forced himself to kiss her slow and deep. He tasted the sweetness of the Shirley Temple on her tongue—the taste of innocence, he thought. Maggie reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth down harder onto hers.
Go slow, he told himself. If this didn’t work, he was going to have to think about William Howard Taft again, and that wasn’t nearly as much fun as thinking about Maggie.
The kiss got deeper. James felt his slow-and-steady resolve start to weaken. She was making her choice, and she was choosing him. After the hell he’d put her through, she was still choosing him. Emotion constricted his chest until he felt light-headed. She’d handled everything demeaning and conflicting and deceiving about his world with such strength and grace that he wasn’t sure he was worthy of the gift of her affection.
She pulled away, and he was terrified that she’d read his mind—and agreed he wasn’t worthy. But that wasn’t it. Her eyelashes fluttered as her chest heaved. “We shouldn’t.”
“I’m going to resign my position on Monday, Maggie.”
Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him. “You are? Why?”
“Because I finally figured out what I want, and it’s not the power or the money. I can do good in this world without having to mortgage my soul. I want to be worthy of you, Maggie. I want to love you. That’s all I really need.”
“Are you serious?”
He couldn’t help grinning at her, and her lips curved into a smile he couldn’t read—relief? Disappointment? Excitement? Then he was kissing her again—still slowly, but with more urgency.
Tonight was the first night of the rest of his life, and he wanted to live it right—loving this beautiful woman in his bed.
The zipper didn’t want to cooperate, but with more force than he intended, he yanked it down and almost pulled the whole dress right off her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled against her mouth.
She giggled as he did what he’d wanted to do earlier. He slid his hands underneath the black fabric and pushed the dress off her shoulders. It slid over her hips with a shushing noise and hit the ground.
Whatever oxygen he’d been breathing got stuck in his throat at the sight of her back in nothing but a black bra and a matching thong. The wave of desire that hit him was so strong that it nearly brought him to his knees. He’d never been a thong guy—a woman wearing nothing was much preferred—but he was going to have to reevaluate his thinking on the matter. The sheer black fabric rode high on her hips before swooping between the nicest backside he could ever remember seeing.
He didn’t want to just look, though. He ran his hands over her shoulders, moving her swath of silky hair out of his way. Slow was more of a guideline than a law, but he told himself that tasting each part of her body was going slow enough. He kissed the back of her neck at the base while his fingers ran ahead and stroked each muscle. Because she had muscles. Underneath the satin of her skin, tight deltoids rolled with desire as he touched them, proof that she wasn’t afraid of hard work. He took his time appreciating each and every one of those earned muscles, which made him harder than he’d ever been.
Until he got to the tattoo that covered so much territory on her right shoulder. She unexpectedly shuddered, pulling away from him. “Don’t. Not that.”
As James shook some sense back into his head, he found himself wondering about that tattoo. She’d had her teeth and skin fixed—all except that scar on the side of her face and this tattoo. He ran a finger over the ink. “Why did you keep it?”
“Because.” He thought that was the only answer he was going to get, but then she took a deep breath. “Because it cost a lot of money, and they couldn’t promise it would go completely away.”
He wasn’t buying that answer. He stepped forward, trailing his finger down to her bra strap. As he unhooked it, he kissed the flames. “And?”
He slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders. Finally, he could see those breasts, even if they were reflected in glass. The megawatt sparkle of her necklace shined between her breasts. Despite the scars and the tattoo, or maybe because of them, she was perfect. He slid his hands around her chest and cradled the full weight of each breast. Just touching—and appreciating—was one of the most sexually satisfying moments of his life.
“I was afraid I would forget who I’d been.”
As his fingers stroked and tugged at her chocolaty-brown nipples, her bottom quivered against his zipper. James had to remind himself that tonight was all about showing her how much she was cherished.
“I needed to remember so I’d never fall into that trap ever again.”
As loath as he was to relinquish his hold on one of her breasts, he let his hand slip down her waist and over the thin V of black fabric. She gasped as his fingers stroked lower and lower. “I will never forget who you are now, Maggie.”
“Who am I?” Her breath was ragged. She needed him. And she trusted him.
He felt the tight nub of tender flesh beneath the panties. He began to rub in measured circles. “The honest, beautiful, intelligent woman I’m falling in love with.”
Maggie’s head fell back against his shoulder as she sucked in air while he tugged and rubbed and stroked and kissed, because he couldn’t keep any part of him off every part of her. And through it all, he held her.
She laced her fingers through his hair as she arched her back. Oh, she was ready for him. Her whole body shaking, she ground down onto his fingers, her hips rolling from side to side as she gasped, “Oh, James!” over and over. He could feel her wet warmth through her panties. If he got any harder, he’d become a stone, a permanent reminder of the effect she had on him.
Suddenly, she turned her face to his. “Come, babe,” he whispered as he kissed her.
With a cry of pleasure, she went limp against him. He spun her around and picked her up. He’d carry her to bed. That was the noble thing to do.
