Devoted to Love Page 4

Creeping past her grandparents’ bedroom, Maggie led Josiah up the stairs and veered right to Shealyn’s childhood bedroom. It was bigger, more secluded, and blessedly empty tonight.

  Once inside, she shut them away from the rest of the world, then turned on the bedside light. It gave off a subtle glow, illuminating the hushed room with a golden hue.

  Josiah didn’t give the place a second glance. He seemed to have eyes only for her. “You sure about this? It’s been an eventful evening.”

  “Beyond, but yes. Unless you’re not interested anymore?”

  Maggie winced. She hated when her insecurity showed. Everyone in this town thought she was so self-assured and didn’t have a care. She’d been Miss Kendall County three times. She’d been salutatorian of her class. She’d landed the lead in the school play as a senior. She’d been head cheerleader. Sure, high school had been fun and she hadn’t minded being popular. She’d even recently landed a wealthy fiancé from somewhere way more cultured than here and could have married him. She might have lived a charmed lie of a life—like her whole life had seemed—at least from the outside looking in.

  None of those people really knew anything about her.

  She’d grown up without a mother because hers loved drugs more than her daughters. All that popularity had faded after graduation. Her fiancé? Gone. She’d ended the engagement without really knowing what she truly wanted or where she was even going. In fact, when Maggie boiled her existence down, what she really had were her grandparents, a sister too famous to bother with her problems, her budding career as an author, a stilted relationship with her mother . . . and a whole lot of confusion.

  “Baby, I took one look at you and was determined to have you whenever and however I could. Come here.”

  The way he spoke to her, as if nothing and no one else mattered, made Maggie’s insides flutter.

  She wasn’t seventeen anymore. She didn’t have stars in her eyes. And she really wasn’t looking for romance. But this man did something to her she had never experienced.

  For some reason, she sensed this moment between them was right.

  Without hesitation, she stepped into his arms and curled her hands around his neck. “It feels as if I’ve waited hours for you to kiss me.”

  “You have because I’ve waited those same hours, too.” He caressed her face. “But before we do this, I need to know what you’re looking for and whether you’ll be okay if this doesn’t last beyond tonight.”

  She buried her face in his neck, losing herself in the hot musk of his skin. The bronzed column was taut, delineated by muscles and veins. Everything about him was strong. Steady. He seemed like one of the good guys. She appreciated his calm and the way he tried to do the right thing, but under that he was wonderfully witty and sarcastic. She definitely liked his sense of play.

  Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t be like any man who had shared her sheets.

  “I’m not looking for long-term,” she assured. “My grandmother wanted me to marry Davis, and I tried to love him for her . . . but I just couldn’t. One engagement was enough to last me quite a while, so if all we do tonight is make one another feel good, I’m fine with that. What about you?”

  She hadn’t even kissed him and she already suspected she wouldn’t soon forget him. Still, the likelihood of Josiah being her Mr. Right—if such a thing even existed—was almost nil. Better to take what she could and move on.

  “Yeah, I did the engagement thing once. Didn’t work out. Never again. Just sex is fine with me.”

  Maggie wanted to ask about his ex-fiancée, but his voice and body language said that was a closed subject.

  “Cool,” she said instead, trying to sound casual.

  “Cool,” he echoed. “Now give me your mouth so I can start doing unspeakably dirty things to it, designed to give you all the pleasure you can handle.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” She raised her face to his, her heart pounding, her belly tightening.

  Josiah slipped a hand around her nape and bent to her. It seemed to take forever for him to come close. But as he drew nearer, she deciphered his masculine scent. Fresh-chopped wood, earthy moss, all man. He was a heady aphrodisiac as she breathed him, then let out a little moan.

  He was there, luring her deeper under his spell, his hands callused yet soft as his fingers tightened around her neck. He exhaled against her lips. The citrus and spice of their drinks lingered on his breath. Even his size made her feel petite and protected. Sure, he could hurt her. He’d probably learned a hundred ways how. But Maggie didn’t believe for one second he ever would.

