Save My Soul (21 page)

Earthy noises escaped her lips, and she brought a hand between her teeth to stop from crying out.

Jordon smiled as he played with her breasts. “You're beautiful.”

She managed words mixed with breathless laughter. “And you're merciless.”

He slipped a finger deep inside of her, and she gasped.

“What's wrong?”

She closed her eyes again and quickened the rocking of her hips. “Nothing.”

“Maggie.”

She loved the way he said her name.

“Maggie.”

It started pressed between his sweet lips, and rolled off his tongue like music.

“Maggie, open your eyes.”

If he stopped now, she would die. Forcing her eyes open, she gripped the comforter in her hands and arched her back until her body trembled with the first waves of orgasm. “Jordon … ”

The words were right there, dripping from her bottom lip and yet the room fell silent. Maybe she was too spent to speak a full sentence. “Jordon, I … ”

“I know.” He lifted over her and pressed his lips to hers, his hand tracing the curves of her breasts. “I know what you want to say.” He brushed the bend of her shoulder with his lips. “That's why I wanted your eyes open. The windows to the soul.”

She closed her hand over his, holding them both over her heart. Staring deep into the eyes she once found cold and lifeless, she saw the only future she ever wanted.

Desire stirred again as he rolled her aching nipples between his fingers and traced the curve of her chin with the tip of his tongue. “Jordon?”

“Yes?” His warm breath rushed across her ear lobe.

“Make love to me.”

Jordon sat on the edge of the bed and thought about how far they'd come. He loved Maggie. Maggie loved him, and there was no bigger turn-on. The proof pressed against the seam of his boxers, and he squeezed the air from his lungs, hoping to relieve some pressure.

When her warm skin smoothed against his bare back, threatening his resolve, he stood. “Lay down, Maggie.”

Faint light from the living room lit her face enough to reveal uncertainty. He flicked the clasp on his gabardines and let them drop to the floor.

She slid along his satin comforter until she settled against a wall of down-filled pillows. “Like this?”

“Like that.” He stared a little too long, hoping to emblazon the dusky image on his brain. She belonged in his bed from the moment he first saw her, and now that she was here, he'd never let her go.

Crawling across the mattress until he covered her body with his, Jordon feasted on her lips and tongue. Beneath him, Maggie was different. She hesitated before every touch, her fingertips grazing his chest like she expected to be burned. The innocence drove him wild.

Jordon scooped her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. Their bodies aligned, and without any conscious direction or barrier between them, he slid inside of her.

He wasn't sure he could move, wasn't sure he wanted to. He knew he should put on a condom before he continued. Instead, he opened his mouth and sucked gently on the soft skin beneath her ear.

She wrapped her arms around him first, and then her long legs followed. Still, he couldn't move, and the quiet hardened him further.

“Jordon, please.”

Her voice snapped his trance and then her hips stirred. He thrust once, and she cried out.

For a moment, he wondered if all the blood rushing to his lower half would knock him unconscious. He pushed inside of her again.

“Yes, please. Yes.”

Again. He thrust as she begged and her legs tightened around his hips. The pace quickened, and he lifted his head to see her face. Her eyes were closed, her teeth shredding her bottom lip.

He wasn't sure he could speak, but he tried. “Open.”

She dropped her legs and widened underneath him. The loss of pressure made the thrusts deeper, wilder. He lifted on quaking arms. “Your eyes. Open your eyes.”

And when she did, he came inside of her. He should've pulled out. He planned to, but he got carried away. Even so, there was no regret, no worry.

For the first time in his adult life, he knew what he needed: a family.

• • •

If sex could change a life and enlighten a soul, sex with Jordon was that kind of sex. Maggie dropped her heavy head against the pillows and stared at the stars through the skylights above his bed. He wrapped around her and breathed against her neck.

Of course she loved him, but it was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. It was joyous and frightful all at once, like submitting to her desires and accepting the gift of his body was thrilling and scary, too. Light and dark — always combined — making the universe complete.

Just like Jordon completed her.

“Thank you.” Those were the right words to say, weren't they? She didn't know. She'd never felt compelled to thank a man after sex. Then again, what happened between her and Jordon was so much more.

There was a big difference between having sex and making love.

Jordon lifted his head. “Do you love me, Maggie?”

He knew she did. He said so moments before he rocked her with a physical connection that went beyond the world, but he deserved to hear her say the words.

“And not because I'm one of God's creatures.” He attempted a smile. “Do you love me the way a woman loves a man? Do you love me because when you look at me you see all the answers to every question you've ever asked about yourself, about this life, and about what comes next?”

They were such beautiful words, shared on a perfect moment, their bodies still joined. She wanted to laugh and cry. “Yes. I love you like that.”

He squeezed her. “Good, because that's the way I love you.”

Maggie kissed the top of his head and rubbed her palms against the warm muscles of his back. Now what? She had a life outside these four walls, a fledgling career and a mother to worry about. He had another life, too; a demanding schedule keeping him awake all night and sending him to random destinations on a moment's notice. This would hardly be a traditional relationship. Then again, Maggie was hardly a traditional girl. She could return to Utah and visit him when their schedules permitted. He could visit her, too. A man like Jordon would welcome a relationship with no traditional strings attached.

He lifted his face from the bend of her neck. “What would you say if I asked you to marry me and have my baby?”

So much for no strings.

Before Maggie could answer, she was saved by the BlackBerry. An hour later, she remained naked in his bed, swinging between joyous acquiescence and nagging realism. This was life with Jordon Kemmons. One minute she melted in his strong arms, the next she doubted he even existed. If it weren't for the exotic location and the low hum of his voice in the other room, she might attempt to convince herself she was dreaming.

