by Maggie Wells
“No, not now,” he said hoarsely. “I’m too riled.”
Rosie smiled as she subsided onto the pillow. She looked smug. And beautiful. And, God, he was crazy for her. Needing a moment to collect himself, he rolled away from her.
Her fingertips grazed his hip as he sat on the side of the bed and braced his elbows on his knees. “What’s wrong?”
James shook his head, then turned to flash a sheepish smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” he rushed to assure her. “Taking a minute to make sure I don’t embarrass myself.”
Rosie sat too and rubbed her cheek against his back. Her uneven breaths tickled as they skated over his skin. She ran her hand over the slope of his shoulder, then let her hand slide down the length of his arm until she captured his hand.
She fell onto the pillows, urging him to join her. “Let’s embarrass ourselves together, okay?”
James chuckled and repositioned himself on top of her. “What do you have to be embarrassed about? You’re perfect.”
“I’m a control freak,” she reminded him with a sweet smile. “Now, roll over. I didn’t get to touch you. I at least want to look at you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” James smiled as he sassed her but did as she asked. He gripped her thighs to steady her as she scrambled to straddle his hips.
He coiled to kiss her, long and tender. His fingers smoothed her hair from her temples, and his thumbs traced the underside of her jaw. Their lips clung as he broke the kiss. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him intently. When he raised his eyebrows, he gave her a weak half-smile, but her eyes remained sober. Watchful.
“You ready?”
She nodded, holding his gaze. “I’m ready.”
Without giving him another chance to speak, she kissed him hard and deep, her tongue swirling around his. James groaned as she raised onto her knees, then sank down, impaling herself on him. She was hot and tight and the know-it-all smile she wore was almost unbearably sexy. He had to give her credit. She had known all along. He was the fool who’d taken too long to catch on.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she rose and sank again, taking him deeper. When he was buried in her as far as he could go, she leaned back and looked down at their joined bodies. James did the same. A tiny laugh of disbelief escaped him. He was inside her. She was with him. He was making love with Rosie.
Fueled by wonder, he watched as she began to move. She grasped his forearms in a fierce grip, squeezing them with each rise and fall of her hips. He fell away, offering himself to her. Letting her take the lead. She rode him slow and steady at first, letting her body grow accustomed to the invasion. Unsteady, she pitched forward and caught her weight on her hands, changing the angle, desperately trying to find the right spot. Eager to help, James pushed against the crook of her elbows and she toppled onto his chest face-first.
“Hey,” she began to protest. But when he thrust into her, he managed to hit her ignition switch. “Oh!”
“Oh, yes.” He gave a husky chuckle. “Lay down on me.”
Rosie straightened her legs, and his hands claimed her bottom, guiding her firmly but gently as he moved deep inside of her. He ran his hands from her nape to the crevice of her ass, each stroke of his hands matching the urgency with which she moved against him.
He tugged on her hair, urging her to lift her head for a kiss. She obliged him. His lips curved against hers as they clung together, sharing each shaky breath and swallowing each other’s gasps. Rosie tensed and coiled around him, her muscles heavy and taut. James kissed her hungrily, using his hands, lips, and hips to drive her on to where she needed to be.
When she cried out at last, he held her tight as her body grew lax and liquid, melting onto him even as he desperately pumped into her. “Hang on. Wait for me,” he panted.
Her lips found his neck as he bucked as he thrust into her, heedless of anything but the need for his own release. At last, he came. The pristine white bedroom exploded into a kaleidoscope of color, then faded to blackness. James gasped for breath, half afraid he was blacking out or something. From somewhere deep in the recesses of his brain, he remembered his eyes were closed, and sank into the blissful blackness with a smile.
Rosie stirred first. He opened his eyes, and she smiled down at him, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. James laughed softly and squeezed her arm, still too weak for words. He didn’t resist when she laced her fingers through his and raised his arms over his head. Why would he when Rosie rested all of her weight on him.
