by Maggie Riley
“I didn’t say—” I tried again, but Reagan turned on me, her brown eyes flashing. In my surprise, I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall and I realized that she had essentially pinned me to the living room wall with the sheer force of her anger. Anger, which didn’t seem to be dissipating. She got up on her toes and shook her finger in my face.
“I’ll have you know that I am quite capable of making decisions about all aspects of my life. Including my sex life. And if I want to have sex with you, then the only people that need to be involved in that decision making are me. And you.”
Her chest was heaving, her cheeks were flushed and she had never looked more gorgeous. I had to clench my fists to keep from grabbing her and kissing her, which probably would have not been an appropriate response to her righteous tirade.
“I am not some innocent. I’ve had sex. Ok . . . I haven’t had a lot of sex. And maybe I haven’t had any lately, but I have had sex. And I’ll have it again if I want to. With whoever I want to.”
She took in a gasp of air and some of her anger seemed to fade. She glanced down at my chest, apparently only just then realizing that I wasn’t wearing a shirt. A different kind of flush spread across her cheeks, and she swallowed. Hard.
“That’s all I had to say,” she said, pushing her glasses back on her nose and taking a step backwards. “I’ll go now.”
But before she could, I grabbed her elbow.
“Do I get to respond?” I asked.
“Um.” she looked startled. Apparently, she hadn’t thought past the well-earned speech she had just leveled at me. “I suppose so.”
“You’re right,” I said, pulling her so she was facing me again, my hands on her arms. “And I was wrong. I should have talked to you, not to my sister.”
Her face softened a bit. “Ok, well, now that we agree—”
“So let’s talk now.” I pulled her a little closer, and I could see her pulse beating at the base of her neck.
“Talk?” she stuttered.
“About sex,” I lowered my voice. “About your thoughts on the matter.”
“Um.” Reagan’s lips were parted. Her perfect beautiful lips. “I’m for it?”
“Yeah?” I ran a hand down her arm and then up again, smiling when she shivered. “And how about sex with an arrogant, patronizing asshole?”
She swallowed. “I’m—” she seemed to be gathering her courage before she lifted her eyes to mine. “I’m interested.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” The response was breathy.
“I’m going to kiss you, Reagan,” I told her.
“Just kiss me?” she asked, her eyes wide.
I smiled. “I’ll do whatever you want,” I said and then I covered her mouth with mine.
Chapter 23
REAGAN
I was pretty sure I was dreaming. Except I had never, ever had a dream as good as this one. Josh pressed his mouth against mine, his hands coming up to tangle in my hair. I melted into him, my palms pressing against his chest—his glorious, naked chest—and I moaned as he angled my head to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept into my mouth, meeting mine, hot and wet and I lost myself in the moment, the world seeming to spin around me.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured against my lips. “I never would have been able to stay away.”
“I don’t want you to,” I told him, sliding my hands around his waist, pulling myself closer, reveling in the way his body was so hard and strong against mine.
Then, before I knew what was happening, Josh swung me around, pinning me between his chest and the wall. One hand was fisted in my hair while the other curved downward, coasting over my back until it found my ass. He cupped it and yanked my hips against his. I arched against him, my leg coming up to curve around his thigh. He released my hair to grab my knee, pulling me up until my feet left the ground, until both of my legs were locked around his waist.
He groaned into my mouth as his hard length found my soft center, our bodies perfectly aligned. I rolled my hips, lost in the sensation, lost in the moment. His fingers were tight on my waist as he buried his face in my neck.
“Fuck,” he growled. “You feel so good.”
“More,” I panted, my hands sliding between us, down his stomach to his jeans.
Feeling bold, I slipped my hand inside, finding nothing but him. He groaned as I stroked him, my palm exploring his length. I had never felt like this before. Never acted this way with a man. So daring. So brave. But I wanted him with an intensity that scared me. And I let that guide me. Put aside my doubts, my fears and embraced this side of myself. The side of myself that took a man in her hand, touching him as he clutched my hips and bit my neck. The side of myself that seemed to be pushing him to his limit.
Then, without warning, I was pulled away from the wall. My legs still around him, my arms going around his neck, I found myself carried to the bedroom, Josh’s mouth hard against mine, his tongue greedy and eager.
I barely registered the soft mattress on my back as I was lowered to the bed, my attention focused on the long, hard body pressing against my breasts, against my stomach, against me. A hand cupped my face, tilting my head up to meet Josh’s lips, his other hand rocking my hips forward against his denim-clad cock.
I was wearing too many clothes. Once again, my hand went to his jeans, but this time I struggled to open them, distracted by the hot, opened mouth kisses that were being placed down the length of my throat. A hand preceded them, effortlessly unbuttoning my shirt with a mere flick of his fingers, exposing my skin to Josh’s mouth.
By the time my shirt was peeled away, his tongue teasing at my belly button, I was nearly out of my mind with need. I wrestled out of my top, my hands going to the zipper of my jeans. But Josh’s hand covered mine, stilling my movement.
“There’s no rush,” he said, kissing me again, taking his time.
