4. Alex Sebring
Chapter 4
Alex Sebring
The phone sits heavy in my hand, taunting me with its silence. Tension coils in my chest, my leg bouncing like I’ve got energy to burn. It’s been less than a week since she left—still too long without seeing her, without touching her, without breathing her in.
Time zones and schedules have turned our communication into a game of patience, and I fucking hate it. Magnolia should be here, in my bed, curled up against me where she belongs. But all I have is this damn screen and the ache of missing her.
I stare at my phone like I can make it ring by sheer force of will.
My worry is unnecessary. She’s going to call—she always does when she says she will—but that doesn’t stop the restless energy thrumming under my skin. My leg bounces, fingers drumming against my thigh as I glance at the screen again. Still nothing.
As the edges of my patience fray, my screen lights up. Magnolia Steel––FaceTime. Incoming. Join.
My pulse kicks up as I swipe to answer. And then she’s there—bright-eyed, smiling, looking more beautiful than ever.
“Hey, favorite.”
“Hey, big guy.”
My favorite. My girl. My American beauty.
She’s still in her work clothes, perched on her couch, one leg tucked under her, hair spilling over one shoulder. The soft lighting casts a golden glow on her skin, making her look like she belongs in a painting you can’t stop staring at.
“Still missing me?”
She rolls her eyes but grins. “Not even a little. I’m over the whole thing.”
I smirk. “You’re a terrible liar.”
She pretends to think about it. “It’s possible I miss you a little.”
There’s something different about her tonight. Her energy is lighter, her smile lingering. I know her too well not to notice. “All right, what’s got you all chirpy?”
Her smile widens, and there’s something in her eyes—excitement, anticipation. It’s infectious, the kind of expression that makes happiness rush through me.
“I have the best news ever.” She fights a smile by biting her bottom lip. “Okay… maybe the best news ever.”
“You’re killing me, babe. Let’s hear it.”
She takes a breath, dragging it out, and I’m certain she’s doing it on purpose––making me wait.
“There’s a chance Soul Sync might send me back to Australia to help with the new team.”
Everything inside me jolts awake. I sit up straighter, my pulse kicking up, a rush of adrenaline sharp and immediate.
“That’s amazing!” The words leave me fast, unfiltered, because fuck, it is amazing. The idea of her being here, of closing the distance, of having her in my space again sets my whole body buzzing.
She’s supposed to be here with me.
“I’m trying not to get too excited since nothing is certain. But it’s a possibility right now.”
“Possibilities have a way of turning into reality, especially when you want something bad enough.”
She smiles—that easy, tilt-your-world kind of smile that never fails to wreck me. “And you want this bad enough?”
I don’t hesitate. “More than the air I breathe.”
There’s a special kind of spark in her eyes. “I’m excited… really excited. But I don’t want to get my hopes up too soon.”
“Sure, that’s understandable.”
I believe it deeper than blood and bone that this is where Magnolia is supposed to be. And I won’t let her go again. I made the mistake of letting her slip through my fingers once. I told myself I was doing the right thing, that I was giving her space to figure things out, to decide for herself if we were worth fighting for.
But fuck that. I already know the answer.
And when she comes back, she’s not leaving again.
She stretches, and the movement draws my attention to the soft curve of her neck, the way her blouse shifts and hugs her perfect tits.
“So,” she says, tilting her head. “What have you been up to without me there occupying your every free minute?”
I’m a bloody sorry sap missing her like it’s a full-time job. Every hour, every minute, hell—every bloody second she’s not here feels off-kilter. I’m not fine. I’m wrecked. But no way I’m handing her all that mush on a silver platter. Not yet.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She narrows her eyes. “Yes, I would like to know. That’s why I asked.”
“Nothing interesting––working, venting my frustration in the gym. Mostly missing you.”
Those full, pouty lips of hers press together like she’s trying not to smile. “You miss me, huh?”
I hold her gaze. “Every damn second. But you know what I can’t stop thinking about?”
She reaches up and thumbs the diamond pendant resting against her collarbone. “Tell me.”
I let the moment stretch, my voice dropping lower. “Your touch. The feel of you.”
Her breath catches a little, enough to make my cock twitch in response.
And that teasing smirk returns, slower this time. “Yeah? Is that so?”
She shifts, her body language changing, softening, her playfulness turning into something warmer. Darker.
“Hold on a second.”
She disappears from view, and the screen goes dark. I thumb the screen of my phone, wondering if we lost connection. “Babe, are you still there?”
Her voice calls out from somewhere off-camera. “Hold on. Be patient.”
My pulse kicks up, anticipation tightening in my chest.
Patient? Not a fucking chance.
A second later, soft, sultry music hums through the speakers. Low. Slow. Hypnotic. I recognize it straight away. “Glory Box” by Portishead. One of her favorites. One of my favorites now as well—because of her.
The screen shifts, and when she steps back into view, my entire body goes tight.
She props her phone up at the perfect angle, giving me a full view. She moves with the music, slow and deliberate, like she has all the time in the world.
Fuck. I love where this is going.
I grab the landline phone off my desk with one hand and hit the call button for Courtney. She picks up on the first ring.
“Hold all my calls. And I’m not to be disturbed for any reason. Not until I say otherwise.”
A pause… because I never make demands like that.
“Of course, Mr. Sebring.”
I hang up and shove out of my chair, crossing the room in only a few strides. The door locks with a loud, satisfying click that feels a hell of a lot like throwing away the last bit of self-control I have.
I sink back into my chair, the phone gripped tight in my palm, every muscle in my body coiled so tight it’s a miracle I’m still breathing.
“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“You better fucking believe it.”
