Reckless Romance

by Maggie Riley

  I tried to let out a disbelieving laugh, but it came out as a snort.

  “I’m not hot, Josh,” I told him. “I’m interesting. Or quirky. Or on a good day, cute. But never, ever hot.”

  “Is that right?” His gaze swept down my body, and suddenly I felt hot. Like I was burning up. Because his eyes seemed to look right through my clothes.

  “Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest, as if protecting myself. “That’s right.”

  He mirrored my stance.

  “So why do I still want to kiss you?”

  “I—well—” I was speechless again, unable to find an answer, but then I looked down at myself. “Because I tricked you.”

  “You tricked me,” he repeated.

  I threw out my hands. “I tricked you with this dress.” I pulled it away from my body. “And this hair,” I said, tugging at my curls. “And those shoes and those contacts,” I gestured towards the kitchen. “I made you think that I might be one of those girls. A girl that could flirt and walk in heels and wear colors and talk about things that aren’t related to theatre or Shakespeare. But I can’t.”

  For a long moment Josh didn’t say anything. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was sure that I had done it. That I had chased him away. That I had terrified him with my honesty and my issues and that in a few short moments he would walk away and all of this would be nothing more than another terrible, awkward failed romantic encounter. Just one more to add to my list of reasons why I should never, ever date.

  But Josh didn’t run away.

  He smiled. A real smile. A drop-to-your-knees, blue-skies-after-the-rain kind of smile.

  “First of all,” he said. “I like that you talk about Shakespeare and theatre. It’s interesting. You’re interesting. Second of all, I don’t care if you wear colors. Or heels. And I like that you can’t flirt because I’m a jealous kind of guy and it means you won’t be flirting with anyone else.”

  My mouth dropped open, but before I could say anything, he pressed a finger to my lips.

  “As for those contacts,” he gestured back at the kitchen. “I like your glasses.” He gently pushed them back from where they had slid down to the end of my nose. “And I like your hair.” He caught a lock of it around his finger and gave it a tug, pulling me a little closer. My heart skipped a beat.

  “But this dress,” his hands found my hips. I could feel the heat of them through the linen fabric. “I’ll admit that I could do without the dress.”

  He gave me a grin that was so wicked that it made my toes curl into the carpet.

  “But I think I can work around it.”

  And then his mouth descended on mine.

  Chapter 20

  REAGAN

  Nothing could have prepared me for this kiss. Our last kiss was nothing in comparison to this. That kiss had started off soft and tentative. There was nothing tentative in this kiss. Josh knew what he wanted and he was taking it. He was in control. The kiss was raw and intense and incredible. He kissed me as if he was trying to prove a point.

  And it excited me. Because girls like me didn’t get kissed like this. Didn’t get kissed with this kind of desperation and desire. With this kind of need. Because I could feel Josh’s need. I could feel it in the way his mouth pressed eagerly against mine, the way his tongue swept hot into my mouth, the way his fingers dug into my hips as he backed me against the brass footboard of my bed.

  And my need matched his. I was mindless with it, winding my arms around his neck, arching my body into his. When I did, he groaned, the sound low and deep, and I could feel it, my breasts pressed up against his chest, the vibration traveling through both of us. I could also feel him, the thick, hard length of his cock against my stomach. He tore his lips from mine, moving to drop hot, biting kisses along my jaw, down my throat. My head fell back as he continued his downward assault, a moan escaping with a sigh.

  “Reagan Bennett,” he said between kisses. “You are interesting and quirky and cute.” I felt him smile against my collarbone. “But you are also sexy as hell.” He pulled back and put a finger under my chin, lifting my eyes to his. They blazed with desire, with need. “And I’m going to prove it to you,” he said.

  He already had. And I was going to tell him so, but he dropped to his knees before I could say a word, his hands pushing my hem up my thighs.

  “And like I said.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee. “I can work around the dress.”

