by Maggie Wells
“—but I don’t know if I can go on, needing you and not having you there. Not only for me but for Jamie and Jeff as well.” He exhaled long and loud. “This is way more than two people wanting to jump into bed together. It’s me, and you, and Mike, and Colm…all of our kids. The company and—”
She cut him off by placing a single fingertip to his lips. Leaning away to look him in the eye, she shook her head. “No, James. This is me and you. Everything else can be figured out later. But what’s important, what this decision really boils down to, is me and you.”
She tried to imagine her room through his eyes. The white eyelet duvet and fluffy down pillows seemed lush and decadent when she bought them. Monet and Surratt prints from the Art Institute gift shop graced the walls. Untidiness aside, hers was an extremely feminine room.
“A bit girly in here,” she admitted with a wry smile.
“I like it.”
Startled by the gruffness in his tone, Rosie turned to look at James. “What?”
“Your room. This. Us.”
“You think?”
James tipped his head to the side and gave her a look that spoke volumes. “I’m having kind of a hard time thinking at all right now.”
As if he’d snapped his fingers and proclaimed all was well, Rosie’s insecurities fled. She leaped at him, fusing her mouth to his, sinking her fingers deep into his thick auburn hair. She lashed her tongue out to take what he’d offered at long last. He was here, and she was about to take full advantage.
James caught her, his hands every bit as frantic as hers, and his mouth hot and hungry. They fell onto the bed together in a tangled heap. Her frenzied fingers fumbled with the buttons on the front of his dress shirt. He yanked at the hem of her Bears jersey, then pushed at the waistband of her yoga pants. He panted like a man possessed. And he was. She possessed him. He was hers now. She had him right where she’d always wanted him, and damn it, she was going to enjoy every second.
She broke the kiss long enough to mutter an urgent, “Off.”
“Huh?”
Rosie pushed at his shirt and jacket, desperate to get at him. With a grunt, James rolled off her and shucked the clothes. She purred her approval as he peeled off his undershirt. He rewarded her by diving at her again, bare-chested and growling with impatience.
Rosie squirmed with anticipation and eager acceptance of his weight. In all the fantasies she’d spun, he’d never been this fervent, this into her. Now, he held her pinned to the mattress, and the thrill of his obvious want was almost unbearable. Almost, but not quite.
“Tell me you want me,” she whispered as he rained kisses down her throat and along her collarbone, reveling in his desire.
“Christ, Rosie,” he murmured against her skin. “How did I know how you’d taste?”
The wonder in his voice pierced through the haze of desire shrouding them, an arrow straight to her heart. He knew how she’d taste because she was made for him.
Her pulse throbbed in her throat. His hand closed over her breast, and she had to fight the reflexive urge to bat him away. This was James. James didn’t touch her like this. He didn’t touch her at all, if he could avoid doing so. But he’d come here tonight, knowing he would. Owning the fact he wanted to. And now, he was, and, Lord, it felt good. Incredible. Almost as if she’d never been touched. In a way, she hadn’t. Because she hadn’t been touched by James.
He cupped her, gently molding the weight of her breast to his hand. His long fingers encased her as firmly as the bra she’d eschewed the moment she’d walked through the door. “I have to taste you here,” he panted between kisses. “I have to.”
She arched her back, urging him to fulfill his wishes. “Yes, you have to.”
He pushed the hem of her shirt to her armpits, baring her breasts, but before she could shift to lift and peel the soft cotton over her head, his mouth closed around her nipple. She let out a low, keening moan as he tugged the sensitive flesh into his mouth and teased until her nipple hardened into a point. He laved his creation with hot, urgent sweeps of his tongue. Rosie almost cried out when he abandoned the tortured tip to nuzzle the valley between her breasts, but she was glad she hadn’t when she heard him whisper, “I knew how you would feel. I knew how you’d sound.”
