16. Magnolia
SOMETHING HAS BEEN building inside me from the moment we first met, slowly but surely, from the very beginning. Every look, stolen or otherwise, every word spoken and sung, every touch, all leading here. I should have seen it.
I don’t know what it is. Not yet. But it’s there. Growing inside me, changing me. Maybe it’s whatever gift I’ve had buried inside me. Maybe it’s something completely different. Whatever it is, it’s here.
He pushes into me, taking my breath away, and something shifts. I tighten my grip on him, digging my nails into his skin and hooking my ankles behind his back. Goosebumps erupt across my body as my neck arches into his waiting teeth, and when they sink into the tender skin beneath my ear, I barely recognize the guttural moan that escapes me. “More,” I bite out. “Please, god, Riggs—more.”
“Magnolia,” is his only response, his voice dark and utterly ravenous.
The salt lamp falls with a crash onto the floor.
Then he moves. He thrusts into me, deep and glorious, locking in, filling me beyond anything I have ever felt. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had more than a passing care for the men and women I’ve slept with, but this. This. There’s a lightness to the way it feels, a rightness.
The feelings he’s pulling out of me as he sinks into me, over and over, his breath hot, his tongue slick against mine. The way he shifts us, cradling my entire body as he moves us onto our sides, then he’s pushing into me from behind, his hand reaching around to circle my clit. The position unlocks a new level of euphoria, and the sweet heat of another orgasm begins to swirl.
“Come for me, Magnolia,” he urges. “Let me feel you fall apart.”
I move my hand to join his, both of us touching me, circling my clit, as he strokes into me deep and hard. His breath comes in pants, and I turn my head to take his mouth with mine. A spike of bliss shoots through me, then another, and another, until I’m groaning into his mouth as I come.
“There we go. Fuck, the way you’re gripping me. Pulsing around me. You are everything, Magnolia. Everything.”
He’s nowhere near done. As my orgasm wanes, he shifts us again, going onto his back and pulling me on top of him. His eyes are navy in the dim light, his gaze rapturous, and something else that both terrifies and calms me to consider. His hands skim my waist before digging into my hips. He licks his lips. “Ride me, sweetheart. Take me exactly how you want me.”
I do. As I stare into his bottomless eyes, I go somewhere else, and I take him with me. Because even as we move with each other on his bed, in his room, we’re not there. Not really. We’re above and around and beneath and within, our hands entwined, my hair falling around his head, his own neck arching as I lick and bite his skin, taste the salty sweat of him, smell the woodsy scent of him, and my god, my god.
He pulls a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and I hiss with pleasure. I’m seconds from another orgasm. “Riggs,” I breathe.
He rolls us, his eyes flashing as he growls, “Not yet.”
I whimper. “I…can’t…stop it,” I gasp with every thrust.
Our breaths are fast and hot, utterly and completely feral, and he reaches behind my head to grab a handful of hair at the base of my neck. “Not yet, goddammit Magnolia, fuck.”
“So good,” I groan the word, my voice pitched low. The pain of it is exquisite and perfect, and my walls begin to tighten. Panting hard, our skin coming together over and over, I dig my nails down his back as Riggs pounds into me and finally loses his rhythm.
“Now,” he grits. “Come now.”
We shout as one, the words unintelligible as the orgasm pours over us, shuddering against each other as we hold on, his face buried in my neck and my arms and legs locked tight around him. For a moment, there is nothing but this, the coming together of our bodies, the bliss of sensual pleasure, the feel of Riggs spilling inside of me.
Finally, the orgasms subside, and we loosen our grip on each other. Riggs presses the softest of kisses on my neck, then chin, then forehead, then nose, before pulling back to look into my eyes.
“Magnolia.”
It’s all he needs to say. Our lips meet on a sigh. This time, the kiss is gentle, and the promise it holds is so deep that it almost takes my breath away.
As I breathe out, the closet door swings open.
The sun is higherin the sky than it usually is when I wake up. Beside me, Riggs is propped on pillows against the headboard as he reads a paperback, and it honestly takes me a minute to get my act together because this man is fulfilling a fantasy I didn’t know I had.
First of all, he let me sleep.
Also, he’s wearing glasses.
Reading.
While naked.
Ask me how I know.
The pristine white sheets are draped deliciously low on his hips, giving me a view of that beautiful divot that I have never before seen in real life. Right above that, he has a freckle and a scar that I’m betting is from chicken pox, and god, how is he so beautiful it literally makes my chest ache? I mean, I can understand the throbbing need between my legs, no matter that the man ravaged me last night, but my chest, too?
Speaking of chests. I sweep my gaze over his. All I want to do is lick him from hip to nip.
I snort a laugh, thoroughly amused with myself, and Riggs smiles down at me.
“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” he says affectionately.
I sit up, letting the covers fall, and his eyes darken. “Just thinking about how I want to lick you,” I admit.
He tosses the book with a flick of his wrist and has his glasses on the bedside table in under a second. Then he yanks me on top of him, my legs straddling his hips seamlessly. I squeal and prop my hands on his chest to steady myself.