He stayed as long as he could, but all too soon, his body betrayed him. He slid a hand between them, making certain the condom stayed in place as he slipped from her heat. He rolled her onto her side and slid out from under her.
“Nuh-uh,” Rosie grunted as he left the bed.
“Be right back,” he whispered.
He shuffled into the bathroom and disposed of the condom. Looking around the strange room, he took in the shower curtain patterned with dragonflies, and the fluffy white towels draped over the rack. Nothing was out of place here. Except maybe the naked guy standing there taking in every detail as if he were Sherlock Holmes.
The quiet of the apartment enveloped him. His house was rarely silent. Even in the dead of night. If he was awake in the wee hours these days, it was most likely because someone was sick. Here, the flush of the toilet was nothing less than a roar. He ran water in the sink and splashed his face. Her towels smelled like her. Which made sense, but still made his head swim.
Switching out the light, he dashed past the open blinds in the living room and ducked into the kitchen. He squinted against the blue-white light in the refrigerator, then located some bottled water. Grabbing two, he uncapped one as he hurried to her bedroom.
“Drink?” he asked, offering the uncapped bottle.
She took the water, propped herself high enough to sip, then handed the bottle back with a grateful smile. “Thanks. Will you go to the bathroom for me, too?”
He smirked, then plopped down on the bed once more, jostling her intentionally. He didn’t want her to get too comfortable. He wasn’t quite done with her yet.
She grumbled something about her bladder being full, and he gave her rump a playful swat. “I’d help, but I can’t. I suggest you go fast. The clock is ticking.”
She blinked at him then. “There’s a timer?”
“There are kids,” he reminded her.
Rosie sat up, a pucker of concern between her brows. “Where are they?”
He kissed the crease, and the line smoothed instantly. James made a quick mental note of the remedy for Rosie’s fretting. “They’re at Mike’s. The sitters kept the whole horde at his place, but I need to text to see if they’ll keep them overnight. He’s probably getting home about now.” He leaned down to snag his jacket from the floor.
Extracting his cell, he checked the notification. He had messages from both partners, but they seemed more concerned than urgent. He ignored the string of invectives from Megan and tapped on Mike’s name.
Can you keep the kids tonight? Lots of complications. I’ll explain tomorrow.
He added the last, knowing he’d have a lot of explaining to do to a lot of people. But at the moment, he didn’t care. He glanced over at Rosie and smiled. She’d drew the edge of the duvet over the best bits, but one shapely leg lay naked and vulnerable against the pristine white. The phone chirped and he tore his gaze from her.
No problem. Everything okay?
Everything’s fine. James tapped out the reassurance, then tossed the phone down on top of his clothing.
Abandoning his bottle of water on the floor by the bed, he turned to Rosie with a wolfish grin. “Babysitting secured. Now, where were we?” he asked with an exaggerated leer.
Wearing a saucy grin of her own, Rosie whipped off the comforter, exposing herself to him again. She stretched out an arm, beckoning to him. “I
think we were right here.”
* * * *
The sky was still dark, but with the unerring sense of a parent, James knew it was almost time to go. Rosie sighed in her sleep and nestled closer to him. He should leave her alone. Let her catch at least an hour or two of rest. They’d have to face each other and the repercussions of their night together soon.
But her bottom was plump and warm and right against this crotch. His hand was splayed across her stomach, his fingers mere millimeters from the smooth curves of her breasts. They’d made love two more times before falling into a stupor. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex three times in one night.
He blinked, then stared into the darkness as if the answers he needed were shrouded in the shadows. He wasn’t certain he ever had. Twice, sure. But three times? Three times usually meant spending an entire night together. Spending nights with women was not his standard operating procedure. In his pre-parenthood days, it had been a matter of preserving his space. Since he’d become a father, any sex life he’d enjoyed was more a matter of proximity and logistics. He hadn’t had time to linger over a meal in four years. He didn’t have hours to while away in some woman’s bed.
