In Service of Love

by Laurel Greer

  “Stop worrying,” he murmured. His finger pressed against her jaw, directing her gaze back to his. “I’m not going to ask anything of you that you don’t want to give.”

  “We can just enjoy tonight?” She stroked his abs, sliding her hands down past his waist and hooking her thumbs under the hem of his T-shirt. The fabric came off too darn easily. Or maybe that was Asher lifting his arms to help, and then tossing the garment in an unceremonious pile over by the rag rug in front of her dresser. His wide chest, exposed and delicious looking right at eye level, teased her senses. She smiled at him and pressed an openmouthed kiss to one of his pecs.

  He mumbled his approval before clearing his throat. “Yeah, we can. We will.”

  Spreading his hands wide on her hips, he backed her against the bed and lifted her onto the high mattress, stepping between her legs. One big hand cupped her bottom, pulling her snug to his front.

  Even through clothes, the contact seared. She whimpered and tilted her hips, trying to get closer. “It’s too much and not enough all at the same time.”

  A breath shuddered from his lips and he bent his head to kiss her neck. “I know.”

  She let her cardigan fall from her shoulders, tilting her head to give him better access to the sensitive skin under her ear. Needing something to do with her hands, she unbuckled his belt and fumbled to unbutton his jeans. But her fingers refused to work properly. She shivered as his facial hair teased her flesh. “Your beard gets an A-plus.”

  His lips curved against her skin in what felt like amusement. “You’re the first to give it a grade.”

  “I can’t be the first to appreciate it, though.”

  He lifted his head. A visible, naked vulnerability tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I grew it after Alex died. He wasn’t much for the mountain man look.”

  “Oh. I’m...” Sorry wasn’t the right word. She never wanted him to hold back from talking about Alex. But she hadn’t meant her offhand comment to bring up something painful right as he was enjoying himself. “I didn’t mean—that is, we don’t have to—unless you want to.”

  “We don’t have to what?”

  “Talk about your past,” she said.

  “But it’s all tied together, my history and my present,” he said, kissing her softly with his hands cradling the sides of her face, fingers just dipping into her hair. Which had to be a mess by now, what with him touching it. Hopefully he liked untamed curls. She had more than her fair share.

  She glided her palms down his back, testing the ridges of muscles. Sweet glory, he knew what to do with his mouth. She linked her ankles around his hips and held on for the ride.

  After a minute, he drew away and smiled sheepishly. “I want this to be spectacular, but I’m a little out of practice. With anyone for more than a couple of years, because sex wasn’t on the table once Alex got sicker. And yeah, pleasure is pleasure and intent matters more than gender, but my last girlfriend was in high school. Which—just tell me what you like, okay?”

  “I will.” Nerves danced in her belly. “As long as you do the same. I want to be enough for you.”

  “Of course. And you already are.” Fingertips glided along her jaw, leaving a trail of sensation she’d much rather be experiencing between her thighs.

  “I—I’m wearing too many clothes,” she said.

  He lifted a brow. “Back up, Maggie.”

  She froze. “Uh, you want to slow down? Or go back to talking about—”

  “No, I want you to physically back up. I’d toss you onto the mattress myself, but I’m not much for manhandling my partners. Casual is one thing, careless is another.”

  She scooted against the pillows and studied him, the hot glint in his eye, the nervous tilt to his mouth. She’d take him at his word that he wanted this, and his agreement that it wouldn’t be serious gave her the freedom not to worry about getting attached. But she still needed to be mindful that his first time being intimate with someone after a life-shattering loss was something to cherish. “I think there’s room for careful in casual.”

  He smiled, slow and satisfied. The mattress creaked as he climbed onto the bed and stretched out his long, muscular frame.

  “How does vanilla work for you? For now, anyway?” he asked, palming her belly over her shirt.

  She rolled into him, hooking a leg over his hips, desperate for more of the exquisite friction that had held so many promises. “Yeah, I can go for that.” So long as it involved cozying up on top of her feather bed and pressing her body into his.