When she wrapped her legs around his waist, though, he was pretty sure she was going to be the death of him. Once she settled against him, he tried to move and didn’t get far.
“Take me to bed, James.” Her throaty whisper hummed through his blood until he couldn’t tell what was noble from what wasn’t anymore. Holding her in his arms had wiped away his past, his family, his ambitions. All that was left was her.
But he did as he was told. He picked his room—it had the suitcase with the condoms in it, and he didn’t want to leave her side for so much as a moment.
Maggie was draped against him. “Are you sure?” he forced himself to ask when he got to his doorway.
She nodded, her head resting on his shoulder. “I trust you, James.”
That was all he needed to hear. It was hard to be careful and quick at the same time, but it didn’t take long before he had her down on the bed.
He ached at the sight of her spread out before him. Luckily, she didn’t stay that way for long. She pulled herself up to her knees and grabbed his tie. With far more concentration than he was capable of, she undid the knot, removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. But when she made a move for his belt, he had to stop her.
The condom. Yeah, that was what he needed to remember. He took a couple of slow breaths as he dug one out, and then took care removing his own pants. Maggie’s smile was on the coy side of shy, but she didn’t avert her eyes as he rolled on the protection.
He knelt on the bed and reached f
or her panties. The thong had looked damn fine on, but even better off, where he could finally see the curls of glossy black hair that covered her sex.
“Oh, Maggie.” That was the full extent of his pillow talk as she fell back onto the bed, pulling him with her. Any attempt at slow was now a memory as his body found her center all by itself. As he slid into the welcoming embrace she offered him, he kept his eyes open.
She watched him the whole time their bodies moved together, her eyes wide in reverent wonder as she took and gave. She stroked his chest, his back, her every move like a prayer. She looked as if this was the first time she’d been with someone who cared for her the way he did—maybe it was. That thought strengthened his resolve to do right by her tonight.
He wasn’t going to last much longer. It didn’t seem possible that only three days had passed since he’d been with this woman. The space between that release and this one felt like a lifetime, maybe longer. How could she do that to him—make him need her so much? Because he did. He needed her.
He couldn’t keep his mouth off her. Her body tensed around his, draining the last of his self-control. Amen, he thought as his climax ripped through him. They were coming together. They belonged together.
That feeling didn’t fade when he pulled himself off her, nor did it lessen when they went to their separate bathrooms. If anything, it got stronger when she slid under the covers with him and pressed her body along the length of his.
She was going to stay with him. As he drifted off into an exhausted, yet satisfied, sleep, he tried to think of the last time a woman had stayed all night. Rosebud never had. Same with Pauline, except maybe a time or two.
As he faded, he felt himself hug Maggie tighter as he turned and kissed the top of her head. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his.
This, he thought as he slipped off into the black, was happiness.
Seventeen
Maggie awoke with a start. For a terrifying second, she couldn’t remember where she was. She couldn’t recall having ever seen this bed or these walls before. Where were her walls? Where was Nan? Where were her clothes?
Before panic could take over, she took a deep breath, and James’s scent rushed over her, bringing with it the memory of foreplay and lovemaking. Of feeling safe and falling asleep.
Other memories came with those, faster than she could handle them. Ice-cold parents and an angry Pauline. Early mornings and bumpy plane rides. Being ignored and insulted.
None of that mattered, she reminded herself. James—how he made her feel, how he treated her—that was what mattered.
Ugh, her head hurt. She looked around for a clock. Holy cow, it was 10:23. That seemed late, but then, she had no idea when she’d gone to sleep. Maybe it was early.
She was alone in this room. James’s room. Where was he? He hadn’t bailed on her, had he? One way to find out. The only thing of hers in here was her underwear. An unusual self-consciousness gripped her, and she decided there was no way in hell she was going to parade around this hotel room in her skimpiest panties. No way, no how.
Which didn’t leave her with a lot of options. She slipped on her underthings and then grabbed James’s button-down shirt from the floor. Better than nothing.
She cracked the door open, feeling nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite grasp. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon filled the small hallway, reminding her that she hadn’t had real food since that quick dinner almost sixteen hours ago.
The low hum of someone saying something they didn’t want anyone else to hear mixed in with the smell of breakfast. James was talking to someone.
She took quiet steps out of the room. An almost-full coffeepot was on the kitchenette counter. Next to that stood a wheeled cart with domed plates on it. Another step, then two, and she saw him. He was standing in front of all those windows, talking on his cell phone. He wore his suit pants and nothing else.
He was still here. That made her feel better. No one had ever stayed a whole night with her before.
“Okay. See you then.” James hung up and immediately dialed again.
Maggie shouldn’t listen. Eavesdropping was not a good idea. But who would he see? And when?
James stood with his back to her. Good Lord, what a nice back it was. Broad and muscled—more muscles than she would have guessed a lawyer would have. His beltless pants sat low on his hips, and for some reason, Maggie decided he looked as if he was doing a photo shoot for some lawyer-themed beefcake calendar—“Lawyers Debriefed” or something ridiculous like that.
