He buried his fingers in Maggie’s hair as he tried to work through the questions. After a week with her, his suspicion that she might have been involved was dissolving beneath his hunger for her and the knowledge that if money had been what Maggie was after, then she would have never cut him out of her life as she had.
He had money. A DEA agent’s pay sucked, but his family was one of the most influential in Georgia, and his trust fund would see any children he had into old age if they were careful. Not to mention what his parents would one day leave him. If Maggie had been after money, then she had missed a much easier opportunity than marrying Grant and becoming involved with the Fuentes family.
Instead of trying to snag him for marriage or money, Maggie had left him. Not that Joe claimed anything as his own. Money was accessible if he needed it. But his parents’ money wasn’t his own, and he refused to touch it. Still, that wasn’t the reason she had been so furious. She hadn’t forgiven him for not warning her before she saw the daughter of the man they were investigating on his arm.
He had been there to get information. He had gotten the information, but he had lost the girl. His girl. Was he willing to lose her again?
A soft moan slipped past her lips as she moved against him again, her lips pressing the bare flesh of his chest. Joe clenched his teeth against the heated pleasure of her soft little tongue stroking over the flat, hard disk of his male nipple.
Could he survive another night of her in his arms without touching her? God, it was getting hard. She was like a little kitten, pressing to get closer, her fingers curling against his abdomen, her nails raking his flesh and sending a flash of clenching sensation to seize his balls. Sweat popped out on his forehead, along his chest and thighs, and his cock tightened further.
His erection was so damned hard, so sensitive he bit back a tortured groan as the crest flexed against the material of his sweatpants. And there was no relief. He sure as hell wasn’t going to try jacking off with her in the bed with him, and doing it any other time was out of the question. Besides, the hollow release gained from the act wasn’t what he needed. He needed Maggie, her sweet, tight pussy enveloping him, burning him as he possessed her.
“Joe.” His name whispered past her lips, that sleepy little plea he remembered from the past, the throb of hunger in her voice that had once had him turning to her, slipping easily inside her as he awakened her fully to his touch.
Instead, he now lay still, tortured, tormented as her silken hand moved over his stomach, caressing, raking her short nails over his flesh and sending agonizing bursts of pleasure through his cock.
He breathed in slow and deep as her teeth raked over his nipple, a murmur of feminine pleasure vibrating from her throat as her hand moved lower.
Joe lifted his arm, his free hand gripping a slat in the headboard behind his head as he fought for control as anticipation began to spiral inside him. He knew her like this. Drowsy, when she would awaken in the middle night, hungry for him, all kittenish and relaxed. And he wasn’t about to fuck this up. No way in hell. In those brief minutes between sleep and awake, Maggie had the most amazing habit of forgetting if she was pissed off with him. If she didn’t remember it right now, he wasn’t reminding her. Uh-uh. Was not going to happen.
“Maggie.” He couldn’t stem the hoarse groan that left his throat as her fingers played with the elastic band of the sweats.
He could feel his mouth drying out as anticipation began to build, his erection flexing in need as her fingers began to move beneath the band.
“Hmm,” she murmured against his chest, her teeth sinking against his flesh in a sensual, warning little bite, as he parted his thighs and let her have her way.
Hell no, he wasn’t reminding her of nothin’. If he did, then she was likely to turn away, to be embarrassed, angry. Whichever, it meant she would stop touching him, that the blazing heat of her hand wouldn’t …
Son of a bitch!
His hips jerked violently as she moved again. Slender fingers tried to encircle the raging shaft as she shifted against him again, her lips moving lower on his chest.
Oh hell, he knew what was coming. He remembered this well, and if she came to her senses while his dick was in her mouth then she was likely to get violent.
But it wasn’t like he was encouraging her, he assured himself as he lifted his other hand to the headboard, determined not to guide her head lower. Hell no. He wasn’t going to stop her. She was a grown woman. If she wasn’t going to remember she was pissed, then he was not reminding her. Wasn’t going to happen.
He fought to breathe as he stared in dazed pleasure at the ceiling above the bed, nearly panting in lust as her fingers pushed his sweatpants down, struggling to guide the material over the erection.
“Good,” she mumbled with a soft smile against his flesh, as the cloth finally slid beneath the thick, iron-hard flesh rising eagerly to her touch.
Her fingers wrapped around him again, stroking slowly from his balls to his crest, as his hips arched involuntarily to her caress. Her fingers were like living silk as they rasped over the sensitive flesh. Her lips and tongue were hungry, heated as they moved below his chest, kissing, licking, taking sensual little nips from his flesh.
It always amazed him in the past when she would do this. That her need could so overtake her in those moments when she awoke that nothing mattered to her but being with him. Touching him. Tasting him. Destroying him with her hunger.
She was destroying him now. He ground his head into the pillow, bit back a violent growl that she hurry, and fought to enjoy as much as possible before she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him.
Two and a half years. He hadn’t had a woman since the last night Maggie had spent in his bed. And God, he had missed her. This was why no other woman had shared his passion, because he knew no other could compare to what he was finding at this moment.
Knowing he was making an even bigger mistake, he moved his gaze from the ceiling, looking down the line of his body, as the dim light that burned past the partially closed bathroom door fell on Maggie’s head as he watched her move lower. Lower.
“Sweet heaven. Maggie, baby,” he panted.
He couldn’t take much more. He was shaking; sweat pouring from his body as she moved to his abdomen, her tongue painting a path of fiery need across his flesh.
Closer. Ah, God, her tongue was so close. It was torture, the worst sort of agonizing pleasure, to have her silken tongue so close and yet so far away from his engorged erection.