  His heartbeat thudded against her breasts. Or maybe that was hers?

  No, it was both. Almost in rhythm with each other.

  The near synchronization jarred her, making her breath catch.

  “You okay?” His thumb toyed with her lower lip.

  “Yeah, sure.” Except she needed to speed this up something fierce. To break away from the soft and emotional, get back to that casual intent they’d set when they were out in the living room and didn’t have their hearts echoing each other... Grabbing the hem of her tank top, she stripped it off and pitched it onto the floor. Her pants were next. Then she reached around to remove her bra.

  Asher caught her hand before she could reach back and unclasp the garment. “Hey. Let me do that. In a second, though.” Slightly slower than she had, he shucked his jeans and socks. Dark hair dusted his legs, and she stroked one of his calves with the sole of her foot.

  He traced the top of her bra with a fingertip. A quick circle, and his palm caressed her breast. And his mouth was on her nipple, laving it through the fabric. Need speared her core.

  She arched into him. “Ohhh...”

  “You like that?”

  “Love it.”

  “Excellent.” He kissed his way across to the other side, and she gripped his thick hair, moaning as he pleasured her other breast. “I’ve been aching to do this.” His breath was hot against the wet fabric. “This, too...” His hand played a sweet, torturous trail down her stomach.

  “Mmm, I like where you’re going,” she murmured, tugging on his hair until he brought his lips to hers again. But as his fingers found purchase, slipping inside her panties, she forgot how to kiss. Moaning, though... That happened. Loudly. As did pressing into his hand, a silent plea for more.

  If she was going to get out of this without getting dangerously close to attachment, she needed to take charge.

  She nudged him onto his back and climbed on top. Oh, yeah. This was so much better without two pairs of jeans muting the heat, the sensation. Nothing emotional. Pure arousal.

  Slipping off his glasses, she laid them on the nightstand. His pupils were wide, his chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm. She braced her hands on his pecs and rocked her hips.

  His eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted. A low murmur of pleasure rumbled from his chest. Gentle fingers slid her bra straps over her shoulders and he pushed the cups down, coaxing the fabric away from her tender flesh with both hands. Only when he had her squirming from the caresses of his palms did he unfasten her bra, freeing her arms. His thumbs brushed her nipples and she fell against him, mouthing his neck and digging her fingers into his hair.

  “One down, one to go,” he said teasingly, hooking the edge of her panties and sliding them down an inch. He pushed them to the side and teased her center.

  “Mmm, they need to go completely.” How the words got out coherently when his fingers were strumming some sort of magic, she didn’t know. Limbs heavy and body aching to have all of him, she somehow managed to lift up enough to get the offending cotton off.

  “Take mine off, too.” A playful smile softened the command.

  Dishing him some serious bedroom eyes, she eased the material down. His length sprang against his belly and she licked the tip.

  His head fell back on the pillow and he swore.

 
She explored him with her tongue and lips, circling his base with her fingers as she savored the tastes of salt and man.

  “Maggie,” he choked out, “I love that, but I can’t... Not right now...”

  “Too much?”

  “Too good.”

  With one last, light press of her mouth to his hot skin, she withdrew and reached into the drawer of her nightstand to get a condom. “I have an IUD,” she said, “but we should use this, too.”

  “Of course.”

  The second she had him sheathed, his gaze darkened. He flipped her onto her back. Covering her, devouring her mouth.

  Overwhelming her with his hands and his chest hair scraping against her nipples and muttering some sort of sweet nonsense, the praise and adoration of a lover...

  She gripped his hips, a silent suggestion he get on with things. But he was still kissing her with maddening slowness. Wonderful, yes, but the peak was so close, and she wanted to get there, to fall over the cliff. Just for a moment.

  Taking him in hand, she guided him toward her. “Asher, please.”