He brushed the underside of her other breast and gently cupped her. Next, he divided his attentions, teasing her nipple until it, too, rose to the occasion. She looked down at him. His face was rapt, his focus intent. Golden light from the hallway spilled into the room and bounced off his burnished hair. As if sensing her gaze, he lifted his head and met her eyes dead-on. “Hell, Rosie.” He exhaled her name. “Almost too much.”
“Yes,” she replied, knowing exactly what he meant.
God, yes.
There’d been too much waiting, wanting, and denying themselves when they really needed each other. And now, they were supposed to make love like to normal people? Was that even possible? She wanted to devour him. She wanted to tear every stitch of clothing off him and claim every inch of his body as hers. And she was going to. Her rose-hued dreams of passionate tenderness paled in comparison to the inferno burning inside of her. James was right—it was almost too much, but she still hadn’t had enough.
Cradling his head in her hands, she steered him to her breasts again and bowed her back in silent exhortation. When he didn’t move fast enough for her liking, she gave voice to her desires. “Lick me. Suck me. Hard.”
Her voice quavered on the last word, but he lowered his mouth and did her bidding. Each swirl of his tongue brought comfort. The scrape of his teeth, delicious torment. Her nipples puckered and pebbled with need. Rosie marveled at the sensation. Her breasts had never been particularly sensitive, but in James’s hands, she felt like a different woman.
With other men, she’d been self-conscious about their size and uncomfortable about their need to see, touch, and squeeze them. Her nipples were large, flat, and a dark brownish pink. Once, in high school, one of the mean girls pointed at her as they were changing for Phys. Ed. class and chortled something about coffee-cup nipples.
He drew one deep into his mouth and suckled hard, as she commanded, and Rosie felt foolish for letting some long-forgotten girl make her feel insecure.
His greedy hands rushed over her skin. His palms shaped the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip. He slid one up to caress the breast he was thoroughly ravaging. She writhed beneath him, aching. Desperate for him to move on. Move lower. Touch her everywhere.
She ground against his hipbone, and James let out a strangled growl. Before she could catch her breath, he shifted his weight and pressed the long length of his erection directly against her mound. He lifted his head, braced his weight on his elbows above her, and looked into her eyes. Aroused beyond reason, she moved against him, rubbing herself along his length.
He shuddered, but not with revulsion. “Jesus, Rosie, I feel like my head’s about to come off.”
She slid her hands into his hair and pulled him down to kiss her. His lips slid over hers, and their tongues tangled and dueled for supremacy. He moved against her in an ancient dance sure to bring them both to completion if they didn’t find something better to do. At last, he shifted to his side to trail hot, wet kisses along the line of her jaw, to her ear, and down her neck.
She writhed, torn between the need to press nearer and an inexplicable urge to break away. “Pants off,” she ordered in a husky voice. “Everything off. Now.”
His chuckle vibrated against the side of her neck, gravelly and warm. He ran his tongue leisurely over the throbbing pulse in her throat, then bit her earlobe. Lifting onto his hands to look down at her, he smirked.
“You’re even bossy in bed.”
“You like me bossy.”
“I do,” he intoned solemnly.
Rosie shivered as the impact of those two words echoed through her.
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I do.
I do want you. I do need you. I do.
She drew a deep breath, then looked him in the eye as she grappled for the bunched hem of her shirt. “Let me handle things here. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
He was quick to obey. He pushed off the bed and started in on his belt. Equally as eager, she stripped off her shirt and pushed her yoga pants down, careful to leave her panties in place. After all, the man was going to have to do some work. His gaze fell to those panties, and Rosie knew she’d made the right decision when she saw him swallow hard.
“You’re not hurrying,” she goaded.
James unfastened his suit pants and drew the zipper about halfway down. He stopped again and swore softly under his breath.
Propping herself on one elbow, she cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong now?”
He held both hands high to signal helpless futility. “Condoms.” He shook his head. “I didn’t plan… I don’t have anything on me.”
Rosie nodded her understanding. A lack of a condom would be a deal-breaker for him. Maybe more than for most people. He’d managed to end up with twins in spite of Megan’s birth control and his own insistence on condoms. The man was a champion for caution.
