After some period of time （time had lost meaning by that point）， she tugged away to take in a shaky breath, absently realizing that they’d gone from vertically sitting side by side to lying down on the hotel bed and taking turns rolling over each other, hands groping, kissing whatever they could reach. It wasn’t quite frantic, but it was close.
It was amazing.
She felt her body vibrating like a crystal wineglass that had been rubbed just the right way, all but keening with the sensations zipping through her. “Oh my God,” she said as he pressed hot kisses against her throat and held her waist. “I could fucking devour you. Are you okay with this?”
His laugh was wrecked and light and tinged with shock, the good kind. She hoped, anyway. “I am so turned on, I would let you,” he responded. “You snuck up on me, then you fucking blindsided me.”
“F-bomb, huh?” She nipped at his earlobe, gratified by his deep growl. “I’m rubbing off on you.”
“If only.”
She froze, realizing she was on top of him . . . and kind of straddling him. She could feel his hard length pressed against her, and she shivered, pressing back and spreading her legs just a tiny bit more.
He slotted right into place, and they both groaned.
“Sex would probably be a bad idea, huh?” she said, half joking . . . half really, truly not.
He sounded breathless. “Whatever’s clever,” he murmured. “It’s your call.”
She hesitated, then clumsily dismounted, trying to get her bearings. This was madness, wasn’t it? It was . . . too soon. Sure, they’d been friends for months, and technically they’d had “friends dates” of sorts, having meals, watching movies. But shouldn’t they have a date-date, if they were going to have sex?
Actually, did they need to?
“Just putting it out there,” he said, and those gray eyes of his glowed with warmth and sincerity. “I’m serious. I want to see what we could be together, as a couple, romantically. I care about you.”
She swallowed hard.
She was excited. She was nervous.
She might be making a horrible mistake.
But she trusted him. She cared about him too.
“All right,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “Let’s maybe . . . get comfortable. And see what happens?”
CHAPTER 33
LOVE EPIPHANY
He couldn’t help it. He chuckled at her determined expression. “Relax. You’re making it sound like we’re storming Omaha Beach.”
She rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose at him, even as she was grinning, and amazingly enough, he went even harder. Because it was so Maggie. Aiden hadn’t been this turned on in longer than he could remember.
That wasn’t to say that he hadn’t been turned on in the past ten years. He’d jerked off plenty of times, of course. Being demi didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in coming, apparently. When he was stressed, a fantasy and a Fleshlight tended to help him shut down his brain. But he hadn’t actually had sex with another person in a decade . . . and let’s face it, he was a different person at fifty than he had been at twenty, or thirty. Or even forty.
Thankfully, the adrenaline rush of finally getting the obstacles out of the way, of admitting he genuinely cared about and wanted Maggie, as well as the glorious sight of witnessing her defend him like some kind of gleaming Arthurian knight, was doing a lot to push him past any sort of performance anxiety he might have otherwise felt.
“C’mere,” he said, pulling her against him and kissing her soundly. They’d get clothes off in a minute. He’d forgotten how awesome kissing could be, honestly. It wasn’t the sort of thing you did by yourself, and in weird ways, it could be more intimate than sex. It was so easy to overlook that until you’d gone without.
But soon enough, he could feel his body tightening, growing impatient. His hands were roaming over her back, pulling her taut against him. Then, with a growl of impatience, she nudged him down onto the bed and straddled him again, picking up where she had left off.
This was a great escalation. He laughed against her lips, feeling incredible. He wove his fingers into her hair, ruining whatever hairstyle she had and genuinely not caring. She half purred, half growled in return, moving her hips and cradling his increasing hardness. His heart was beating a mile a fucking minute, and he felt like his nerve endings were on fire, and he just wanted to devour her. He tore his mouth away from hers, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses on her jawline, her throat, nipping at her ear and luxuriating in her sharp, sexy gasp as she rolled herself against him, involuntarily and uncontrollably.
“Aiden,” she murmured, shivering.
He rolled her under him, and she squeaked, then grinned at him, looking at him through her lashes. “What are you going to do to me?” she said, nudging his erection, her skirt hiking up over her hips, her legs wrapping around his, drawing him closer.
“What do you want me to do to you?” he teased back. “Because I could kiss you for days.”
“Just kiss?” she asked breathlessly.
He nudged back, his body notching to hers. “Or more,” he teased, even though on some level, he was completely serious. “I’d be happy to do whatever you want. Whatever you want,” he repeated, staring at her with emphasis.
He saw the heat of a blush creep over her face, and she bit the corner of her lip, and it was so fucking sexy he couldn’t stand it. “Maybe lose some clothes?” she suggested. “Hot as you looked in your suit, I wouldn’t mind seeing you out of it. And it would be more comfortable.”
“True.” He quickly rolled off her, his hands clumsy on his buttons. He growled at them, like each piece of plastic was personally trying to cockblock him, and Maggie let out a peal of laughter.
“Oh my God, let me do that before you pop them off.” She stood in front of him, her hands moving nimbly as she undid the front, then pushed his shirt off his shoulders. Her heated gaze took in his torso, her hand smoothing over his arms as she pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside.
He reached for her. “Need some help with your dress?”
“It is a bitch to zip,” she admitted, turning her back on him. He tugged the offending zipper down, revealing her light-olive skin, flawless and smooth. He teased its surface with his fingertips as he opened the dress and slid it down her arms, then pulled her closer, nuzzling his nose against her spine. She let out a low moan. He tugged her onto the bed between his legs as she dropped the dress, letting it pool on the floor. She was in a black bra and panties and a garter with thigh-high stockings, and he kinda wanted to come just looking at it.
He might not feel attraction often, but when he did . . . well, in his case, he really fucking did.
He pressed hot kisses between her shoulder blades, against the side of her neck, until she was writhing against him. She spun around, and he scooted farther backward on the bed as she advanced on him like a lioness stalking prey. She smoothed her hands up his thighs; then her fingertips rested on his fly. She raised her eyebrows, questioning.
He nodded wordlessly, then stretched out. She unzipped his pants and stripped him out of them, tossing them the way of his shirt. There he was, tenting his boxer briefs, while she looked on.