  His mouth curved. Oh, he knew what she was begging for. It was obvious he was anticipating it, too. But he was way too content to torture her in the process.

  He slid inside her, just an inch or two. Hot and deliciously teasing. She tried to thrust, but he held his hand to her hip to stop her from taking him in further.

  “Please, this?” he asked, voice rough and hitching with desire.

  “Uh, yeah.” She pressed her hips into his grip, needing all of him, needing the fullness. The ache in her core was unbearable. Clutching his broad shoulders, she squeezed her inner muscles.

  Groaning, he thrust to the hilt, pausing. His eyes closed and his face slackened with pleasure. “Maggie. Honey, you’re... This...” He cursed, low reverence in such a crude word. “Perfection.”

  “You, too.”

  His deliberate, unhurried pace obliterated her senses and she lost herself in the movement, in his touch. In savoring the bliss on his beautiful face, the near gratitude.

  He kissed her tenderly, tongue matching the rhythm of his strokes. And she kissed him back, trying desperately to feel everything outside without feeling anything inside. Without giving in to the temptation to surrender. How he managed to both soothe and arouse with every rocking, forward drive, she had no idea.

  “I need more,” she said.

  “How?”

  “Faster.”

  “No, love. That’s the easy way out. Just let go. Ride it out with me.”

  “But—”

  He snapped his hips harder, cutting off her protest with a wave of pleasure. She was so close, but he clearly needed the sensual pace. And as much as speeding up seemed smarter, safer, how could she resist this? How could she not reach for every scrap of intimacy he was offering? The anxious knot in her chest dissolved and warmth rushed in, building to a breaking point—

  One last thrust, and she shattered. A sob escaped her lips and she clung to him, tumbling through the wash of release.

  And he followed her, his face buried against her neck, muffling his nonsensical shout.

  She splayed her hands on his back. Sweat dampened his skin. Or maybe that was hers, her palms. Heck, her arms and chest and legs.

  Lifting his head, he brushed his lips under her ear. “See? Worth going slow.”

  It was. A sated joy weighted her limbs, and she couldn’t hold back a smile. But it was about more than peaking together. It was the safety of his embrace. His solidity, his openness...

  All things she could get used to.

  Could love.

  But she couldn’t let herself feel that way.

  “Give me a sec,” he murmured before withdrawing gently and heading to her en suite bathroom.

  Her body chilled. The vulnerability of being alone and naked swept over her, almost as powerful as the orgasm she’d had. She scrambled under the covers. Maybe the layer of feathers and cotton would be enough of a barrier, enough protection.

  He strolled back into the room, still naked and as gorgeous as any man she’d ever seen like this. An almost sheepish smile tilted his lips. He motioned to the duvet. “May I?”

  She nodded and pulled them back, inviting him into her bed. And, let’s face it, into whatever comes next.

  Because what they’d just shared—that hadn’t felt like an end.

  This had “beginning” written all over it.

  * * *

  A few hours later Asher woke with Maggie somehow lying sprawled across his chest as well as half the bed. Good thing she had a king mattress.

  He smiled to himself. This was comfortable: both the mattress, and the woman he was sharing it with. A warm, irresistible cocoon. Given he wasn’t due to pick Ruth up from her sleepover until mid-morning, he was tempted to go shut the lights off—they’d managed to pass out with them on—and stay. Damn, Maggie would look good sleepy and languid, lit up by early sunshine.

  She probably wouldn’t want that, though. He suspected she hadn’t anticipated “sleeping together” would literally mean sleeping together. He gave her back a quick stroke, inhaling the berry-sweet scent of her curls, which tumbled over her face and tickled his neck. The alarm clock on her bedside table shone 2:14 in bold, digital blue. He really wanted to stay burrowed under the covers, to better learn the weight of her limbs. But waking up to doubt and awkwardness? Not worth the risk. Better to disappoint her by leaving than by sticking around.

