18. Magnolia Steel
Chapter 18
Magnolia Steel
The soft patter of rain against the yacht’s roof pulls me from sleep before the sun has a chance to. Not that it matters—the overcast sky and thick clouds make it clear the sun won’t be making much of an appearance today. Outside, the world is draped in muted shades of gray, the kind of morning that whispers, Stay in bed a little longer. And with this man beside me, I don’t need much convincing.
Snuggled beneath the warm covers, JC’s arm draped lazily around me, I let myself sink into the moment. I could get used to mornings like this—waking up to the steady rhythm of his breathing, the heat of his body pressed against mine, and the feeling of being completely, utterly safe.
There’s something so settling about waking up beside him, like the chaos of the world can’t touch me as long as I’m here. It’s not just his presence—it’s the way he holds me, even in his sleep, as if letting go isn’t an option.
I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the peace, the quiet intimacy of it all. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. With him.
The rain grows heavier, a rhythmic tapping against the yacht’s roof, a steady reminder that today won’t go as planned. No swimming, no smooth sail back to Sydney. Just us, tucked away in this cozy little world while the storm unfolds outside.
I glance toward the windows, watching the rain ripple down the glass, blurring the view of the water beyond. It feels as though the world has drawn a curtain around us, leaving the two of us cocooned in this quiet, timeless space.
He stirs beside me, his raspy morning voice still heavy with sleep. “Looks like we’re staying put for a while.”
I’m perfectly content with the idea. “No complaints here. Not a bad excuse to stay cozy.”
His arm tightens around me, and he lets out a soft laugh. “Good because I’m not eager to sail through a downpour. Anyway, I’ve got the best company.”
A comfortable silence wraps around us, the kind where words aren’t needed. We stay in bed, nestled together, listening to the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows and the relaxing sway of the yacht beneath us. The moments blur, the quiet so calming it feels like time itself has slowed. Before long, my eyes grow heavy again, and I let myself drift back into the warmth of sleep, safe in his arms.
Eventually, the pull of the day tugs us from the cocoon of blankets. JC stretches, his movements slow and unhurried, while I stay for a moment longer, savoring the warmth of the bed. The rain hasn’t let up, creating a soft, steady rhythm that seems to set the tone for the rest of the day.
By midday, the rain shows no sign of stopping, casting a soft gray glow over the yacht. Lunch is simple yet perfect for the day: sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a bottle of bubbly. The quiet intimacy of the morning stretches into the afternoon as we settle in the living area, the steady patter of rain providing a lulling backdrop.
I rummage through my bag and take out a small deck of cards.
“What’s that?”
“A conversation-starter game. I found it while I was shopping for the dating suite and thought it might be fun. It will help us to know each other better faster.”
“Do we get to do dirty things to each other?” He leans back against the cushions, looking far too pleased with himself.
I laugh, shaking my head as I hold up the deck. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s not that kind of game. It’s about actual conversations.”
His grin holds a hint of intrigue. “Ah, so it’s a talking game. Got it.”
“It has three levels––close, closer, and closest.” I give him a playful look. “And just so you know, there’s no wimping out when things get personal.”
He raises his hands in playful surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Settling back beside him, I shuffle the deck, the anticipation making me smile. I’ve been looking forward to this since I bought the cards. “All right, should I read the questions, or do you want to?”
He leans back, looking entirely too relaxed. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
I glance at the first card and smile. “What is your love language?”
His eyebrows lift. “I don’t even know what love language means.”
Shaking my head, I bite back a grin. “It’s basically the way you prefer to show love to others—and how you feel loved in return.”
Holding the deck in one hand, I start explaining. “First, there’s words of affirmation. That’s when someone expresses love through compliments, heartfelt notes, or even a quick text to say they’re thinking of you.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nope, definitely not me.”
“Okay. Then there’s gift-giving. It’s not about the money—it’s more about thoughtful gestures, like a small keepsake or a meaningful book.”
He considers it for a moment, then shakes his head again. “Still not me.”
“How about physical touch?”
A grin spreads across his face. “Now that’s more like it. That’s definitely mine.”
I nudge him playfully. “Just so you know, physical touch isn’t only about sex—it means being affectionate in general. Not just a sex partner.”
He shrugs, smirking. “In that case, I’m revising my answer. Definitely not that one, either.”
“All right, how about acts of service? That’s when someone shows love by doing helpful things—running errands, fixing something, or lending a hand when needed.”
He frowns slightly, crossing his arms as he thinks it over. “Hmm, maybe…but it still doesn’t feel like it fits.”
I smile, holding up the final option. “Then I think I’ve got yours: quality time. It’s about being present, without distractions, enjoying time with the people you care about.”
A genuine smile spreads across his face as he nods. “Yeah, that’s me. I love spending time with my family. And,” he pauses, his gaze meeting mine, “I really love spending time with you.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest, and I smile back. “Quality time is my love language too. And I’m really enjoying our time together.”
I draw the next card and glance at it, my smile faltering slightly as I read the question. “Why did your last relationship end?”
He shifts, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. “You go first, if you don’t mind.”
I nod, giving him a small smile. “Sure.”