My American beauty begins with her hair, reaching up to unpin it, letting the chestnut strands tumble down over her shoulders. My grip tightens on the phone, my breath coming slower now, heavier.
She moves to the buttons on her shirt, undoing them one by one—so painfully slow it feels like she’s trying to kill me.
The fabric slips down her shoulders, revealing the delicate lace of her bra and golden glow of her skin, still tanned by the Samoan sun.
My cock twitches, my free hand already moving to rub the hard length through my trousers.
Her hands trail down the front of her body, slow and teasing, fingers flirting with the waistband of her skirt. Eyes locked on the camera—on me—like she knows good and damn well what she’s doing.
A slow, deliberate shimmy sends the skirt whispering down her hips, puddling at her feet. Lace and bare skin are all that’s left.
Fucking stunning. Ethereal. A dream I can’t touch—no matter how badly I want to.
Her fingers skate up her stomach, then higher, cupping her tits as she bites her bottom lip and moves her hips to the rhythm of the music.
I groan, my hand sliding into my pants, wrapping around my thick, aching length.
This is physical torture but the best kind.
Magnolia’s fingers trail down her stomach, slow and deliberate, her eyes locked on mine. She reaches behind her back, unfastening her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms before tossing it aside. My throat goes dry, my grip on the phone tightening as she bares herself to me.
Fuck.
Her thumbs hook into the lace of her panties, dragging them down her hips past her thighs, letting them fall in a heap on the floor before she climbs onto the bed.
She leans back against the pillows, one knee bent, her skin glowing in the soft light.
I can barely breathe.
“I’ve missed you,” she says, her fingers trailing lower, teasing.
“Show me,” I say, my voice rough, needy.
She doesn’t look away as she spreads her legs, her hand slipping between them. She exhales a soft, breathy sigh as her fingers stroke over herself, her body arching into her own touch.
“I miss the way you feel inside me. The way you fill me up and stretch me.”
A guttural groan rips from my throat. I lower my zipper enough to free myself, my hand grips my thick length, matching her slow, torturous rhythm.
The sound of her soft moans through the speaker sends a sharp pulse of need straight through me.
“You have no idea what I’d do to you right now.” My strokes tighten as I picture her beneath me, my hands gripping her, my mouth kissing and sucking on her skin.
“Tell me.” Her breath hitches as her fingers move in a circular motion. “I want to hear you say it.”
My grip tightens. “I’d have you pinned to the bed, powerless, your arms stretched over your head holding the headboard.”
Her eyelids flutter. “And what else?”
“I’d kiss my way down your body, taking my time.” My strokes slow, matching the lazy tease of her fingers. “But you wouldn’t be patient, would you?”
She shakes her head, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, a soft, desperate sound slipping from her throat—a sound that tells me no without saying the word.
“You’d be desperate. Already soaking for me. Already begging.”
A breathy moan slips from her lips. “That’s right.”
I groan, my restraint unraveling. “I’d slide my fingers inside you first, stretch you, feel how tight you are. And then when you were nice and slick, I’d push my cock into you––slow and deep––until you were shaking underneath me.”
She gasps, her back arching, her fingers working in slow, deliberate strokes.
“And then you know what, favorite? I’d wreck your perfect, tight little pussy. And when I came, I’d fill you with every drop of cum and then watch it drip out of you like a stream.”
Her whimper is sharp, breathless, and fuck, I can’t hold back any longer as her movements become more desperate. My body is right there with her, coiled tight, the tension unbearable.
The moment stretches between us, pulsing and electric, until neither of us can hold back.
She gasps my name as she shatters. I follow with a deep, ragged groan tearing from my chest as I fall over the edge with her.
Silence lingers, thick and sated, nothing but our heavy breathing filling the space between us.
I let out a breathless laugh, glancing down at the mess on my stomach. Fuck. It’s been a long time since I acted like this. Not since I was a stupid, hormone-drunk teenager.
The silence between us is thick with satisfaction. Our breathing slows, the lingering heat ebbing into something softer.
Magnolia exhales a contented sigh, her lips curling into a lazy smile. “That was…” she trails off, shaking her head like she doesn’t have the words.
I chuckle, still catching my breath. “Yeah. It was.”
She laughs. “Damn, you have a filthy mouth. I love it. I needed that.”
I smirk as I look back at the screen. “I needed it too, babe.”
She shifts against her pillows. I brace my elbows on the desk, holding the phone tighter, like that could somehow bridge the thousands of miles between us.
She tugs the blanket higher, fingers curling into the fabric. “I can’t wait until I can touch you again.”
I swallow hard, my voice coming out rough. “Me either, babe.”
She sighs, eyes flickering over my face. “I hate this.”
“It’s the worst.”
I watch as she tucks her chin, curling deeper into the warmth of her bed, her breathing slowing like she’s drifting. But she fights it, blinking hard, refusing to let sleep steal these last few minutes from us.
“You’re exhausted. Go to sleep.”
“Not yet. I… I don’t want our call to be over yet.”
It hits me low and hard, this need to have her with me.
“Nothing’s over. This is temporary.”
Her eyelids flutter, a drowsy smile tugging at her lips. “Say it again.”
“This is only temporary. Soon, you’ll be here, and I’m never letting you leave again.”
Her sigh is so soft, I almost don’t hear it. “Mmm. I like that plan.”
I watch her a little longer, waiting for the moment her breath evens out, for the telltale shift of sleep pulling her under.
It’s only after that I whisper, “Goodnight, favorite.”
Her response is barely audible. “Goodnight, big guy.”
The screen goes dark, and the hollow, gnawing weight of missing her is still there, sitting heavy in my chest.
Soon isn’t soon enough.