“You may begin,” he intones.
“Begin what?”
He fights a smile. “The licking. Anytime you want. I’m all yours.”
I laugh again, but it stops as quick as it came as his hand snakes between my legs.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Magnolia. You’re soaked.”
I wiggle against him, suddenly overcome with need. “Now, Riggs.”
Wordlessly, he lifts me up and onto him in one smooth movement, and my eyes roll back in my head as he fills me. “My god,” he rasps.
I moan in response, unable to form words. He’s deeper this morning than he was at any point last night.
His hands latch onto my hips, and he begins to move us. I’m on top, but he controls everything, lifting me up, back and forward as he thrusts up and in. I thread my arms over his shoulders and meet his mouth for a kiss. It’s perfect. All of it is perfect.
When we come, we come together.
Later, after a shower where he washes me head to toe, he makes us breakfast tacos with fluffy eggs and slices of avocado topped with fresh pico de gallo, all in warmed street-style tortillas.
And I know, without question, that I’m in love with this man.
The tacos help, obviously. But really, I love him. And it’s terrifying, because I’m certain it puts him in danger.
His eyes, back to their aqua brightness in the light of day, sparkle at me from across the kitchen island we’re eating at. “What?”
I finish my last bite and prop my chin in my hands. “You.”
He looks around, then points a finger at his chest. “Me?”
“Yeah. You.”
He smiles and lays his palm up for me to take it. I do, and the spark—that damn knowing spark—tingles through our hands. He looks down meaningfully, then back up to me. “You ever gonna tell me what that means?”
There’s a part of me that wants to skirt the question. A different part isn’t afraid at all anymore, and that’s the part I lean into. “That we’re…meant to be.”
His face goes slack for a second, and a wave of regret washes over me. Have I said too much? Gone too far? Then he smiles, big and broad and so bright I nearly squint in the face of it. “Really?”
A giggle bubbles out of me. “Really.”
He squeezes my hand, then releases it to sit back in his chair. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. And closes.
“Rendered you mute, huh?” I tease.
“I…yeah,” he huffs a laugh. “I guess you have. Give me a minute. This is good—I promise you I’m excited—I’m more than that. I just…shit. Really?”
“Riggs,” I chide. “That was a fantasy book you were reading earlier. I know you can figure this out.”
His eyes widen. “Wait. Are we, like, mates? Holy shit, are we mated?”
I hold my hands up and laugh. “Easy there, buddy. We’re not mates. That’s fiction. But we’re…something. I don’t have a word for it. My sister or mom might, but yeah,” I say softly. “Something.”
“Is it bad that I want to call my pops and tell him I have a mate, just to fuck with him?” he asks, mischief dancing in his eyes.
I nearly spit out the water I’ve taken a sip of. “Riggs!”
“That’s a no, got it,” he smiles.
I shake my head. “Who are you, and what did you do with the slightly growly man I know?”
“That guy didn’t have a mate, Magnolia!”
“Oh my god. I’ve created a monster.”
He slides off his stool and walks around the island. I turn to him, and he steps between my legs. It’s harder than it should be to ignore the way my body reacts to him, and the playful energy flowing off him isn’t helping. “This isn’t all magic, Magnolia,” he rasps, his voice low.
It isn’t a question, exactly, but I shake my head anyway. “No. It’s the Universe acknowledging what’s already there. Or what will be there. There’s no magic here.”
“Except for my cock, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “That’s magical.”
I bark out a laugh and kiss him. “Hate to say it, but I don’t think your dick is receiving any sort of magical talents.”
“All natural, then. Good to know.” He chuckles and kisses me again. “My amazing, beautiful, talented beyond belief, witchy, nerdy—ow,” he says as I swat at him, “chemistry teacher Magnolia.” He exhales roughly, then pins me with a stare. “I love you.”
I hitch a breath.
He cups my face, and a thumb strokes my lower lip. “I know it’s probably too soon to say it, but I think I’ve loved you from the minute I laid eyes on you. Certainly from the minute I heard you sing. You enrapture me. Magic or no magic. Sparks or no sparks. I will do whatever it takes, will be whoever you need, as long as you let me love you.”
My heart has wound around itself with every word out of his mouth, growing tighter and tighter, and now, it simply bursts. I pull his mouth to mine, pouring every emotion into the kiss I can possibly pour, hoping against hope he can feel what his words mean to me. How can I tell him how much it means to me that he’s said all of this?
How can I tell him that he may have just signed my death sentence? Or his own?
I say it anyway. Because I have to be brave. I’m scared of what’s coming next, yes, but not scared enough to keep these words to myself. He has to know. I break the kiss. “I love you, too.”
My scalp tingles as Riggs pulls me tighter to him, my legs wrapping around his waist as he lifts me and carries me back to the bedroom to ravish me once again.
It’s not until much later, when I’m putting myself together in the bathroom before going home, that I see what’s happened.
Slowly, so slowly that I can’t tell how long it takes, I raise my hand to touch the silver streak that now runs through my white-blonde hair.