Taking a deep breath, I let out a soft exhale. “Things went downhill fast when the last guy became obsessed with a self-proclaimed alpha male influencer. You know the type—one of those guys spouting toxic nonsense about how men and women are supposed to act.”
I shake my head, still baffled by the way Hunter was sucked into that insanity.
“At first, it was harmless motivational stuff. But then he started talking like he’d joined a cult, going on and on about how real women should know their place and how I’d be happier if I wasn’t so independent. It was like I was suddenly dating someone who saw me as inferior to him because of my gender.”
I shrug, resigned but resolute. “I gave him a choice: stop the nonsense, or I was gone. He didn’t stop, so I left. No regrets.”
His expression softens, respect in his eyes. “Good on ya. No one should cop that kind of rubbish.”
I tilt my head toward him. “Your turn. Why did your last relationship end?”
He hesitates, his gaze falling to the cards for a moment. “Well, she was a social media influencer obsessed with her following, always posting everything she could think of to keep them engaged. At first, I thought it was a side project for her, something she did for fun, but no.” He pauses, a shadow crossing his face.
“When we started dating, she’d post little things about us—a picture here, a cute caption there. Her followers loved it, and I didn’t mind it so much. But then she realized she could use our relationship to grow her following, and things spiraled. One day, she filmed me without my permission—without me even knowing—and posted it.”
I can see the pain in his eyes as he recalls what happened.
“I won’t go into what the video was about, but it was deeply personal. For her, it was staged. For me, it was my true reaction. The video was one I would never have wanted out there for anyone to see. And she shared it without a second thought for likes and comments.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, a wave of sympathy washing over me. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful. How long ago was it?”
He exhales sharply, glancing down. “It’s been a couple of years. Right before my injury. So not exactly the best year of my life.”
My chest tightens at the gravity of his words. “That really sucks.”
“Yeah,” he says, letting out a short laugh that carries no humor. “It did.”
“ She sucks,” I say softly, sliding the card back into the deck.
After a moment, he clears his throat. “You know, for a game I didn’t expect to like, this isn’t half bad. Keep going—I’m curious to see what’s next.”
I glance at him, his openness sparking a smile of my own. “All right.”
I draw the next card, curiosity mingling with something deeper as I read it. I lift my gaze, giving him a playful look. “This one’s all yours, Mr. looking-for-a-wifey.”
“Hit me with it. I’m ready.”
I grin, reading it aloud. “What does the ideal marriage look like to you?”
He pauses, his expression thoughtful as he considers his words. “For me, an ideal marriage would be a true partnership. Two people who are there for each other no matter what, through the good and the bad. Someone I can count on, who has my back, who I can laugh with and be myself around. No masks. Just real.”
He leans back, his words taking on a gentler edge as he continues. “I think an ideal marriage feels like home. It’s about loyalty and trust, where you don’t just love each other— you know each other, flaws and all. And you still choose each other every day. Supporting each other’s dreams, sticking together even when it’s not easy. A marriage should weather life’s storms and still come out stronger.”
His words settle in my mind, their clarity and sincerity striking something deep within me. The kind of relationship he’s describing feels almost too good to be real—built on trust, loyalty, and a partnership that endures through everything. It’s the kind of connection that would be incredible to have, to know someone that deeply and trust them completely.
“What about you? What’s your version of the perfect marriage?”
The question hits harder than I expect, his vision of marriage so beautiful yet so far from anything I’ve ever known. I take a breath, shifting slightly, trying to untangle my thoughts. “My ideal marriage––” I pause, the words feeling heavier than I thought they would. “Honestly, I don’t really know what a healthy marriage looks like.”
I glance down, shrugging lightly, a twinge of embarrassment creeping in. “I didn’t grow up seeing that. Maybe that’s why I’ve always struggled with the idea of getting married. I don’t have much to base it on.”
I exhale, looking up at him. “But I really like what you just described. I like it a lot actually. More than anything, I want to be with someone who feels like home.” I pause, taking a moment to find the right words. “And if I ever get married, I’d want to be very married . All in, forever.”
“ Very married . I like that.”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, there’s a quiet understanding—something unspoken but deeply shared. I let myself imagine it—the kind of marriage he described, the kind that feels more like a fairy tale than real life. And yet, sitting here with him, it doesn’t feel so unattainable after all.
I shuffle the cards, glancing down at the next one. My eyebrows lift in surprise. “Okay, here’s a fun one. Or at least it’s supposed to be. What’s a humiliating moment you’ve experienced in the past?” I look up with a small smile. “Want to go first?”
He sighs, shaking his head with a wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh, that one’s easy. Without a doubt, it was that video my ex posted of me.”
I reach over and give his hand a quick squeeze. “Well, mine’s not exactly fun, either. Senior year of high school, Robin brought home this guy one night…” I trail off, feeling the familiar wave of embarrassment rise. “Which wasn’t unusual, by the way. Honestly, Robin’s a smoke show and always bringing guys home, so I didn’t think much of it at first. Except this time, it turned out he was my classmate. And not just any classmate—the boy I had a massive crush on.”