Then again, none of those women had been Rosie.
His dick stretched and hardened as the instant replay started in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will the arousal away. He didn’t want Rosie to think he was some kind of sex maniac. He was halfway through saying the alphabet backward—one of Jeffie’s favorite tricks—when she leaned against him. James froze, the letter M flashing like a neon sign in his head.
“Mmm,” Rosie hummed as if reading his mind.
His dick grew harder still, and he slid his hand northward until the curve of her breast rested innocently between his thumb and forefinger. Nothing too forward. He was offering some extra support, that’s all. He held still, his breath caught deep in his lungs, as he awaited another signal.
A sleepy sigh was all he needed. Rosie moved against him again and ran the arch of her foot down his leg.
James groaned into the dark mass of her hair. “You’re killing me,” he whispered.
Rosie didn’t reply. She simply hooked her leg over his, opening herself to him if he wanted to partake.
And, despite the possibly record-setting bouts they’d already had, he found he was as eager to have her one more time as he’d been the first time.
Groping under the pillow, James located the string of condom packets they’d been steadily depleting, and tore one off with one hand. Impatient with the disruption, he relinquished his hold on her breast and reached over their heads to tear the wrapper. He moved away enough to roll the condom on, then slid down to position himself at her entrance.
She was warm from sleep and swollen from their previous encounters. He pushed into her as gently as he could, but hesitated when she clenched around him. Without a word, Rosie reached behind him, pushed her own leg open wider.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered into her ear.
“We’ve been hurting each other for years,” she whispered back. “What difference does a little more make?”
“Oh, Rosie,” he crooned as he pushed into her.
She hummed drowsily and took him deeper. “Take,” she ordered in a sleep-husky voice.
He did as she commanded. Gripping her soft inner thigh, he spread her wider still and thrust into her. They groaned in unison. But rather than the frenzied rhythms of their earlier lovemaking, they settled into a slow, pleasurable thrust and parry.
Their earlier ardor spent, their joining seemed to stretch on forever.
In. Out. God, would he ever get enough of her tits?
In. Out. She smelled incredible. The scent of her filled his nostrils. Clean soap, sweet perfume, and raunchy sex. He wanted to wake up fucking her every day.
In. Out. Her pussy squeezed him tighter with each thrust, making the thought of ever leaving those snug, wet confines unthinkable.
In. Out. She slid her hand between her legs and stroked her clit. James craned his neck, desperate to watch her work herself over, but the angle was wrong. He dropped onto the pillow, frustrated, but even more aroused.
“I’m not going to be able to come again.” Her breath came rough and ragged. “Take yours.”
“But—”
“Yes. Take it,”
The implied surrender almost unraveled him, but still he fought the good fight. “I don’t want—”
“Yes, you do,” she panted. “Take me. Take what you want,” she chanted in time with his increasingly eager thrusts.
She was right. He did want to take. For a few minutes, he didn’t want to think about anyone else’s needs. Only his.
Holding her open wide, he slammed into her with an abandon he hadn’t felt in God knows how long. Lost to everything but sensation, he gave himself over to the pleasure of her wrapped tight as a fist around him. But when he came, he didn’t shout as he had previous times.
No, this time, he gathered her close and allowed her body to drain his. He emptied himself into her, knowing she’d hold him safe. He strengthened his embrace as the quakes subsided into silent pulses of gratitude.
Eventually, her limbs grew limp and lax. Her leg slid off his, and she rolled away from him. James peeled himself off her and collapsed. Through the slats in the blinds, he could see the pale gray light of dawn infiltrating the night. Rosie gave a soft snuffle, possibly a snore. He turned to smile at her and found she’d burrowed into a pillow. Probably trying to get away from his voracious advances.
With a sigh, he scowled down at the latex clinging to his deflated dick and psyched himself for another trek to the bathroom. This time, he gathered his clothes as he rolled off the bed, then tucked them under his arm as he coaxed the rumpled sheet out from under Rosie.