But I was in a rush. I wanted him now.
Desperately, I arched against him, but he didn’t hurry. Instead, he pinned my arms above my head, holding them there with one big hand wrapped around my wrists. Then he leaned back a little, his other hand tracing the side of my body.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said before unhooking the front of my bra with one quick twist of his fingers.
It was nothing but a simple, cotton bra, but he pushed it aside as if it was made of silk, letting out a deep, masculine groan as my breasts were revealed to him.
“Fuck,” he managed before lowering his mouth to me.
I had never thought much about my breasts. I had long ago accepted that I was flat chested and most guys preferred larger boobs. I never expected to drive a man wild with the sight of my naked chest. But then, I had never expected a man like Josh at all.
His hot, wet tongue traced one nipple while he plucked the other with his long, talented fingers. My back rose off the bed as he took my breast in his mouth, sucking and teasing me until I was nearly mindless with need. Then he switched to the other nipple. My legs were still wrapped around him, and I curled my hips upward, needing more, needing all of him.
“Josh,” I gasped. “Please, please, I need—”
He pulled back, his eyes dark with lust.
“What do you want?” He slid his hand down my back, going under my jeans, under my panties, his palm hot against my bare ass.
He pulled me tighter against him, rolling his hips forward. My head fell back, pleasure coursing through me.
“Yes,” I moaned. “I want that. I want you.”
He released me, and I fell back on the bed, sprawled there, already missing the heat of his body. But within seconds, he released my wrists and hooked his hands into the waist of my pants, pulling them and my panties off in a single, smooth movement.
I was naked in front of him. My instinct was to cover up, to close my eyes, but I looked up instead. Josh was sitting back on his feet, staring down at me.
“Damn.” His voice was hoarse. He ran a hand over his mouth.
My glasses fogged up.
I heard a low rumble of laughter as Josh gently removed my glasses and put them on the bedside table, grabbing a condom as he reached across me. Once he had rolled it on, he came close enough that I could see him, his hands cupping my face. He kissed me. Sweetly. Deeply.
“Now, Josh,” I urged, spreading my legs, making a place for him there.
With one thrust he was inside me, filling me. I cried out with the perfect, intense pleasure of it all, Josh holding himself still as I adjusted to his size.
“God, Reagan.” His mouth was hot against my neck. “You feel so good.”
Then he began to move.
It was everything. It was more. I lost myself in the sensation of Josh inside me, of the thrust of his hips, the press of his chest against my breasts. His mouth was everywhere—on my throat, my face, my lips. My hands returned the favor, roaming over his wide shoulders, down his back, digging my nails into his perfect ass as he pounded against me.
He wrapped my hair around his hand, tilting my head up to meet him, his tongue licking into my mouth, the rhythm of it, matching the thrust of his cock. I hooked my legs around his back, and felt him go even deeper. A low groan escaped him, the sound of it driving me wild.
Grabbing my hands, he pinned them above my head, just as he had done before. With his other arm braced on the bed next to me, he took his time, pulling out slowly, teasing me with each agonizingly smooth thrust. I marveled at him, at the muscles bunching and releasing in his chest, in his arms. He watched me, his eyes clear and unwavering, the expression on his face nearly enough to take me over the edge.
I had never felt anything like this before. Never been so lost in someone. And I was completely lost with Josh. My back rose off the bed as he moved faster, releasing my hands, his palms pressed against the bed, fucking me harder. I hooked my ankles together behind his back, drawing him deeper, closer. The rest of the world dissolved as he took me, his movements becoming more and more urgent, more desperate.
“I want to feel you come,” he rasped, his breath hot against my ear.
I was close. So close. Then Josh flexed his hips, hitting my clit perfectly and I exploded, pleasure shuddering through me, my voice going hoarse as I cried out, his name on my lips. Bright lights burst behind my eyelids, the room blurry, not because I wasn’t wearing my glasses, but because I was too far gone to focus on anything but the man thrusting inside me.
He let out a rough groan, his body moving faster, his fingers now clutching my ass, his mouth on my breasts. And then he pushed himself deeply inside me, so deep, so right, and I felt his release find him. I held him against me as he came, all his muscles tensing one last time before he collapsed, his face buried in my hair.
JOSH
It took me a while to catch my breath. At first, I didn’t even want to move, didn’t want to pull away from Reagan’s warmth, and by the way she was clutching me, it seemed like she didn’t want me to either. But I knew if I wasn’t careful, I could crush her with my weight, so I carefully withdrew and got out of bed to take care of the condom.
When I came back, she was propped up on her elbows, her glasses back on. I saw her eyes widen a little as I approached and I felt a swell of masculine pride in receiving that reaction so immediately after sex. I stretched out next to her on the bed, drawing my hand over her naked hip. God, she was beautiful.
“Hi.” I leaned up to kiss her.
She kissed me back, but I could sense there was some shyness there. And that was endearing as hell.
“Hi,” she said, blush staining her cheeks.
“I’m glad we talked,” I told her.
She got even redder. “Me too,” she confessed.