His eyes widen, and he winces, already catching on. “ What ?”
“Oh, yes,” I say with a dry, humorless laugh. “And it gets worse. He recorded it and showed it to his friends. Naturally, word spread like wildfire. The next day, a ton of guys came up to me, asking if I fucked as good as my mom did.” I cringe, shaking my head at the memory. “It was mortifying. Even now, I could crawl into a hole thinking about it.”
His jaw tightens, disbelief and anger flashing across his face. “Is that legal in the U.S.?”
“Immoral and humiliating? Absolutely. But illegal? No,” I shrug. “He was eighteen, so they were both consenting adults.”
He watches me, the anger fading into something softer. “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”
“It’s still embarrassing. Bad enough that I skipped my high school reunion—not that I had any desire to see those assholes again.”
I glance at the next card, then up at him with a playful grin. “Another one?”
He shrugs, leaning back with an easy smile. “Why not? Keep going.”
I pull the card and read it aloud, “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
He pauses, his gaze growing thoughtful. “In five years… I’d like to be married. Hopefully with a couple of kids—maybe a third on the way if it’s what my wife wants. Content with life, you know? Just settled and happy.”
The sincerity in his words makes something flutter in my chest, and for a moment, I watch him, absorbing his words before he turns his attention to me. “What about you?”
“It’s hard to say. Maybe I’m married, maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m a mom, maybe I’m not. It’s tough to picture myself five years down the road.”
He studies me. “Would you get married if the right man came into your life?”
“Absolutely. I’m not against marriage, but I’m also not chasing it. If it happens, great. If it doesn’t, that’s okay too. I’m enough as I am on my own.”
“Yes, you are.”
I slide the last card back into the deck. “Okay, I think that’s enough of the heavy stuff for now.”
“Agreed. But I have to admit, I don’t hate this game.”
I glance toward the door, an idea sparking, and turn back to him with a grin. “How spontaneous are you feeling right now?”
“What have you got in mind?”
Instead of answering, I grab his hand and pull him to his feet, leading him outside without hesitation. The rain falls steadily, a cool drizzle that cloaks the world in mist. As we step onto the deck, the fresh, rain-soaked air greets us, and we’re instantly soaked. He laughs, the sound full and unguarded, as I tug him farther into the open.
I lift my arms to the sky, spinning slowly, letting the rain wash over me, its coolness invigorating, wiping everything else away. When I glance back at him, he’s standing there, watching me with that warm, familiar smile, rain dripping down his face.
“Dance with me.” I laugh as I reach for him.
He doesn’t hesitate, his hands sliding around my waist as he pulls me close. His touch is warm against the chill of the rain. We sway together, our movements unhurried, guided by the rhythm of the rain. My laughter blends with his, the world around us fading as we move. His fingers trace gentle circles against my back, and though we’re soaking wet, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but this moment.
For a moment, we pause, our eyes locking in a way that makes the rest of the world melt away. His hand moves to my face, gently brushing a rain-soaked strand of hair from my cheek. Before I can catch my breath, he leans in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that feels as natural as the rain falling around us.
The world fades into a blur of gray, the steady rhythm of the rain our only soundtrack. It’s just the two of us, drenched and completely wrapped up in each other, holding on like nothing else matters, like there’s nowhere else we’d rather be.
He lifts me up in one swift motion and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, holding on to his strong body. He carries me to the dining table and sets me down gently on the cold, wet surface, sending shivers through my body as it touches my skin.
Dressed in only a T-shirt and underwear, my soaked shirt clings to my body, revealing every curve. He carefully pulls down my lacy panties and settles himself between my legs. With a soft stroke, he enters me, and we both let out a primal moan of pure joy. Our bodies meld together, giving ourselves over to the intense pleasure that engulfs us.
Our bodies move in perfect harmony, the union of our souls igniting a fiery passion. In that moment, nothing else exists but us as we give ourselves over to the intense pleasure coursing through our veins. His hands grip tightly on to my hips, pulling me closer as we lose ourselves in each other’s embrace. As he moves inside me, time stands still, and the rest of the world disappears
“You feel so fucking good,” he says, looking down at me.
He pushes my legs, bending them at the knees and spreading them apart. The table groans beneath us as our bodies move together in a flawless rhythm. His strong body presses against mine, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure through me. In this moment, I’m utterly lost in sensation, lost in the feel of him filling me with slow, powerful strokes. Our pace is deliberate and unhurried, drawing out every moment of ecstasy and creating a delicious friction that brings us both to the edge of ecstasy.
He meets my gaze and leans in, pressing his lips against mine. Our foreheads touch as he moves in and out of me at a deliberate pace. “Please don’t stop,” I whisper, knowing that I never want this feeling to end.
His hands press firmly on my hips, keeping me still as he comes inside me. His strength and intensity take me deeper than ever before.
As our bodies merge, his hips come to a halt, and he draws me nearer. His lips, warm and inviting, press against mine. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”
JC leans in, his fingers gently moving my wet hair from my face. Our gazes connect, and suddenly the world seems to narrow to only the two of us. In that moment, I realize something.
I can’t get enough of him either.
What’s going on with me?