  “Maggie?” He shifted out from under her, kissing her forehead as he settled her on one of the pillows and pulled the covers up to her chin. “I should scoot.”

  “Mmkay,” she murmured. One of her brown eyes opened a crack. “You, uh... You could...” She woke up all the way, eyes widening. “Right. Leaving. Not staying. Good call.”

  He kissed her again before dragging his butt out of bed and putting his clothes back on. She sat up, holding the covers over her naked torso. Her teeth pulled at one side of her lower lip. Concern marked her brows.

  “Everything all right?” He put his socks on, studying her.

  “Yeah.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “Do you want to go out for coffee this week? Or lunch?”

  He could hear that the invitation came through gritted teeth, but he got the sense it was her forcing herself to push past her own limitations, not extending it out of a sense of obligation. He mentally scanned his schedule. He was running some of his cultural programming in the afternoons, but that was during his usual hours. Parenting, however, was a total buzzkill when it came to free time. “I have my lunch hours. Other than that, I’m in dad mode every day. Ruth is going to have to put up with doing her homework at the training facility for a few nights so I can get the cabinets done.”

  And as much as he liked seeing Ruth hero-worship Maggie, he didn’t want to introduce Maggie as more than a friend right now. Not until he got a better handle on where this was going and what Maggie wanted. But how to bring that up? There wasn’t really a way. Not without freaking Maggie out with words like “commitment” and “step-parent”.

  Maggie seemed as lost in thought as he was, staring at a point off to his right. After a few seconds, she fixed him with a determined gaze. “I’ll come by on Monday at lunch, then.”

  Excellent. Sure, he’d spend all of tomorrow and Monday morning wondering about her endgame. But future plans were better than her throwing up more walls any day.

  Chapter Nine

  Maggie had booked herself off for Monday eons ago, needing to go to the dentist and for a physical. The day she’d made the appointments, she’d never have believed she’d spend the morning anxious for her few hours to herself to end so she could see Asher.

  Now, all she wanted was for time to pass so she could enjoy his smile and hopefully a kiss or two. Especially since he’d called her just after his shift and s
tarted to tell her that library policies would allow her to bring Jackson in as a literacy support animal. Asher had suggested she put Jackson’s training vest on him and bring him by when she came for lunch. He’d told her where to find his spare key, and she now had the dog in tow, having picked him up after her dental cleaning.

  Teeth sparkling, health confirmed and toenails painted an appropriate-for-autumn bronze (sue her for squeezing in a pedicure, too, now that there was a chance another human might be looking at her toes) she walked down Main Street toward the library, talking to Emma on her cell.

  “You’re not getting away with keeping the details from me, Maggie. You spent the night with him,” her bestie exclaimed.

  Maggie paused. It didn’t seem right to spill. The hours of bliss, and the feelings of contentment that followed, were still hard to believe. She needed to keep them close to her heart, give herself time to dwell in them a little more. Not to mention Asher seemed cautious about being a topic of conversation, and she understood why he’d have a heightened awareness.

  “What happened after you brought him home?” Emma’s glee rang in Maggie’s ear.

  “He left.”

  Despite the air temperature diving closer to freezing, Maggie wore flip-flops to preserve her polish job. Their rhythm on the wooden sidewalk sped up in time with her hurrying footsteps. Her pattering heart demanded speed. But walking faster, though calming for her nerves, wasn’t going to get rid of Emma’s curiosity.

  “Yeah, I think you left something out, lady,” her friend said.

  “We watched a movie.” That we didn’t finish.

  “And did the nasty.” Emma’s tone teased.

  “It wasn’t nasty.” Maggie’s chest went all soft and yearning, much like it had yesterday every time she’d felt a wisp of a memory of Asher’s hands on her body, his lips caressing and loving.

  Emma let out a victorious crow. “Knew it! Guaranteed that man knows what to do between the sheets.”

  “I’m having lunch with him today, so...”

  Silence fell on the other end of the line.