  My hands gripped my brass footboard as he inched said dress higher, up past my hips, revealing my extremely un-sexy striped cotton panties. I was about to apologize for them, when he let out something that could only be described as a growl, and hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid them down my legs.

  I stood there, completely naked from the waist down, with the most gorgeous man I had ever seen, kneeling in front of me. Josh’s hair was mussed from my hands, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Had that been my doing? I couldn’t even remember.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I held onto the footboard for dear life as Josh’s hand began to climb up the inside of my leg. No man had ever done this to me before, but my need overrode my nervousness and as he climbed higher, I spread my legs to accommodate him.

  “So fucking sexy.” His voice was husky and rough, and I could feel his breath against my thighs.

  I was practically panting with anticipation as his fingers inched closer and closer to the part of me that was burning for his touch. When his thumb brushed against it, just the lightest nothing of a touch, I was so ready that I nearly came right then. But after that contact, there was nothing.

  Opening my eyes, I looked down and saw Josh watching me. The expression on his face nearly brought me to my knees. All that need and desire. A smile curved his lips. Lips he then pressed against me.

  “Oh!” I cried out as his tongue swept across my clit.

  Josh’s hands were at my hips, holding me against his mouth, and if not for them and my death grip on my bed, I might have collapsed right at that moment. But I didn’t. I held on as he licked and sucked me, his hot, talented tongue making me moan.

  Already I felt my orgasm beginning to build within me, deep, heavy pleasure spreading throughout me as Josh thrust his tongue inside me. My head dropped back, my knuckles aching as I tightened my hold on the bed.

  Then I felt his hand slid up the inside of my thigh. Those long, tapered fingers of his, leaving a trail of heat as it traveled up, up, upward until it joined his mouth against me. He drew his thumb across me, pressing, circling my clit, alternating with the lapping of his tongue. Then, he thrust a finger inside of me, the sharp, perfect pleasure of it, drawing a keening moan from my throat.

  I could feel Josh smile against me, against the most intimate part of me, and my knees went weak. But he only tightened his grip on me, his other hand cupping my ass and tilting my hips towards his mouth and hand. His finger stroked me, filled me, teasing and taunting me, until a second one joined it. And as those long, wonderful fingers pumped inside of me, he dragged his tongue against my clit, finally making me come.

  Bright spots exploded behind my eyes as pleasure washed over me, taking me under. I was mindless in it, crying out as my orgasm shook me like an earthquake. It had never been like this, not even when I was alone. It was a moment of sheer perfection, of sheer fulfillment and the aftershocks of it scattered through me as my legs gave out, and I nearly collapsed.

  But Josh caught me before I did. It took a moment for me to realize that he had risen to his feet, keeping me steady on mine. As I came back to reality, as the room returned to focus, I found him standing in front of me, wearing a satisfied grin. One that was probably similar to the one currently plastered across my face.

  I took in a huge gulp of air, steadying myself, expecting him to pick me up in his arms and throw me down on the bed, following after me, his body hard against mine. But he didn’t. Instead, he gently smoothed my dress back down to my knees and pressed a soft kiss to my forehe
ad.

  “Now do you see?” he asked.

  I blinked at him. “See what?”

  “How much I want you?” He took my chin in his hands, lifting my eyes to his. “You. All of you.”

  His eyes burned with desire and attraction. And I felt sexy. For the first time in my life, I felt sexy. Somehow I nodded. I was still waiting for him to strip off our clothes. To finish what had been started. And already I was aching for it again. For him. For all of him.

  But that’s not what happened. Instead he kissed me. And I could taste myself on his lips and it made me tremble in his arms. Because I wanted him.

  “Don’t ever forget,” he murmured. “Don’t ever forget how sexy you are.”

  I wanted to reach for him, to pull him closer, to pull him down on the bed. But I couldn’t take my hands from the headboard, my knees trembling. This was too much. Too much, too fast. Because even though I believed him, even though I wanted him, I still hesitated. I was still nervous. Still uncertain.

