“Maybe a little,” she said.
He had to step away. Hunter closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn’t look at the soft curls falling from her bun, or her intent blue eyes. Maybe if he didn’t steal another glance down her sweatshirt, he could escape. His honor demanded it. He could not have the kind of hold-nothing-back wild ride they both craved until he deserved her trust.
Mentally preparing to make his move, he tightened his grip on her waist, willing his arms to set her aside. But as his fingers pressed into her clothes, her hands fell away from his shoulders and she stepped back.
His eyes flew open.
“I want you.” She stepped out of her shoes and kicked them aside. “Now.”
Those four little words nearly undid his resolve. She pulled h
er sweatshirt up over her head. Her pebbled nipples strained at the thin white tank top.
“I want you,” she repeated. “Fast and hard.”
Her tank top followed her sweatshirt to the ground and he was a goner. Little Miss Maggie had won. Knowing he’d probably hate himself in the morning, he reached out and touched her breast.
* * *
MAGGIE MOANED, LEANING into his touch. She’d won. He’d given in to the powerful attraction between them. It probably helped that she’d removed her shirt.
Hunter’s fingers traced small circles around her nipples, sending ripples of bliss through her body. She’d go crazy if she didn’t kiss him soon. Maggie drew his mouth down to hers, but his free hand captured her arm, gently returning it to her side.
“No,” he said. “Let me take control. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she gasped. She heard the hard edge in his voice, but ignored it. This—his fingers teasing her breast—felt too heavenly to think about anything else but the sensations on her skin and the ache building between her thighs. “Oh, God, yes.”
She heard him grunt as he pushed her jeans over her hips one-handed. His other hand teased her to the point where she wondered if she might have an orgasm before he removed her underwear.
“Close your eyes,” he demanded.
She obeyed.
His hand gave one final push and her old, worn jeans slid down her legs to her ankles, exposing her plain beige and very damp bikini briefs. Damp? Make that soaked. Knowing he was looking at her while she stood nearly naked in front of him with her eyes closed turned her on more than she could have imagined.
“Spread your legs.”
Her brow furrowed. With her jeans around her ankles, she could barely move. “How?”
“As far as you can.”
Maggie stepped as wide as her jeans would allow. As if rewarding her for following his orders, he ran his hand down her belly, gliding his fingers under the elastic band of her underwear, and she understood. He’d positioned her just wide enough to explore and touch her, but if she tried to move away, she’d become tangled in her jeans and fall. She was trapped, his to do with as he pleased.
She gasped. The thought of being completely under his control sent spasms rushing through her body. She’d never been this turned on. Ever. Yet she wasn’t afraid. She trusted him to give her what she needed, to fulfill her fantasy.
His fingers ran back and forth over her most sensitive part, not teasing, but driving her toward completion. She was close. So close. On the verge of an Orgasm—capital O. His breath teased her neck and the muscles between her legs clenched. Keeping one hand between her legs and the other on her breast, he gently suckled the side of her neck.
It was too much. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Pleasure radiated from her core until her knees went weak. She leaned into him for support as if she were a rag doll. Her head rested on his shoulder as the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced ebbed and flowed, refusing to fade away altogether.
When she finally returned to herself—granted, a much happier, sated version—and caught her breath, Maggie reached between them. She ran her hand over his T-shirt until she found the top of his jeans. She tugged at the button until it released, then moved to his zipper. Her fingers brushed his erection through his boxers and she heard him groan. Even through his shorts, he felt hot, hard and ready. She didn’t care if he kept his clothes on and pinned her to the wall. She just wanted him inside her.
“One down. Are you ready for another?” she asked, echoing his words from last Saturday night.
He gently released her breast and took hold of her wrist. Carefully, he set her hand away from him. She opened her eyes, lifted her head and looked at him. Did he plan to take charge? No, his tight-lipped expression was far too serious for a man about to have wild sex in a hallway.
“No, Maggie,” he said. “We shouldn’t. Not like this.”
“Why not?” Emboldened by the intoxicating mix of alcohol and orgasm, she slipped her hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers until her fingers brushed against the tip of his erection.