Chapter 30
thirty
MAGS
Mags was aware that she was yet again breaking the rules that she herself had set, but she dared any woman to stand so close to the white-headed Adonis and not cave.
The O’Faolain men had some damn fine genes, she thought as her ass found a seat on his jean-clad thighs. Jonathan touched her lips gently in a sweet kiss, telling her, “You’re the loveliest woman, Margaret Colleen Morrow.”
Mags kissed him back, a longer exploration. “And you’re the loveliest man, Jonathan Sean O’Faolain.”
He took her mouth again, and Mags couldn’t help the moan she shared around his tongue. Breaking contact again, she said, “Feel free to lose the shirt. We haven’t gotten to the slow-down portion of the evening yet.”
“Only if you want to lose yours,” Jonathan’s sexy smile teased.
Mags fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. “I’ve been told my breasts are perfection. Are you sure you can handle seeing them in all their naked glory?”
In answer, he pulled his shirt over his head, and Mags froze mid-flirt. Yes, she had seen Jonathan without his shirt on over the years, whether it was group swimming or watching the boys play sports, but not like this.
Never this close, touchably close, which she took immediate advantage of. She ran her fingers across his smooth, pale, broad shoulders. If her hands shook, she chose to ignore them, refusing to be embarrassed about what a pleasure it was to touch him.
Finally.
“Your body is beautiful, Jon,” she said softly, her tone almost reverent as her hands continued to wander.
His chest was strong and well-defined beneath her touch, and he couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath when her fingers traced lightly over his skin, sending a shiver through him.
“Mags, you’re killing me.”
“Don’t die. We aren’t slowing down yet,” she reminded again, knowing very well that she was playing with fire.
The moment her hands glided over his abs, his muscles tensed and rippled. His waistband was really in the way. She tapped her short nail on the head of the metal button.
Mags was so fixated on learning his body that when Jonathan said, “Take your shirt off,” she startled.
It wasn’t that she was a shy or reserved woman. She had made herself orgasm not very many days ago from the same position she was in now. Deciding that living dangerously was a whole hell of a lot more satisfying, she lifted the hem and peeled the shirt from her body, tossing it to the floor.
Her long, brown waves landed against her chest, allowing only the barest hint of her nipples to peak through.
“Christ,” he uttered as he reverently swept her hair behind her. He stood with one hand supporting her ass before turning and placing her in the middle of the bed, crawling up her body until it was him straddling her thighs.
Then it was his turn to explore her body. With a single finger, he traced the outline of her breasts, her tiny, dark areolas and nipples puckered, begging for attention.
He smoothed his thumbs over the peaks. “I can’t believe I’m touching you this way.” He bent and let his warm breath wash over the tip. “Can I taste these, or is that too fast?” he growled.
“Not too fast,” Mags heard the unsaid, “Please do,” as she arched her back.
He had both hands cupped at her breasts, and when his mouth closed over one tip, sucking her flesh deep into his mouth, she gasped at the sensation. He was ravenous as his tongue licked and laved both breasts until she was writhing and begging for more when it should have been for less.
“Jonathan,” she panted, running her hands more frantically over his bared skin, stopping when her explorations found the button of his jeans once more.
His ministrations paused when he felt her trace his zipper and everything that it constricted under the metal teeth. “Would it be too fast if you took your pants off? For comfort,” she added.
He nipped the side of her right breast before climbing to his feet and shedding the denim. She tried not to gape at the barely constrained monster tethered only by a pair of Tom Ford briefs.
When he came back to bed, he didn’t immediately resume his position at her breasts. Instead, he kneeled at her feet, his hands caressing her calves, his eyes caressing the rest of her.
“My God, you’re beautiful, lying naked underneath me. Almost naked,” he said, touching her shorts. “Can I take these off?”
“That’s not very slow of you.” She tried for wit, but the breathless quality of her voice was disturbingly blatant.
Mags mentally shrugged. Slow had never been her thing.
“Fine, but tit for tat,” she watched his eyes widen as she snapped the waistband of his briefs.
Jonathan ran one finger between her breasts and stopped, keeping only the slightest pressure at the base of her sternum.
“Are we done going slow?” he asked, a shag of white hair partially covering the left eye on his handsome face.
“I believe you regret hurting me, and if our families have taught me anything, second chances are necessary.” She shrugged, adding, “Bigger the risk, bigger the reward.”
“That’s my girl.” Thumbs already hooked in his underwear, he asked, “Together?”
Mags took a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand and stretch against her skin. She hooked her fingers, too, but her eyes never left his.
It wasn’t just about sex. They were starting something that would either work and soar or crash and burn. Both had consequences; either would change them. Jonathan would change her. He already had.
“Together,” she nodded. And then they were slipping out of the last barrier that separated their bodies.
Mags was by no means a virgin—she’d only had one lover, but that one was a repeat offender—she’d seen penises, personally and on television, but Jonathan was…blessed.
While she was busy ogling the unwrapped present, he was intent upon studying her in return. “No woman is so beautiful as you, Mags.”
She stretched under his perusal, lifting her hips until the inside of her thighs slid up his muscular legs, barely stopping before her center touched his balls.
He brought his hands under her to grasp her ass and close the gap. When her heat met his, they moaned in tandem.
“Surely, no woman is more perfectly made.”
He kissed her deeply then, while sending her body spiraling from sensation. Bent over her like he was, he was able to pump his sex through her wet folds.
It was too much and not enough, but through the intoxication of near orgasm, doubts about their sustainability roared to life.
Would she regret this? Regret him?
Would he pull away from her like he had all those years ago?
She wasn’t brave enough to tell him what her true feelings were, too much of a coward to chance him not returning them.
She knew he cared for her. They were friends. That was undeniable, but…
Jonathan’s thrusts stalled. “Mags? Where did you go?”
She would like to lie because she hated sounding insecure, but she wouldn’t. “I,” she halted before trying again. “I was wondering how long it would take before you got bored and moved on to another woman like you’ve always done in the past.”
He reared back, looking angry and hurt, pinning her hands above her head. “Listen to me, Margaret Morrow. I won’t grow bored,” he practically growled. “I won’t move on. I never had you in my arms.”
She was quick to remind, “You did. Once.”
“And I fucked that up, yes. I handled my feelings and yours in the worst way. You were only seventeen—”
“Almost eighteen at the time,” she interrupted.
“Almost eighteen,” he conceded, “and my dad would have ripped me a new one had I touched you like I’d really wanted to.”
She could only nod, acknowledging the point. Still…
“Mags,” he said in a stern voice, tugging her hands higher until her chest arched, causing her breasts to press against his chest, “I need this chance. I’m not talking about sex, though I’m dying for it.
I mean that I need you to believe in me again.
We can stop the physical tonight, just don’t stop our new start. ”
Whatever tension had been building drained from her neck and shoulders. Jonathan might have proved his ability to be a prick in the past, but he wasn’t a liar. She needed to remember that.
“I want the new start too. I also want the physical. Continue your perusal of my awesome body,” she grinned, hooking her heels over his ass.