Room 1208
Page 8
“Come here,” he murmured, pulling her into his chest and covering her mouth with his.
All of the noise around them diminished, drowned out by the loud thundering of her heart.
When he eventually lifted his head he rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, his eyes delving into hers. “You know what I think, Maggie mine?”
She slowly shook her head, unable to speak.
“I think you’ve been trying to find me ever since that night and just didn’t know it. It was you who came up with the idea for that beer ad, wasn’t it? The ad that had me asking Sean to hunt down your agency.”
She felt her face brighten as realization dawned. It’d been a simple ad, an overhead shot of a woman’s hand sliding a note across a glossy bar table towards a man’s hand, the glimpse of an old-fashioned room key peeking from beneath the note, the numbers 1208 visible. Beside his hand was a glass of beer. It had been a subtle and sexy ad, the message clearly conveying that the man who drank Goldfinch Beer always got the girl.
She recalled how nervous she’d been when she’d presented the idea to Tim and Rob, but she also remembered how vitally important it was to her that the client like it. That same anxious feeling had assailed her for the last week as she’d fought to get the Jagz Vodka ad details just right. “Yes,” she admitted. “But I never realized what I was really doing until now. I mean, what were the chances that you’d even see that ad? It was a regional campaign.”
He kissed her forehead. “I had a strange feeling from the moment I saw it, but I didn’t put two and two together until I saw the vodka ad. Like you say, it’s a miracle.”
She snuggled against him. The yawn came out of nowhere, catching her by surprise. “What time is it?” she murmured.
“Almost five.”
She sat up. “Holy cow, I’ve been up for almost twenty four hours!”
He laughed. “Me too. But I don’t feel tired.” His eyes went dark with pent-up desire.
Maggie blushed. “I could use a cup of coffee,” she demurred.
In the gray light of early morning Times Square didn’t appear as bright and glaring. They stopped at a vending cart where Jason bought two cups of coffee and a bear claw. They handed the warm pastry back and forth, taking bites and drinking their coffee as they ambled back to the hotel. Delivery trucks of all sizes moved up and down the streets or blocked alleyways. Workers opened caged storefronts, swept and hosed down dirty sidewalks. A subway rumbled underground, steam rose up from a sidewalk grate.
It was just as they’d rounded the corner near the entrance to the hotel that Jason said—his voice far too casual to hide that he’d been thinking about this for a while. “Did you date anyone…had you been in any, uh, relationships before that night in Chicago, Maggie?”
Her feet suddenly felt like they were glued to the pavement. She could only stare at him mutely as realization spread across his features. His expressions were almost comical as he looked at her with disbelief, then male pride, then fury. His face went pale.
“You little idiot,” he muttered, his eyes turning into ice.
Maggie gasped when he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the hotel entrance. She dragged her feet. “Jason, let me explain…”
“Don’t say a word,” he seethed. “Wait until we get up to the room.”
She was grateful there was no one in the lobby other than a yawning front desk clerk and another hotel employee setting up the coffee service. Neither one appeared to notice anything unusual as Jason moved quickly towards the elevators, his hand gripping her elbow in an unbreakable hold.
She stared at his reflection in the polished metal elevator door as the car ascended. He looked absolutely furious. She shivered, feeling a trace of real fear. How well did she know this man, really?
He held out his hand for the room key when they reached 1208. She was shaking so badly by that point that he took her purse from her hands and retrieved the key. He shoved the door open and propelled her inside, tossing her purse aside as he swung her around to face him. His fingers dug into her forearm, his fierce blue eyes stabbed into her.
“What the hell were you thinking that night?” His voice was low and seething which somehow made it sound even worse than if he’d shouted at her.
She swallowed, unable to speak, staring at him with wide eyes.
“I could have been anyone! A rapist, a serial killer, for Chrissake!”
She swallowed again, lowered her eyes from the burning anger in his. “B-but you weren’t.”
