Page 52 of Irish Fury
Would she regret this? Regret him?
Would he pull away from her like he had all those years ago?
She wasn’t brave enough to tell him what her true feelings were, too much of a coward to chance him not returning them.
She knew he cared for her. They were friends. That was undeniable, but…
Jonathan’s thrusts stalled. “Mags? Where did you go?”
She would like to lie because she hated sounding insecure, but she wouldn’t. “I,” she halted before trying again. “I was wondering how long it would take before you got bored and moved on to another woman like you’ve always done in the past.”
He reared back, looking angry and hurt, pinning her hands above her head. “Listen to me, Margaret Morrow. I won’t grow bored,” he practically growled. “I won’t move on. I never had you in my arms.”
She was quick to remind, “You did. Once.”
“And I fucked that up, yes. I handled my feelings and yours in the worst way. You were only seventeen?—”
“Almost eighteen at the time,” she interrupted.
“Almost eighteen,” he conceded, “and my dad would have ripped me a new one had I touched you like I’d really wanted to.”
She could only nod, acknowledging the point. Still…
“Mags,” he said in a stern voice, tugging her hands higher until her chest arched, causing her breasts to press against his chest, “I need this chance. I’m not talking about sex, though I’mdying for it. I mean that I need you to believe in me again. We can stop the physical tonight, just don’t stop our new start.”
Whatever tension had been building drained from her neck and shoulders. Jonathan might have proved his ability to be a prick in the past, but he wasn’t a liar. She needed to remember that.
“I want the new start too. I also want the physical. Continue your perusal of my awesome body,” she grinned, hooking her heels over his ass.
thirty-one
MAGS
When they kissed,it started slow—unhurried, almost tentative—but the heat between them built quickly, catching and spreading until it was impossible to ignore. Soon, the air felt warmer, charged, their breaths uneven as they lost themselves in it.
Mags drew in a shaky breath, her forehead brushing his as Jonathan murmured her name, the sound low and strained.
Their hands moved constantly, exploring, holding, pulling each other closer as if neither could get enough. Every touch seemed to spark something deeper, her body alive with sensation, every nerve tuned to him.
“I need to be inside you,” he groaned as he pushed first one and then two fingers inside her body.
She sucked in a sharp breath at the fullness. It was nothing compared to what the thick shaft dragging across her inner thigh would feel like. Still, it was heaven. Her hips were already half frantic, thrusting up to meet him.
“Con…condom?” she asked, barely getting the word out when he pushed his fingers deeper and curled them just enough to make her eyes roll back.
Jonathan’s ministrations stalled, and his eyes widened. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he cursed. “Are you on—” he cut himself off, wincing.
“I’m on the pill, and I’ve only ever used a condom,” she offered.
“I’ve never gone without one.”
He looked so desperate, it was precious. “First time for both of us then.”
She could feel the slight tremor in his hands as he straightened and ran his hands from her neck to her hips.
Lining his sex up with her center, he slicked his head back and forth. He made a “Ahh” sound while she said, “Oh, God.”
“This feels…I’ve never felt,” he tried again, “…this first time might be…fast.”