She tried to quell the blush prickling her cheeks. “No problem.”
She rolled over and opened the nightstand drawer. She extracted an unopened box of condoms. James exhaled in a whoosh, then took the box from her. “You really are always prepared.”
“I’m a grown woman. I take care of me.”
A self-deprecating chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pushed his pants down and toed off his shoes. “I don’t dare ask who you bought these for, but you should know I’m dying to know.”
A small smile lifted the corner of Rosie’s mouth. “Good.”
His chuckle became a full-fledged laugh. “You are a cruel woman, Rosie Herrera. A cruel woman.”
“A little torment adds spice, don’t you think?”
James stumbled as he stripped off his socks, then kicked the mess of clothes aside. “I suppose,” he conceded as he straightened. “But don’t be too rough with me. I may cry.”
Her smile morphed into a smirk. “Oh really?”
“Where do you think Jeff gets all his emo from? Certainly not Megan.”
Rosie shook her head. “Don’t say her name in here.”
James grimaced as he dropped onto the side of the bed wearing nothing but his underwear. Very tight boxer briefs, in fact. So tight, she was surprised his cock didn’t bust right through the stretched-taut knit.
In a gesture so tender tears rushed to Rosie’s eyes, he reached out and swept her hair behind her ear. “There’s nobody but you, Rosie. No one like you.”
This time, she had to swallow hard. She tangled her fingers through his and drew his hand to her mouth, where she brushed a soft kiss across his knuckles. When she looked up, she whispered only, “Too much talking.”
He laughed. “You’re right.”
“Always.” She held him to her.
His mouth closed over hers again, but rather than the heat she expected, this kiss was slow and coaxing. With each draw of his lips and caress of his tongue, he rubbed against her, winding her up like a racecar poised at the starting line.
Rosie’s entire body bowed into his. Her breasts grazed his bare chest, and they groaned in unison. James pushed her onto the bed, then stretched out over her, aligning his long body with hers.
They shouldn’t have matched so well, she thought as he moved against her. The thin barrier of their undergarments did nothing to mute the growing feverish newness of their motions.
She wondered why she even bothered to leave hers on. She pushed her fingers into the waistband of his snug boxer briefs and groped the firm, round globes of his ass. She reveled in his gasp of surprise when she yanked him firm against her. His head popped up. Cool air washed over the nipple he’d been ravaging, but his hands stayed firmly beneath her breasts. Rosie squirmed under him, rubbing herself against him shamelessly.
She snapped the elastic on his briefs. “Time for these to come off.”
James drew two quick, shallow breaths then heaved himself off her. Seconds later, their underwear was nothing but a memory. He stretched out beside her this time, his gaze roving over her as if she were a treasure map he had to memorize.
Rosie thanked God for Monica’s insistence on the spa day the previous Saturday. Every inch of her had been waxed, buffed, and polished. A warm flush made her skin tingle from her toes to her ears. Greedily, she ran her hand over his chest and arm. Rolling into him, she reached for his ass once more. He was perfect. Firm, rounded mounds of muscle that looked equally mouthwatering in worn jeans or tailored trousers. She had admired that tempting ass from afar for too long to keep her hands off them now. He fit in her palm perfectly. His cock pressed into the soft curve of her belly, but Rosie was too blissed out to feel self-conscious. She squeezed his ass, urging him to move against her.
A low, rumbling growl rolled from the depths of him. “Rosie,” he implored, just as she found a rhythm.
“Hurry.”
“I don’t want to hurry,” James insisted. Much to her frustration, he propped his elbow on the bed and rested his head in his hand, gazing down at her. “Tell me what you thought about when you lay here in this bed all alone.”
She didn’t hesitate and saw no reason to be coy. She wanted him to know exactly what he’d put her through over the years. “You and me naked. I’d touch myself and wish you were touching me. I want you to touch me.”