She grumbled and shooed him away with a lazy flick of her hand, but he didn’t quit until he had her mostly covered. In the bathroom, he splashed his face, slicked his hair with water, then dressed as quickly and quietly as he could. After checking to be sure he had his keys, wallet and phone, he tiptoed into Rosie’s room in his buffed and polished wingtips.
“Rosie?” he called softly.
She snored in response.
Smiling, he gave the covers one last tug, then placed a tender kiss to the crown of her head. “See you in a couple hours,” he whispered as he straightened.
She mumbled something like, “Order sticky notes,” then snuggled her cheek against the pillowcase.
Wearing a grin he’d forgotten he owned, James tiptoed out her door, down the steps, and into the frigid February dawn.
Chapter 14
James pulled into the parking lot of Trident Security the following morning a changed man. Not because of the night of passion he’d spent between the sheets with Rosie, but more because he knew what she meant to him. Sure, there’d be hell to pay with his partners, and he figured he’d likely have to answer for his early-morning mad dash out her door, but Rosie would understand. She always understood. Her empathy was what was great about her. Buoyed by the thought, he grinned at the woman seated behind the central console.
Her smile was cool, but he didn’t let her demeanor bother him. They were at work. And, Rosie knew his kids weren’t an excuse, they were a reality. A complicated reality. He’d had no choice but to roll out of Rosie’s warm bed and haul out to Mike’s to retrieve his progeny. Once he had the boys strapped in, he’d driven all the way out to the north suburbs to drop them off at his mom’s before heading to his place to shower and change.
Luckily, Mike wasn’t a morning person, so he didn’t have too many questions prepared. He thanked his friend profusely and promised to catch him at the office. He didn’t feel guilty about spending the night loving Rosie. He felt proud. But he still wasn’t ready for questions. He didn’t want reality intruding on his happin
ess.
As if she’d sensed his upbeat mood, his mother tactfully made no comment about the previous night’s dress pants and shirt. When he got to the house, Megan’s stuff was still strewn about, and the door to the spare bedroom was firmly closed. Not mentally prepared for another round with Megan, he’d slipped to his room to change his clothes as fast as humanly possible, then rushed out through the sliding door.
This was undoubtedly going to be a day of confrontations, but he didn’t have to go courting them. First, Rosie. Mike and Colm were sure to weigh-in. And knowing her as he did, James wasn’t fool enough to think he’d heard the last from Megan. He’d need all his powers of smooth talking to soothe ruffled feathers and get everybody on an even keel, but he was psyched and ready.
The ironic thing was, as long as he had avoided this particular situation, everything seemed okay. At long last, James felt like the scattered pieces of his life were finally falling into place. He’d been with Rosie and that was where he needed to be all along.
Damn, she was smart.
His partners would soon realize he and Rosie were important to each other, but they’d never let their personal relationship alter their working relationship. And Megan. Once and for all, he felt free of Megan. Sure, technically she was still living in this house. And, yes, she’d always be the mother of his children. But for the first time since he laid eyes on her, he didn’t feel the need to jump in and fix things for her. She was a grown woman, and it was time for her to start fixing her own problems. Her stunt with the newspapers made it clear she was more than capable of thinking outside the box when it came to taking care of herself. She’d have to figure this out on her own, and, with the help of one of her many, many dear friends, get the hell out of his house.
Fixing a smile that wasn’t too cocky, nor too sheepish, James approached Rosie’s command console.
Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in the same waves as the previous night. But then, she’d been naked and his. As if she could read his thoughts, her dark eyes went wide and fixed on him. James had a flashback, and a damn good one. Rosie rising above him, thick glossy hair spilling over her shoulders like inky satin. Her sighs. Her moans. The way she spoke his name when she climaxed. James. Just James. As if he were all she needed to be happy.