  Arching closer, she tried to rush their kiss. She needed to feel him. Josiah hadn’t really touched her yet, and already she ached. What would it feel like when he was inside her, possessing her, thrusting into her with all his strength and determination?

  At the thought, a whimper escaped her throat. Their lips nearly touched. So close . . . His free hand at the small of her back pressed her body against his. The hard insistence of his erection dug into her flesh. Holy hell, he was massive and obviously ready to make her feel good. She was beyond eager. Why was he dragging out this kiss?

  “Hurry.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured as his lips brushed her cheek and glided toward her ear. “You’re trembling.”

  She was. Maggie could hear it in her inhalations, feel it in the grip of her hands tightening on his shoulders as she tried to drag him closer. “You’re tormenting me.”

  He chuckled in her ear, the sound a low rumble that did crazy things to her insides. “Yes, I am. I like that it’s working.”

  As he nuzzled his stubbled cheek across her skin and dragged his lips down her jaw, she tensed, drew in an impatient breath, and found her thigh creeping up his hip. She invited him deeper. He caught her leg in his grip and pressed her closer, nudging her exactly where she needed his steely length.

  “Kiss me already,” she demanded.

  “I’m getting there.”

  But he still wasn’t in any hurry. His lips bypassed hers again, hovering just above her mouth, leaving her tingling and sensitive.

  She tried to crush their lips together and get relief. But once again he was stronger and faster. Next thing Maggie knew, his lips were at her temple, skimming down her hairline. He inhaled her. The hand at her nape shifted up to graze her scalp. Then he grabbed her hair, closed his fist around the strands, and tugged. She shivered in need.

  With a satisfied smile, he nipped her lobe, his teeth just sharp enough to snag her attention. Without a word, he forced her to acknowledge his growing mastery.

  Never in her admittedly colorful love life had she ached for a man this badly. The fact that he hadn’t even kissed her, that they were still fully clothed, and yet she was powerless against his seduction wasn’t lost on Maggie. This man was going to utterly undo her. He would probably ruin her for months, maybe years. That should worry her. She should care. But right now, she didn’t. She simply yearned to dive into the pleasure and drown. The consequences would come later.

  “Josiah . . .”

  “What is it, baby?”

  His whisper was pure sex. Her nipples hardening, her fingernails digging into his skin, a keening cry falling from her lips. “Please . . .”

  “That’s the magic word. Oh, I’m going to love hearing you beg.”

  Maggie didn’t have time to respond before he lifted her off her feet and carried her the last five steps to the bed. He followed her down, covering her body. As her back hit the mattress, he fitted his hips between her legs and dipped his head to her, finally slanting his lips over hers, capturing her in an instant.

  She absorbed him with a gasp. He was everywhere, his hold unbreakable, his kiss unfightable. Not that she had any will to end it. Heavens no. All she could do was wrap her arms around him tighter, wriggle in silent plea for more, and kiss him with every fiber
of her being.

  The joining of their mouths seemed endless, timeless. Perfect. But she wanted him naked. She wanted to explore the strength he now used to hold her down. She wanted to map him with her fingertips and lips. She ached to know every inch of this man.

  With a cry, Maggie tugged at his coat. He wrestled out of it without breaking their kiss. His shirt proved more difficult. First, because the row of his buttons lay between them. Second, because he seemed far more interested in divesting her of her panties. Still, he managed to seduce her mouth with a kiss that stole her sanity while working his hand up her thigh. Before she knew it, he’d lifted the skirt of her bridesmaid dress and fastened his fingers around the lace cupping her hips.

  “With all the drama tonight, I missed out on cake,” he muttered against her mouth. “I’m going to need something sweet on my tongue.”

  As his words registered, a wave of dizzying heat flared over her. “I can find you a piece. Or wrangle up some candy.”

