Page 68 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

An eternity later, our lips slowly part. “You’re amazing,” I murmur.

Her lips are puffy, her sensitive skin pink from my beard. Marks that stoke the primitive man in me, who wants to growl, stake his claim, and call her mine.

Her eyelids flutter as she touches her lips. “That was…unexpected.”

“In a good or bad way?”

She seems to press herself harder into the wall, her shoulders hitching higher. “Feeling what you make me feel terrifies me.”

“Letting go is scary. Falling is scary, but I’m great with ropes and a belay. I’ll always catch you.”

“What if I can’t do this?” She searches my face, her wide eyes darting. “What if I freak out and hurt you?”

I shrug as though the possibility is a nonissue. Total lie. Truth is, everything Maggie does affects me, good and bad. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Simple math. One plus one equals two. Maggie plus me is an equation I’m willing to gamble on.

I pick her up and swing her into my arms. She squeals, tossing her head back with an unabashed grin. I cradle her against my chest and walk us upstairs, toward my room, loving how she relaxes into me. She kisses my neck, that moment of intensity melting into something sweeter. The truth of us. We can be real together—intense, fun, honest, and everything in between.

I drop her at the foot of my bed, then start undoing the buttons on my shirt. “Race you to nakedness.”

She quickly reaches for her back zipper. “You have a head start.”

“I have more clothes.”

Grinning at each other, we unlatch and untuck and unzip, hopping and stumbling in tandem. My shirt hits my dresser. Her heels get kicked off somewhere. My belt flings against the wall as I nearly trip on my jeans and briefs. Her dress and bra and sexy underwear wind up strewn all over my room, and Jesus fuck. Freckles. All of them. A galaxy of stars, decorating the full moons of her breasts, the crest of her belly, the womanly lines of her thighs and calves. A constellation of freckles I’d like to name home.

I grip my shaft, give it a squeeze. “You’re a fucking fantasy.”

She rolls back her shoulders, the confident move shredding what’s left of my sense. There’s nothing sexier than a woman comfortable in her own skin. “What do we do in this fantasy of yours?” she asks.

“You touch me. Everywhere. All at once. Or part of me. I don’t care. I just need your skin on mine.” Now. Yesterday. Eleven years ago.

We move at the same time, meeting in a crushing embrace, and yeah. I knew feeling Maggie skin against skin would short-circuit my brain, but this smooth slide? Her soft breasts rubbing against my hard chest, the porcelain planes of her back and waist under my roving hands, our legs and hips meeting as my erection presses against her abdomen?

I was not prepared for this.

“I thought you were hot in high school.” She charts my back, her palms sliding down to my ass. “But now? You’re so fucking sexy, Lennon. And sweet and funny. You’re…” She trembles as she trails off.

Everything in me clenches, including my heart.

I kiss her and move us to my bed. We fall together onto the mattress as her hands bump down the lines of my abs. My fingers dance on a swirl of freckles at her hip, then I toy with the delicate curls between her thighs, my mouth and tongue busy on her full breasts. I can’t touch enough of her. Can’t believe she’s opening herself up to me, but it’s a battle of wills. Maggie’s hands are everywhere too. On my shoulders, my hips, my ass. She flicks her tongue over my nipple—a move that rips a gusty Jesus from me—while we touch and slide and slip against each other.

When her soft hand wraps around my length, my hips buck. She gives my shaft a few pumps, then she drags her thumb over the swollen head.

I hiss. “Fucking hell, Mags.”

I’m so hard it hurts. A dribble of come escapes, and she pushes her finger through the wetness, branding me with fire. I move her hand off, can’t take this much pleasure. “When I come, baby, it’s gonna be inside you. But I think I’ll taste you first. Lick that pretty pussy of yours.”

Her eyes flare. “Someone’s a dirty talker.”

“Consider yourself my muse.” I bite and lick her ear.

I move down her body, charting a course to my nirvana, and we both moan. My first lick up her slit has her bowing off the mattress. My teasing strokes have her clutching my hair. Enthralled, I go harder, flicking her swollen nub while marking her hips with my fingers.

She yanks my hair. “God, that feels good.”

“It’s about to get better.” I go slower and make her curse. Rub my beard over her inner thighs, then go back for more. I want her desperate for her release. Desperate for me and more mind-blowing nights like this. When she bucks up and whimpers, I give her what she wants, sucking harder, flicking faster, until she shakes against my face, shouting Fuck and Yes and Oh my fucking God.