“You’re a great conversationalist,” I teased. “Really enthusiastic.”
She reached over and slapped me on the arm. I quickly pounced, pinning her to the bed, her arms beside her head. Looking down at her, I felt a strange tug in my heart. She was so beautiful, her dark hair spread out across the white sheets, her mouth swollen and red, her face flushed, her eyes dilated. Already I wanted her again.
“I like you,” I said before I could think any better of it.
She blinked up at me.
“I like you, too,” she said.
I felt a strange rush of nerves. Sex had always come easily to me, but it had never felt like it had with Reagan. And this thing now, this playful post-coital thing, well, I didn’t have a lot of experience with that at all. I was usually out of the door by this point. But I wasn’t in any rush. In fact, I wanted to linger. For a good long time. To pull her up against me and fall asleep together. I had never felt that way before.
And then I realized that my sister had been wrong. Had been wrong about everything. Because for the first time, I had no interest in keeping this casual. Casual was the last thing I wanted when it came to Reagan. I felt an intense rush of possessiveness, one that startled me. But not enough to deny to myself what I wanted. What I was willing to ask for.
“You look worried,” Reagan said, her voice revealing her own nervousness.
“Not worried,” I told her, kissing the tip of her nose. “Just finding myself in new territory.”
She raised an eyebrow. “The territory of liking the person you’ve just slept with?”
“The territory of liking the person I’ve just slept with enough to be exclusive,” I said, watching her expression.
There was surprise at first. And then, a smile. A wonderful, bright, Reagan smile.
“Really?” she asked.
Relief unfurled within me and suddenly I felt better than I had in months. Maybe even better than I had felt when I was playing baseball. Because as much as I loved the sport, it had never, ever smiled up at me the way that Reagan was right now. It had never made me feel warm and satisfied inside.
I nodded. “But you’ll have to be gentle,” I told her. “I’ve never done this before.”
She leaned up and kissed me. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m always gentle.”
Then, without warning, she gave me a push, rolling me onto my back. Straddling me, she sat up and dragged her fingers down my chest. Immediately I was hard again.
“Unless you don’t want me to be gentle,” she said, and proceeded to rock my world.
Chapter 24
REAGAN
I woke with a warm, hard body pressed against my back. Josh’s hand was wrapped possessively around my waist, his breath tickling the back of my neck. I snuggled closer to him, savoring the rich, unique smell of him.
This felt like a fairy tale. Like I was Cinderella, but Cinderella before the ball. Cinderella as she was. And Josh was the prince who didn’t care if I had soot on my nose. I thought of the play, of Midsummer Night’s Dream and how I had always related to Helena, the lovelorn girl obsessed with a man who never gave her a second glance. But this morning, I was Hermia. The girl who was adored. Beloved. With, or without fairy dust.
I felt Josh stir, his hand tightening around my hip. Unable to help myself, I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and rolled over in his arms. He blinked, waking slowly, his mouth curving into a smile. His smile made me breathless. From afar it had been incredible. From this close, directed solely at me, it was magical.
“Morning,” he said, his voice husky.
“Morning.” I pushed my glasses back up my nose, a little worried they’d fog up again from the intensity with which Josh was staring at me.
He kissed me, not minding morning breath or bedhead or a million other early morning things that had caused previous men to crawl out of bed and head to the bathroom before saying good morning. Then again, not a lot of men had stayed the nigh
t, and the few that had certainly hadn’t held me as if they were unwilling to let go.
“Do you have to work today?” Josh asked, his hand exploring, sliding down the length of my naked back.
I only managed to shake my head as his palm curled around my ass, pulling me closer to him. To the part of him that was very much awake. My eyes widened and he laughed, kissing my nose, my cheek, my throat.
“I’ve been meaning to explore the city,” he said, his voice rumbling against my neck, twisting his fingers around my hair. “But I just haven’t found the right tour guide.”
“I’ll show you!” I sat up quickly, displacing him in my excitement.
He laughed and I blushed. Pulling me back down into his arms, he kissed me, sliding his tongue into my mouth. I practically melted in his arms.
“There’s no rush, is there?” he asked, his hand making its way between my legs.
I arched against him. “No rush at all,” I managed before I lost myself in his touch for the rest of the morning.
When we finally crawled out of bed, showered and dressed, I was ready and raring to go. I couldn’t wait to show Josh my city. I loved it here—and even if I hadn’t grown up in New York, I was pretty sure I would have made it to the city eventually. It suited me. I could get lost in it if I wanted, or I could make myself known. It was a place that matched every mood. That changed along with its people.
There were so many different versions of New York, so many different lenses to view it through. My parents, who viewed everything as a way to rise in society, saw it as the place they needed to be. I never got the sense that they loved anything in particular about it, so when I had been first introduced to the city, it was through the lens of necessity. Going to fancy parties or events to be seen. Everything was elite and exclusive. I had seen the inside of a lot of hotel ballrooms and eaten in the VIP rooms of some of the best New York restaurants. Or best, as described by Zagats or The New York Times. If it had been written up, my parents took us there.