Page 18 of My Mismatched Valentine

I cup her cheek, tilting her face up so our gazes meet. I hate that her eyes are shiny with tears. I want to erase the anguish she feels. The ghost of a smile that tugs at her lips promises I’m on the right track. “There aren’t enough adjectives in the dictionary to fairly describe all your awe-inspiring qualities.”

“That sounds like a cop-out,” she says with a half-hearted laugh, flattening her palm against my chest.

“You’re intelligent, driven, kind hearted, beautiful, sexy—”

She reaches for my cheek. “Okay, you can kiss me now.”

Our lips collide in a hungry frenzy, rivaling the kisses that have come before. She fists my shirt, threatening to rip the fabric until I take it off. Her fingernails scrape lightly across my chest as I pull her sweatshirt over her head. As I suspected the last time she wore this one, there’s nothing on underneath. Her tits spring free. I palm them both as I back her against a wall, deepening the kisses. Those perfect globes fit right into my hands, as if it were always meant to be this way.Because it is.

Our bodies press together, tangling as one. She bends a knee, lifting it to my hip. I press my erection against her center, rocking myself against her damp, barely-there pajama shorts. Fingernails dig into my neck as she moans my name.

“Can we stop playing this game?” I scoop a hand beneath an ass cheek and squeeze, tempted to take her right here. To claim her before she slams a wall back up.

“Mmm.”

“Will you fucking marry me already, Maggie?” I ask, tugging on her earlobe with my teeth.

“Oh, what the hell?” She cups my cheek, her dazed eyes locking with mine. “Why not?”

I lift her by the ass. She wraps herself around me like a pretzel as I carry her down the stunted hall to the bedroom. Karl trots behind us, but I risk his friendship by kicking the door closed before he can make it inside. “Sorry bud,” I call back to him through the closed door. “Only one pussy’s allowed in here right now.”

I toss Maggie onto the bed and yank off her shorts. My cock throbs with need to be inside her channel. But I’ve waited this long. I can wait one orgasm longer.

“I need to taste you,” I growl, crawling onto the bed and popping up between her legs. Her bent legs drape over my shoulders, her thighs open in offering. I kiss a greedy trail fromone knee to her inner thigh, stopping to drag my tongue through her folds. “Mmm. So fucking sweet.”

She whimpers as I move to kiss the inside of her other knee, blazing a trail with my lips back to her pussy.

Another time, another round, I’ll slow down and savor every inch of her. Tonight, though, I’m ravaging my woman. I’m making sure I blow her fucking mind with each explosion of pleasure. If Maggie decides to play runaway bride tomorrow, I want to haunt her fucking dreams for the rest of her days. I’ll ruin her for any other man.

I anchor her stomach with my arm before fusing my mouth to her pussy. I move my tongue in ragged swirling motions, then side-to-side. I drag the tip in circles around her clit and then plunge it into her channel. She cries out, fisting her sheets and thrashing beneath my hold as I repeat it all again.

I show no mercy in devouring her.

My tongue moves faster as I slip one, then two fingers into her tight entrance. “Fuck, Maggie,” I say against her core. The moan she lets out nearly makes me nut in my pants. Her hips thrust into my face as her back arches off the bed.

She explodes.

Her body convulses, her legs squeezing my head between her legs. But I don’t dare move my mouth. Not yet. I savor every last drop of her orgasm until she stills beneath me. Licking my lips, I finally come up for air and meet her sated, hazy gaze.

“You’re going to kill me with orgasms like that,” she says in a laughing pant.

“That’s only the first one, sweetheart. I’m far from finished with you—tonight and every other night ahead of us.”

CHAPTER 13

Maggie

My fingertips haven’t stopped tingling since that shouldn’t-be-possible-in-real-life orgasm. I stand on wobbly legs, leaning against the sink counter for balance because my legs are no better than overcooked spaghetti noodles.

I force my gaze to the mirror, grinning at the smudged mascara beneath my eyes. I squeezed my lids shut pretty hard when I exploded from the inside out. I wipe away the traces of racoon eyes, but don’t look away. For the first time in a long time, I see my body as the desirable, sexy figure it is. My curves aren’t the enemy. Quite the opposite in fact.

Wetness drips down my inner thigh, remembering the sensation of Dustin’s hands running up and down my body when we were still in the living room. I’m desperate for his touch. Ready to surrender myself to him.

Perfect match.

I’m going to sleep with him.

Then I’m going to marry him.

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