Page 50 of The Trope

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“Why?”

Maggie didn’t know which one of them moved. The tips of her nipples brushed against his firm torso.

“You know why.” She slid her hand up to cradle the nape of his neck. “I like you, Mac.”

His breathing grew shallow. He pressed his chest into hers with each ragged breath, but his hands remained clenched at his sides. Maggie thought they’d have come up to bracket her hips by now, sure he would have bent down to take her mouth. She was so sure that this would have been an easy sort of seduction, one where she just needed to get the ball rolling, and he’d take control for the rest of the run. Unless she’d read the whole situation wrong?

“I’m not Dean,” Mac said.

Maggie smiled up at him.

“I know.” She pressed her lips to the springy hair covering his jaw. His body trembled against her, a humbling thing to see in a man so solid. “I don’t want Dean.”

“You don’t?” His nose touched the sensitive skin along her temple and his breath ruffled the wisps of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

This was the moment of truth. The moment that had taken her weeks to recognize, but here she was. She was ready to take a chance and tell him the truth because the prospect of not having his hands on her again, not standing inches apart while they shared air, was incomprehensible. Mac wouldn’t make a move without her permission, so it was time to send out the welcome wagon. Maggie shook her head, just a tiny movement, but she felt the sigh that escaped him.

“I want you, Mac.” The words felt strange on her tongue, but that couldn’t be right. Her body was burning up with just the possibility of him. “I want you, Tyler.”

Finally,finally, his hands came up to bracket her hips and his head dipped as he fused his mouth to hers.

There was no restraint in Mac’s kiss. His lips were firm against hers and he tilted his head to better align their mouths. He slid one hand up her back to cradle the nape of her neck and hold her to him. His tongue swept the soft crease of her lips. When she opened her mouth, he plunged inside, twisting around her tongue. Maggie moaned into his mouth, and the corners of his lips twitched against hers, smiling as he kissed her. She smiled too and kissed him back.

Using the hand on her hip, Mac pulled Maggie into his chest and stepped back into his room. As soon as the door closed behind her, Mac pressed her against it. He leaned his torso into hers, solid but not too heavy. Despite the way his lips and tongue plundered her mouth, his hands held her with a gentle strength. It surprised her. She couldn’t have written a better juxtaposition.

Heat rolled through Maggie, spreading outward from every inch their bodies connected. Shudders followed in its wake until she was trembling against Mac’s hard form. She was wet. Her core clenched with a delicious ache. Maggie pushed up on her toes, her hips slotting against Mac’s as she chased his mouth. He froze, a groan rumbling through him, then pushed his hips back into hers.Thiswas heat.Thiswas chemistry.Thiswas everything that had been missing, not just with Dean, but with everyone.

“Slow.” Mac wrenched his mouth from hers, brushing warm, wet kisses down her jaw and throat. “There’s no rush. We take this slow.”

Maggie didn’t want slow. Her brain felt like it was melting, pouring out of her ears. Her body was losing shape, sinking into Mac’s solid heat until they fit together like matched puzzle pieces. Maggie carded her fingers into Mac’s hair and pulled his mouth back up to hers.

“Please.”

She sipped from his full lips, raising her leg to drape her thigh over Mac’s hip. He moved his hand to catch her behind the knee, pulling her leg higher. The movement brought the bulge under his jeans in direct contact with the ache between her thighs, and his groan poured into her waiting mouth.

“Fuck.” He rolled his hips against hers, catching Maggie’s breath.

Mac slid the hand holding her leg until her thigh rested on his powerful forearms. It left his hand free to grip her hips and tilt her pelvis into his. Maggie released his mouth, her head thudding back against the door as she panted.

“I was going to do this right,” Mac said against her throat. The short hair from his beard both tickled and scratched against her sensitive skin. “I’ve thought of this for so long—I had plans, Maggie. I can’t think when you’re around—I can’t—”

He sucked a bruise onto the column of her throat, right over her thundering pulse. He kissed the aching spot, his tongue swiping over the throb.

Maggie nodded, unable to make her voice work as he continued to rock their hips together. She’d had no plans. She had never even imagined this kind of heat, this kind of want, existed. Fast. He was right that they were moving fast, but the thought of stopping brought physical pain to her sensitized skin. She didn’t want to stop. She never wanted to stop. Maggie had been sure this electric feeling of need only happened in the pages of books. She’d never been so happy to be wrong.

“Please.” She forced her gaze to his, despite her heavy lids. “I need you.”

Mac groaned again and dropped his forehead to her collarbones. She could see the light sheen of sweat gathering along his temples. He worked his free hand up under her sweater and gripped her hip, his thumb brushing against the sliver of skin between her t-shirt and her leggings along the way. She shuddered at the contact and his hips stuttered in their rocking rhythm. He picked up where he’d left off, driving against her with more force.

“You don’t need to beg me, Maggie.” Mac squeezed his eyes shut, panting. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything.”

“I only want you,” she said.

Mac removed his hand from her skin long enough to hit the lock on his door. Scooping under her knee, he lifted her until she could wrap both her legs around his waist. He carried her to his bed and sat on the edge, pulling her tight against him as she straddled his lap. Maggie couldn’t resist the urge to roll her hips against him. She didn’t care if he could feel how wet she was, soaking through her leggings.

Mac reached over his head and pulled his shirt off, baring his chest. Dark hair curled along his pecs and down his stomach. It swirled around his belly button before arrowing down under his strained waistband. She wanted to press into him again, to roll her hips against his, but she wanted to be naked first.

“I’m sorry.” Mac drew her eyes up to his. “I know I’m not all muscled. Not like—”


Tags: Stella Stevenson Romance