  And as if he could sense that, he kissed me, softly, gently.

  “Thank you for the date, Reagan Bennett,” he said. “It was a pleasure.”

  And then he pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and left.

  JOSH

  That night I slept better than I had in months. Even though I was still turned on and tense with unreleased need, somehow, the memory of how Reagan had fallen apart in my hands, the way she had surrendered to the pleasure I gave her, was enough to lull me into a deep, satisfying sleep.

  It wasn’t as if I hadn’t experienced that before. I considered myself a considerate sexual partner and a woman’s pleasure was always the priority. But with Reagan it had been different. More intense. Watching her come had given me a satisfaction I’d never felt before. Gave me a sense of masculine pride that was its own release in a way.

  Not that I wanted to end it there. Hell, I had been hard as a rock when I left Reagan’s place. Had wanted nothing more than to yank that dress over her head and throw her down on the bed, burying myself deep inside her.

  But last night had been about her.

  When Reagan had bolted, had pulled her hand from mine and rushed back into her apartment, I hadn’t known what to do. Because that had never happened to me before. I knew it was an arrogant bastard thought, but I didn’t have a lot of experience of women running away from me. Usually it was the opposite. I had more practice fending them off than drawing them in.

  But Reagan was different. With each of our interactions that became more and more evident. It was also evident how much I liked that. Liked how different she was. She was honest and unassuming and there was a certain bravery in it that I couldn’t help but admire.

  Which is why I hadn’t left. Why I hadn’t given up. I had even taken heart at the unlocked door, hoping it was some unconscious decision on her part. That if she really wanted me to leave, she would have done everything to keep me out. But she hadn’t.

  But still, I knew I had to tread lightly. Had to be careful. Because Reagan, despite her bravery, was still skittish. Still nervous. And I could understand that. So when I followed her, when I went into her apartment, I had this whole speech planned out. This whole calm, comforting thing that I had intended to say to her. I was going to tell her that we could take it slow, that there was no rush.

  That speech had disappeared from my head the moment I saw her. With her shoes kicked off, her glasses framing her face again, and her hair in a messy disarray, my brain turned off completely, my lust kicking into high drive.

  She was gorgeous. Those big, brown eyes magnified by her glasses, and her dark hair curling around her shoulders made her seem utterly touchable. I wanted to thrust my hand through her loosened hair, cup her hand with my palm and kiss the lipstick from her lips. I wanted to drag the zipper of that dress down, pressing my mouth along her spine as I exposed inch after inch of pale, creamy skin.

  So I didn’t give her my speech. I didn’t say we could go slow. Because at that moment, the last thing I wanted was slow. I wanted her in a way that I could barely explain, could barely describe. I wanted to prove to her, without a doubt, how much I wanted her. How sexy I found her.

  I could still taste her. It made it extremely difficult to concentrate, even after a full night’s sleep. I ran through Central Park, pushing myself harder than I usually did, as if I could outrun the lust that seemed to be surging through me. Because I needed to have this shit under control the next time I saw her. If I didn’t, who knew what would happen?

  I ran until my thighs ached, until my lungs were sore. The desire didn’t abate. If anything, I wanted Reagan more. I didn’t understand what was happening. I wasn’t a Neanderthal. I had self-control. Didn’t I?

  Obviously I did. It was the only way I could have stepped away from her last night. Because I knew she wasn’t ready. I felt the way she trembled in my arms. The way she hesitated. And I could wait. She was worth the wait.

  I was stepping out of the shower when I heard my phone ring. Hoping it wasn’t Kelly, who continued to call nearly every day, I checked the screen. Allie.

  “I thought you weren’t going to call me from your honeymoon anymore,” I said as a greeting.

  “I’m not,” she told me, humor in her voice. “Did you forget we got back to New York today?”

  I had forgotten.