She could get up, get dressed and do something productive, but his final words paralyzed her.
Marry me. Have my baby.

Sometimes Maggie already felt like a mother, what with Crystal's randomness and clients leaning on her for mental and emotional support. But would she know how to mother a real child?

She liked kids, liked the way they said what popped into their heads and did what their egos dictated. Kids lived pure and loved pure. They also required a lot of guidance, maybe more than Maggie could give. Doling out advice to people she kept at arm's length was different than guiding her own flesh and blood. It all came down to attachment.

Maggie slinked down the pillows and pulled the sheets higher over her breasts. Loving Jordon was a slippery slope. Falling for him amounted to the single greatest attachment. Having his children would simply add more. Could she live with that? Would she feel trapped? What if Maggie turned out to be like her mother, pushing everyone away in the name of detachment?

Jordon's shadow appeared before his body stood in the doorway. He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, and the light from the living room shone through the loose legs of his boxers.

“So this is what it's like to love a super hero?” She added a dreamy sigh for effect.

He set the BlackBerry on the dresser next to the door and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I'm no super hero.”

“That family would disagree.” Maggie heard enough of the conversation as he walked from the room to know Buttaglia's father had been on the other end of the line.

Pulling the covers down on the left side of the bed, Maggie patted her hand on the mattress. “Come here, Spider Man.”

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, moving toward her. “I thought you were scared of spiders.” He gathered her into his arms.

“Not anymore.” She weaved her fingers through the short, soft hairs peppering his pecs. “But I am scared of babies.”

He smiled. “I expected marriage to scare you more than a helpless little baby.”

“That's what scares me. What if I screw up?”

“You won't screw up.”

“What if I'm like my mother?”

He kissed the top of her head and rested his chin where his lips had been, smoothing his hand over her upper arm as they lay in silence.

“What if I'm like my father?”

Belief forced her to her knees. “That's not possible. Jordon, you're going to be an amazing father! You take care of everyone.”

He wound his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. “And you're going to be an amazing mother for the same reason.”

She pressed her lips to his and opened her mouth so he could deepen the kiss.

He stopped abruptly, leaving her stomach filled with mushy lust. In the moonlight, his bold brow rose and his lips curled. “So it's a yes?”

“It's a maybe. I know that's not the traditional romantic answer, but I need time to work through the non-traditional parts of me.”

He frowned.

“I love you.” She knew the words would make him smile, even as they made her stomach flip. “I do. One thing at a time, okay? Marriage and a baby are sudden and unexpected ideas, and I have other obligations to consider.”

“Like?”

“Like my career. If I agree to marry you and have your babies, then what?” He slipped a hand to her breast. One brush of his palm, and she melted. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“No. I'm trying to answer your question.”

She nipped at his bottom lip. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Where would we live?”

“Take your pick. I can live anywhere with an airport — and a bed.” He nibbled her ear.

“It's not that easy.”

“Sure it is. Do you like Salt Lake?”

“I do, but now that Crystal is gone, there's nothing keeping me there.”

“So … if you could live anyway, where would it be?”

She looked around the darkened room, recalling the first time she entered. Her daydreams of climbing into this bed had turned into premonition. After all the resisting, here she was, and here she wanted to stay.

“I want to live here,” she said, kissing him softly.

“Here in this bed or here in this house?”

Maggie smiled against his lips. “Both.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Jordon slipped his hand between her legs and wiggled his fingers dangerously close to her epicenter. As the flames climbed, Maggie decided further conversation could wait. Pulling her right thigh over his leg, her knee came to rest on the bulge in his boxers. She walked her fingers along his chest and planted soft kisses on the length of his neck.

Marrying this man seemed like a no-brainer. Not being with him amounted to torture. If having his baby was the only thing to worry about, Maggie should thank her lucky stars.

And she would as soon as …

The second phone call to interrupt them in as many hours kept Jordon away for only ten minutes, but when he returned to Maggie's side, his face was as twisted as it had been when he'd jumped out of bed to answer the phone.

“I have to go to New York.”

The emotional roller coaster plummeted. “Now?”

“Tomorrow morning. It's a long story, but basically we suspect an employee of stealing from the corporation, and it's time for a confrontation.”

He collapsed into bed with such force, Maggie's body lifted on a ripple of mattress. She smoothed a hand over his cheek to calm the pulsing in his jaw. He bore the worries of a father and the stress of a CEO. She felt his heart pound.

“Jordon, you can't … ” Despite her worry, she couldn't finish the sentence. Telling him he couldn't do what he was born to do, be who he was meant to be, was not the way to keep him healthy and happy.

“I can't what?”

Maggie slid on top of him to straddle his hips. Running her palms from his chest to his shoulders, she pushed the heel of her hands into the knots. “You can't go until you're completely relaxed.”

He gripped her waist. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely.” She moved her fingertips in firm circles over the base of his neck. “I'm going to fix you before you get on that plane. And when you get home, I'm going to have to insist on a follow-up appointment. Right here. Like this.” She dragged a palm to his throat and circled her fingers below his jaw.

He loosened on a moan. “Come with me.”

Her rhythm slowed.

“Come to New York. We can shop for an engagement ring at Tiffany, and I can propose at the top of the Empire State Building.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, which wasn't in her original plan for relaxation, but she didn't want to upset him with her words. “I can't.”

When she rocked her pelvis, he gripped her bottom, and she knew desire was having a soothing effect.

He slipped his tongue over her earlobe. “Why can't you?”

“No proposal until I work through some things.” She rocked against him until he was hard.