  When she gave him a playful shove and made to rise from the bed, he pushed her back down. “Stay.”

  His voice was a growl. His word was a command. He yanked her panties off her body and flung them away, then flicked open the buttons on his dress shirt with sharp, sure movements. She swooned more.

  “But you wanted something sweet,” she teased. “I was going to help you.”

  He shucked his shirt and tossed it aside. “The only thing you need to do is spread your legs and let me eat your pussy.”

  On some level, Maggie knew she shouldn’t like his demand. She believed in equality, equal pay for equal work, that a woman was every bit as smart as a man—and often smarter. But she felt her IQ temporarily slipping as she gaped at his massive shoulders and hard pectorals. His biceps looked bigger than her thighs, and he had abs for days.

  Mercy . . .

  Then Josiah gave her a wolfish smile, palmed his way up her thighs, and used his own legs to spread hers wider. Whatever intelligence she had deserted her then and curled up in the corner with a mental bowl of popcorn to watch the seduction unfold.

  Using one hand, Josiah shoved the gray silk skirt around her waist. With the other, he spread her folds open and stared unabashedly. “Let’s hear what you sound like when you orgasm, baby.”

  Maggie had a terrible suspicion it wouldn’t take long before he found out. Already her breathing had accelerated, her clit ached, and her womb clenched. Somehow, she had to slow him down, find an opportunity to work her way under his reserve and undo him.

  “Wait,” she breathed. “Aren’t you going to kiss me some more?”

  “Of course I am.”

  But he wasn’t looking at her mouth. Not at all. He was squarely focused on the slick, needy flesh between her legs, and his intimation was clear.

  “Josiah, I—”

  “You need to let me make you feel good, baby. Lie back.” He grinned. “Bet you can’t stay quiet . . .”

  Her entire body tightened again.

  Lord, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from ceding her control to him, and Maggie struggled to cope. She was used to being the one to drive a man mad. She was usually the one who made them squirm and beg. No guy had ever turned the tables on her. She hated it. But god, deep down, she loved it even more.

  “You’re going to taste way better than cake,” he murmured as he dipped his head.

  Just like his kiss, he didn’t come at her straight on. He teased, breathing on her sensitive flesh and making her shiver. He merely responded by holding her to the mattress and doing it again, then watching her shudder helplessly. As he glided his thumb across her hood, Josiah cataloged her responses and delighted in her gasp. He followed that by slowly pushing a finger inside her, encouraging her as she wriggled and tightened.

  “I see you biting that lip. Don’t hold back.”

  “You’re trying to undo me.”

  Between her legs, his lips curled up. “There’s no trying about it.”

  Maggie couldn’t handle how right he was. Josiah Grant was going to learn every secret of her body in a single night, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

  He further proved his point when he breathed on her clit again as he slowly thumbed it while his finger inside her teased her most sensitive spots. She stiffened, tensed, writhed.

  “C’mon,” he cajoled. “I’m not going to stop teasing you until you make noise.”

  “But my grandparents are downstairs and—”

  “You told your sister earlier they don’t hear well anymore.”

  They didn’t. She could probably scream the roof down and they would still swear the house was silent.

  “Wedding guests are staying in rooms just down the hall.”

  “You care more about them than your orgasm? If you do, I’m doing something wrong and I’ll be happy to try harder to wring pleasure from you.”

  If he did, he would melt her altogether.

  “No.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to . . .”

  “I think I do.”

  He took perverse pleasure in both her pleading and her predicament. Maggie didn’t know how to respond. Some distant part of her wanted to rail at him to stop. The need jetting through her body and rushing blood to all her most sensitive places drowned that silly thought out.

  As if to see whether she’d learned her lesson, Josiah torqued her up again, his breath falling hot over her needy bud as he swirled it under the pad of his left thumb and slowly fucked her with his right fingers.

  This time, not even threat of death could have compelled Maggie to stay quiet. She let loose a shuddering, desperate cry.