  “I’m guessing that means you also forgot you were going to meet me for lunch today,” Allie teased. “Weren’t we going to go furniture shopping? Or are you going to make some new excuse for why you can’t do that?”

  “No,” I said, looking around my apartment, once again seeing the empty wasteland it was. I really didn’t want to bring Reagan back here again without it looking somewhat habitable. Even though she had agreed to help me, there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t get a head start on the transformation with my sister’s help. “Furniture shopping sounds good.”

  “Really?” Allie asked, her surprise evident. “I’m not going to get any argument from you?”

  “Do you want an argument?” I countered.

  “No, no,” she said quickly. “I’m happy you changed your mind. When do you want to meet?”

  I looked at my watch. It was still early, but I didn’t have any plans.

  “We could go looking for furniture now,” I told her. “Grab lunch after.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Wow,” Allie finally said. “Did you hit your head while I was gone? Or undergo some sort of personality transplant?”

  I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she couldn’t see me.

  “Really? You’re going to give me shit about wanting to go furniture shopping after pestering me for months to do it. Maybe I just got sick of you bitching about my place.”

  “You’re lying, but I don’t even care,” said Allie. “Unfortunately, I can’t go shopping right now. I have to go to the theatre and meet with Reagan and Joanna. We have our first rehearsal this afternoon.”

  “I can meet you there,” I offered quickly. Too quickly.

  “Um, sure,” said Allie, her voice full of questions. None of which she voiced. “I should be done around noon.”

  “Great,” I told her, but my mind was already focused on seeing Reagan again. “See you there.”

  Chapter 21

  REAGAN

  I felt like my whole body was humming. As if I was aware of every inch of it for the first time. Everything felt good. My sleep had been deep and satisfying, my breakfast was the best breakfast ever, my shower was the perfect temperature, and my clothes felt incredible on my skin. Everything was amazing. I might have even skipped a little on my way into the theatre.

  “You had sex,” Joanna said the moment she saw me.

  I stopped mid-skip. “What? No.” Technically it was the truth. Wasn’t it?

  She had been waiting for me in the lobby and approached, her blue eyes narrowing, her arms crossed over her impressive chest. Looking me over, she tilted her head as she assessed. I tried to loo
k unsatisfied.

  “You had some sort of sex,” she amended.

  “How do you do that?” I demanded.

  It wasn’t the first time she had been able to spot something like this. In fact, she had been the one to discover Allie and Shane’s relationship, which had started out as a no-strings sexual affair. It hadn’t lasted long as that.

  Joanna shrugged. “Those who don’t do it can spot it.” She raised an eyebrow. “Besides, you’re acting excessively happy. Even for you.”

  “I could be excited about the show,” I told her.

  “Reagan,” she said. “The theatre can give you emotional and creative satisfaction. It cannot give you sexual satisfaction. It cannot give you orgasms.” She gave me another look. “And you’ve had an orgasm.”

  “Reagan’s had an orgasm?” A voice asked from behind me.

  I wanted the floor to open up beneath me and swallow me up. Because that voice was Allie’s. The sister of the very person who had given me the aforementioned orgasm.

  “Allie!” I turned around and gave her a big hug, entertaining some small hope that I could push past the topic of orgasms and move on to something else. “How was the honeymoon?”

  “Fine,” she said, hugging me back and then pulling away and giving me an exacting look. “You do look especially happy today.”

  “That’s the smile of the sexually satisfied,” said Joanna. “Notice how I never have it.”

  “By choice,” I pointed out. “You know you could have sex if you wanted.”

  Joanna waved her hand. “It’s not worth messing up my hair for something that’s not even a guarantee. Men are selfish assholes.”

  Not all of them, I thought, wisely keeping the information about how unselfish Josh had been to myself. The last thing I wanted to do was praise his sexual prowess in front of his sister. In fact, I wasn’t sure I wanted to praise his sexual prowess to anyone. I wanted to keep it to myself. Keep him to myself. As if saying it out loud could jinx it.