He cupped her face in his hands, holding it in an almost painful grip as he brought his own face closer, forcing her to look at him. “You should thank God that I wasn’t, Maggie Rose. You should thank—” He bit off his tirade, clearly too enraged for words. He pressed his lips together in a taut line, shook his head back and forth a few times, something other than anger flickering in his eyes, something that almost looked like fear. His voice was deadly quiet when he was finally able to speak again. “When I think of what might have happened to you if I hadn’t been there… If it hadn’t been me…” He blinked several times then suddenly released her, brushed past her and strode over to the corner of the room. He stood motionless, his back to her, ramrod straight.
Maggie found her breath. It sank in at last that his anger stemmed from genuine fear, fear that something terrible might have happened to her. Her heart ached for him even as it swelled with this further proof of how much he cared for her. She stepped further into the room, paused a few feet behind him. “But it was you, Jason. I am so grateful that it was you. I hoped and prayed that it would be someone like you.”
He remained silent for so long that she wondered if she might truly have lost him. But when he finally turned around the anger had been replaced with confusion and something that looked like regret. “Help me understand why you would do that. Why you’d let a total stranger take your virginity. Why not a boyfriend? A man you were in a steady relationship with?”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Tell me.” He stepped closer to her.
“Okay, but can we please sit down? I’m feeling just a little intimidated with you hovering over me like that.”
He raised his eyebrows, took a step back. He gestured to the armchair. “Sit down, then.”
She sidled by him and perched on the edge of the chair. He sat down on the corner of the bed, folded his arms across his chest, his gaze level and remote. She rubbed her lips together. “I’ve never shared what happened that night with anyone, even my therapist,” she murmured.
When he said nothing, she gave a deep sigh. “You have to agree that I didn’t have the best role models growing up, Jason. All I knew about sex until I was about fourteen was that it was a weapon, a way to taunt and hurt. I never saw any examples at home of what a real, loving relationship should be. Sex Ed at school taught me the basics of reproduction, but that was just the how to’s. We didn’t go to church, so I’d never learned any kind of spiritual or religious perspective on sex and relationships either. I was completely on my own.” She looked down at her clenched hands. “Because I was fat, because I didn’t like myself, I didn’t have the normal boyfriend experiences most girls have in school. I’ve never been on a date.”
He inhaled sharply. “Not even after you lost the weight?”
She continued to focus on her hands, unable to look at him, afraid that she might see pity in his eyes. “I was scared. By the time I’d reached a point where I felt more comfortable and confident with myself, I was almost thirty years old. I dreaded all of those inevitable questions that can come up on dates, like how many relationships I’d been in, had I ever been in love, where and when was my first time. You know what I mean? I didn’t want to tell anyone that I was a virgin and the reasons why. But I didn’t want to make up lies either and start a relationship on the wrong foot. I just thought—I knew—that once I didn’t have that fear and dread hanging around my neck that I could finally move forward, be more comfortable and open.”
Maggie glanced up at him. He was glaring again. She felt a stir of reciprocal anger. “It wasn’t like I didn’t put a lot of thought into it. I was very cautious about the location and my safety. I was already making plans to go to Denver the following week and take care of the matter there. I didn’t expect Sarah to leave me alone at that hotel. The opportunity presented itself and I took it.” Her tone was vehement as she matched his frown with her own. “And I’m glad I did, Jason. Glad. I have no regrets.”
He shook his head. “What if it hadn’t been me? What if it’d been some asshole who was rough with you?” His frown was stark against his pale features.
Heart near bursting with emotion, she dropped to her knees in front of him, tugged at his hands and brought them to her face. “But it was you,” she said again. “Why agonize over what might have happened? Remember what did happen. You gave me the most beautiful night, the most wonderful memories of my life.”
His features relaxed. He traced his fingers over her face. “Did I, Maggie? I didn’t hurt you?”
Her eyes moistened. “No. You were so gentle with me.”
“That second time…I was rough.”
“I loved every minute of it.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, rubbed his thumb against her temple. He swallowed. “I wish I’d known. I would have done things differently.”