“Hey, it’s me.” Against her better judgment, Maggie continued to listen. Who was he calling while he thought she was still asleep? “Yeah, I’ve missed you, too. It’s been hard.”
She was not going to jump to conclusions. He could be talking to anyone. Anyone who would know him by voice alone. Anyone he would miss—and who would miss him back. Yup. Could be anyone. Surely he wasn’t talking to a lady friend after spending the night with her. Right?
“I know, but—no, I—Pauly, listen to me.”
Oh. Pauly. Pauline. Oh.
Maggie started to back away as Pauline’s parting shot rang in her ears. Men like James didn’t love their wives, children or their mistresses. Where did that leave Maggie? Last night, James had sweet-talked her with the promise that he was quitting his job, and she’d fallen right into bed with him. Maybe she wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. Maybe he’d just manipulated her—used her—the way Pauline had said he would. He wouldn’t do that to her.
Would he?
“Look. I called to tell you we can’t keep this charade going. It’s over. It never really started.”
Maggie froze, unsure if she could trust her ears. Was he dumping Pauline?
“No, I’m not alone, and let’s be honest, neither are you.” He paused, and then sighed wearily. “No, she didn’t say anything. It’s an educated guess. You’re not waiting on me any more than I’m waiting on you. I don’t care what Mother says.”
Hope bloomed in Maggie’s chest, squashing all those weedy little jealous spikes. He’d made his choice. He was choosing her.
“It’s better this way. I have a chance to be happy, Pauly. I’m going to take it. I hope you take one, too.”
He listened for a few moments while Maggie did her best not to laugh out loud. A chance to be happy. That’s all it was, which, to her, didn’t sound like much. She’d been happy enough with Nan—safe, well-fed, busy. Oh, no, this was different. A chance to be loved.
“You can tell her anything you want. I’m not coming back to D.C., so if you want to blame me, go for it. I’ll take the heat.” He made a snorting sound. “I’m used to it.”
Maggie must have made a noise, because James spun around and caught her listening. Busted. His surprise was quickly replaced by a snarky grin. “I wish you the best, Pauly, you know that. Yeah. You do that. And if you ever need anything out west, look me up.”
He hung up and stood there, looking at her. Which was fine, because she was looking at him. Who would have guessed that a lawyer could be so hot?
“I didn’t hear you get up, beautiful.”
Oh. My. Gooey warmth uncurled in her belly, temporarily blocking out the hunger. “I missed you.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
If this were a movie, Maggie would have some camera-ready quip, like “long enough,” ready to go. But her life wasn’t a movie. Never had been, and wasn’t about to start being one now. “I heard you call Pauline.”
He nodded. “I gather she didn’t leave you on the best of terms.”
“She said…” Part of Maggie’s brain screamed for her to shut up. James was going to take a chance on her. Maybe happiness was possible, maybe it was just a pipe dream—but right now, she didn’t care. That chance, however unreal, was something she would hold near and dear for the rest of her life. Repeating Pauline’s words could bring reality crashing back down on her head.
“She said that men like you and your f
ather don’t love your wives, your children or your mistresses.”
James nodded again, as if this was common. Before he spoke again, he went over and poured two cups of coffee. “She’s half-right. Men like my father don’t. But I’m not my father. And you’re not my wife, my child or my mistress.”
He seemed cool about this whole thing, while Maggie was a mess of emotions. Which had to be why she said, “What am I?” Out loud.
James walked over and handed her the cup. She took it with both hands, in case she developed a severe case of the shakes in the next thirty seconds or so. Then he traced the line of her cheek. “You’re something else, Maggie. And I’m working on what that means.”
He kissed her cheek, then her lips. Pure desire rushed through her, but then he stopped. “Breakfast first, then Desmond is coming at twelve-thirty to drive us around town.”
Breakfast wouldn’t take two hours, which meant… She must have blushed because he kissed her again. “We’ve got all the time in the world, beautiful.”
Oh, she could get used to this.
* * *
After breakfast, they went back to bed for an hour. The sex wasn’t frenzied and it wasn’t slow. To James, it felt different than anything he’d ever shared with a woman. He was no saint. He’d had girlfriends and lady friends. But looking back, he had had few serious relationships that he’d acknowledged in public. The thing with Rosebud had always been hush-hush, and because he and Pauline had never been in love, they hadn’t made a big public deal when they did date.
This, he thought as he held Maggie’s shivering body and kissed her soft lips, is serious.
By the time Desmond showed up, both James and Maggie were showered and dressed. She’d wound her hair back into a simple braid and had forgone most of her makeup, but James had trouble remembering when she’d been more stunning. Gone was the tension that made her nervous and defensive. Yesterday’s retreat into silence was long forgotten.
What was left was her sense of wonder and amazement. He noticed that Maggie couldn’t stop smiling, and he liked it. He liked the feeling of having done right by her. Sure, it had taken a few days of missteps and trials by fire, but finally, he was taking care of her.
A Man of Privilege Page 15