To her surprise, James responded in kind. “I thought about you, too. How I wanted to touch every bit of you. Kiss you. Lick you. Suck you.” He wrapped his hand around his length and began to stroke himself.
Rosie glanced down. The sight of his hand wrapped tight around his cock made her mouth run dry. But, as impatient as she was, she was also intrigued enough by where he was heading with this to play along. “Did you think about touching me here?” She trailed lazy fingertips between her breasts. “Or me touching myself?”
“Both. All. There and lower. Much lower,” he urged.
Rosie widened her eyes and fought a smile. “You want me to touch myself here?” she asked innocently as she slid her fingers down over her sex. She arched her body as she stroked her clit with soft, teasing flicks of her fingertips. “Here? Or is this where you want to touch me?”
“Yes,” he drew the word out on a soft hiss.
She watched his chest rise and fall as his breath raced, each exhalation gusting over her skin. She let her gaze fall to his cock. “I’d picture you hard. Hard. Wanting me.”
“I am.” He grunted softly. “I do.”
She tried to brush his hand aside. “And I want to touch you. Feel you hard and hot in my hand.”
“I’d explode.”
Rosie almost whimpered with frustration when James pushed away from her. He ducked his head and slid down until his legs hung over the end of the bed. Laughing softly, he kissed his way along her stomach, smoothing his hands over her curves, tracing her shape.
Rosie squeezed his sides with her thighs and ran her hands through his rumpled hair as she softly called, “James?”
“Hm?” He pushed her legs wider and pressed his chest against her mound.
Rosie moaned and circled her hips, desperate for the friction she needed. “I want to touch you, too,” she protested.
“In a minute,” he promised distractedly.
* * * *
He caressed her thighs, kneading the tense muscles gently as he brushed his nose across the dark curls covering her sex. Good God, she was soft. Everywhere. And smooth. Except there. He blew a stream of cool air through the damp curls, just to watch her shiver.
Rosie exhaled a long, shaky breath and sucked in another as he looked at her. �
��You’re the devil,” she whispered.
He met her gaze, then lowered his head and inhaled deeply. The musky sent of her arousal enveloped him. “You’re an angel.” His mouth lingered on tender flesh. A full-body tremor ran through her when he dipped his tongue into her. A strangled groan escaped her parted lips as he parted her with the tip of his tongue. He closed his eyes and sank into her, tracing her folds with his tongue—licking, sucking, and teasing her with puffs of air blown against heated flesh. She bucked against him, wordlessly begging for more, but he wasn’t ready to give in to her yet.
His hands tightened on her thighs, the pads of his fingers digging into her skin as he pressed deeper, thrusting his tongue into her. Rosie gasped his name, pushing against him when he circled her clit then thrust his tongue into her again. Her thighs trembled with barely contained need. James nudged her legs open wider still and she whimpered. Actually whimpered.
He drew her into his mouth and sucked gently. She moaned loud enough to coax him into thrusting his index finger into her. She clutched at the quilt, fisting the blanket as he stroked her slowly and steadily, setting a deliberate pace, determined to drive her higher.
“Inside me,” she panted. “I want you inside me.”
Christ, he wanted nothing more, but still, he wasn’t ready to stop yet. “I will be. Soon.”
“Now,” she insisted breathlessly. “Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough?”
With one hard, sucking kiss to her inner thigh, he disengaged with a resigned sigh. He looked at her, the evidence of her desire gleaming on his lips and chin. “You are bossy.”
“Yes, I am. And you’d better suit up.” She turned her head on the pillow. “Where’d those condoms go?”
He snagged the box he’d tossed onto the bed and gave it a shake. “Right here, boss.”
“Get to it,” she ordered.
Rosie watched him with such burning intensity, he bypassed fumbling and tore straight into the box, ripping it in half. Strings of condoms popped out like coiled snakes springing from one of those prank candy tins.
James grabbed one midflight, ripped a condom off the end, then dropped the rest onto the mattress. Rosie reached for him as he opened the foil packet, but James shied away from her touch.