Her swelling heart forced all the air out of her lungs. “Oh?” she gasped. “Like what? Everything seemed absolutely perfect to me.”
He pressed a smiling kiss to her forehead, then brushed his mouth whisper-soft over her eyelids. “I.” He kissed her nose. “Would’ve.” He kissed one cheek. “Gone.” He kissed the other cheek. “Much slower.” He kissed her mouth. His warm tongue traced the outline of her parted lips before taking a leisurely dive inside, touching her own tongue in languid inquiry as his thumbs stroked her cheeks in unhurried, gentle circles.
Maggie sighed into his mouth, savoring his slow, hot kiss, so different from any kiss they’d shared before. Everything, at last, was out in the open. She had no more secrets to share other than that she had fallen in love with him, was in love with him. She poured all of that love into the kiss, communicated it in her hands as she wrapped them around his broad shoulders and tugged him closer.
Eventually he drew his mouth from hers, brushed his morning beard across her cheek as he muttered in her ear. “I lied, Maggie mine.”
“Hmm?” She licked his ear.
“There’s no way on earth I can go slow with you. Not right now. I’ve been hard for you since you opened that door. If I’m not inside of you in the next two minutes I’m going to embarrass myself.”
Her laugh was sultry. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
In a heartbeat she was on her back on the bed as Jason yanked off her shoes and threw them across the room. She canted her hips, making it easier for him to pull off her yoga pants and underwear while she yanked her sweatshirt over her head. Her arms got caught in the sleeves, and for a few seconds her face was trapped inside the soft cotton material. She burst out laughing as he swiftly completed the task. He knelt over her, a wicked grin on his face as he unsnapped her bra and tossed it aside. His hands latched onto her breasts, thumbs grazing her erect nipples, his expression lusty and yearning.
Maggie undid the button of his jeans, pulled the zipper down. She rubbed her palm over the rigid bulge of his erection concealed by his black underwear.
Jason sucked in a breath. “Easy there, sugar. I’m about to burst.”
“I love it when you call me sugar,” she teased, tugging his jeans and underwear down at the same time.
He leaned back, tearing at the buttons on his shirt.
Seconds later they were both completely naked, kneeling in front of each other on the king-sized bed. Jason touched her shoulders with trembling fingers, drawing her closer until they were pressed together, skin to skin. He sat back on his haunches, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other cupping her butt. “Put your legs around me,” he demanded hotly, sucking at her earlobe.
As she brought her legs around his waist he lifted her up, holding her just above his massive erection. “Put me inside you,” he demanded again.
She reached between them, taking him in hand and guiding him to her wet entrance. “So bossy you are—oh, oh, God, that feels so good.” She sank down on him to the hilt, gasping and moaning as she felt his long, thick heat filling her. She clutched at his back, fingers digging into muscle and skin as he used his hand at her butt to lift her up and down.
He buried his mouth against her throat, teeth nipping, sucking, his chest reverberating with deep groans of pleasure. Maggie rubbed her breasts against him, sweet sensation darting from the tips of her breasts to her feminine core. She arched back, brought her fingers to her clitoris and stroked in feverish circles, faster, faster, sensation spiraling higher, stronger until it all became too much. She wailed his name in ecstasy as she came apart in his arms.
“Maggie,” he shouted as his orgasm chased after hers, spilling liquid heat deep inside of her.
He grunted, tilted forward, pressing her down into the mattress, staying inside of her as he continued to rock his hips against hers. “Can’t get enough of you,” he huffed against her breasts. “Will never get enough.”
She tunneled her fingers through his hair, her eyes closed, ready to surrender to a blissful sleep when she became aware that he hadn’t softened inside of her. He was still hard, his thrusts becoming more forceful, demanding a reciprocal response from her. She expressed her willing consent by eagerly wrapping her legs around him, locking her ankles over his lower back as she clutched his head against her breasts.