  “What a pretty sound,” he said with satisfaction. “Let’s see how you do once I’ve got my mouth on your pussy. And, baby? I promise you more feel-good rewards if you scream my name when you come.”

  CHAPTER 3

  He’d definitely fucked up by not removing her dress first. Josiah would have liked to see Maggie’s lush breasts sway and bob as he worked her to climax. But he couldn’t regret much now. The night was still young, and he had his face right above her sweet, slick pussy.

  Overall, life was good.

  He liked the way she was already worked up, the soft blush spreading across her cheeks, the fact her feminine folds were swelling before he’d really touched her. Magnolia West was all woman, totally responsive. And unless he missed his guess, no man had put in the effort to learn her body so he could ply her with the perfect pleasure.

  Josiah liked the notion of being the first.

  But he’d have to keep his damn head above water. Every time goose bumps broke across her skin and his nostrils filled with her spicy female scent, he found it harder not to shuck his pants, climb on top of her, and thrust deep—everything else be damned.

  Maggie grabbed fistfuls of the comforter and rolled her hips. The animal sounds of her desperation trilled in his ears, roared through his brain, yanked on his cock. Fuck, teasing her was tormenting him. Every moment he put her off and she begged a little more was a moment his self-control continued to unravel.

  “I will. I’ll scream for you. I’ll cry out your name.”

  Maggie said that now, but she was a stubborn little thing. In fact, she was the kind of woman who would always provide a challenge; it was in her nature. That only whetted his appetite.

  Over the years, he’d had both girlfriends and subs—more the latter than the former lately. His demanding job didn’t leave a lot of room for relationships, and he hadn’t missed them one bit. What he had missed, though, was actual human connection. He missed giving a shit about the woman he was fucking.

  With Maggie, that didn’t seem to be a problem. Caring about her was an odd change of pace.

  Because he gave a shit, he didn’t like her worrying about Enlightenment Fields. Or knowing that once he left Comfort, Sawyer would still be lurki
ng, hoping to catch her in another weak moment. He especially didn’t want to think that her soft mouth and velvety pussy wouldn’t be his after tonight.

  “Josiah . . .” Her little whine was like a lust injection straight to his bloodstream. Why didn’t something—anything—about her not turn him on?

  He thumbed her pouting clit again, then inhaled her. Jesus, he could stay hard to her scent for days.

  When he’d nuzzled her neck, the hint of female and peaches had been a sweet turn-on. But between her legs? Her sweetness gave way to spice that was more vanilla–cinnamon sugar. More than woman. Josiah couldn’t put his finger on what it was about her, but he inserted another finger inside her, eager to suck her needy bud and get her off.

  “Give it to me, baby,” he insisted thickly. “Give me everything.”

  She moaned and bobbed her head as her body undulated sensually beneath him. Then he nudged two fingers deeper into her sweltering depths and dropped his tongue to her clit.

  The instant her flavor hit his tongue, she branded him. So sweet. He had to have more. He had to have his mouth on her when she found pleasure. He needed her right fucking now.

  With his fingers swirling at her G-spot, he licked and laved her swelling button until her gasping, panting breaths filled the room, her body tensed, and her spine arched from the bed. She was seconds away, and he couldn’t wait.

  “That’s it,” he ground out, fascinated by the one-to-one relationship between his touch and the mewling roll of her hips.

  “Josiah . . .”

  “Hmm,” he hummed against her engorged button. “Don’t hold back, baby. Give me your fire. Your will. All of you.”

  She lurched off the mattress moments before she reached for him, one hand curled over the short-shorn hair on his skull. The other clawed at her thigh, and the sideshow of watching her dig her nails into her skin as she spread her legs desperately wider for him turned him the fuck on.

  “Josiah . . .”

  Her voice was higher, breathier, yet somehow louder. Around his fingers, her flesh tightened, clutching at his digits, rocking in search of satisfaction. Yeah . . .