He took a nipple into his mouth, tongued and suckled her, drawing a keening sound from her throat. He squeezed her other breast, a fingernail rasping across the tip. She cried out again, almost delirious with the jolts of pleasure he ignited with every touch. She clenched around his erection, her body shaking with a second orgasm.
And still it wasn’t enough. He continued to feast on her breasts, his pelvis digging into hers as he tried to push deeper, harder. He rubbed against that special place inside of her and she arched her back in surprise, shocked that she could come again so soon. She opened her mouth in a soundless moan as she surrendered body and soul. And this time he came with her, pulsating deep inside of her, murmuring her name over and over until he finally collapsed on top of her.
Through the haze of encroaching, satiated sleep she felt him pull out of her and roll to his side. He dragged her against him, wrapped his arms around her as though she were his anchor in a stormy sea.
“Maggie,” he whispered. “Mine.”
4
The jarring ring of the bedside telephone rudely pulled her out of a deep, dreamless sleep. She stretched across the bed to answer it, eyes half closed. “Hello?”
It was a recorded message, a wake-up call. It was eight o’clock.
Sweet, blissful memories of making love with Jason flooded over her. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see him lying beside her, but his side of the bed was empty. No sounds came from the bathroom. He was gone. She was almost on the verge of tears until she saw the folded note next to her pillow. She opened it. Good morning, Maggie Rose. I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll see you soon. Hope you didn’t mind the wake-up call. Thank you for another beautiful night. J.
She pressed the note to her smiling, tremulous mouth. When the phone rang again she reached for it eagerly, happiness in her voice, hoping it was him. “Hello?”
“Hey, Maggie, it’s Tim. Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
She guessed she’d probably slept for less than two hours, but she felt wide awake, excitement at the knowledge that she would see Jason in only a couple of hours pouring adrenaline through her veins. “I sure did,” she fibbed.
“Good, good. I’m heading d
own to the lobby café in about forty minutes. Can you be ready by then? Rob wants to strategize before we head over to Jagz.”
After assuring Tim she’d be there, she hung up the phone and raced to the bathroom. She turned on the shower then took a look at herself in the mirror. She did a double-take, eyes wide with horror when she saw the reddish-purple mark on one side of her neck, just above her collarbone. Against her pale skin it stood out like a dollop of blackberry jam in a glass of milk.
“That man!” she seethed even as her body tingled with the heady memory of his mouth at her neck. “Did he have to give me a hickey right there?”
And then she started laughing. Anyone who could’ve seen her at that moment would’ve thought she was a candidate for a straitjacket. Her very first hickey. She remembered the fast girls in high school wearing them with pride. She’d been both appalled and envious. It was a sign of ownership, the age-old need for man to mark his territory, his possessions.
Thank God she’d thrown a scarf in her carry-on at the last minute, thinking she might need it on the plane. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would have to do.
Thirty minutes later she took one last inspection in the hallway mirror. The black, sleeveless sheath dress hugged her curves, emphasizing her sculpted shoulders and arms. The length hit just above the knees. She’d decided to keep her legs bare, a pair of nude pumps giving the illusion of longer legs. The final—unplanned—accessory was a silk scarf in sapphire blue, twisted just so to hide the betraying mark on her neck. She hoped it stayed put.
Grabbing her black leather handbag, she headed out of the room. There was only a little over one hour to go before she saw Jason again.
Mike Brosky hailed her when she entered the busy café in the hotel lobby. “Mags! Over here.”
She threaded her way through the tables to a booth in the corner where Tim, Rob and Kayla were seated. Mike had stood up to greet her. “Good morning,” he said, taking her elbow and pulling her in to kiss her cheek. “You look great!”
Maggie flushed at the unexpected gesture. Samantha and Dan had been right; he was definitely hitting on her. Talk about poor timing. “Good morning,” she murmured, managing to draw gently and politely away instead of giving in to the urge to yank her arm out of his grip. His palm rested on her lower back, guiding her into the booth. He sat down beside her, the fabric of his suit jacket brushing against her bare arm. She thought of another booth and another man and wished the next forty minutes or so would fly by as quickly as possible.