Chapter Fifteen
Magnus
I should regret this, but I’ve had just enough to drink and the need for her is too strong, that I don’t.
We’re both naked and she’s utterly glorious. If this is going to be it, I’m going to make it last.
I’m not being myself. Well, actually, I’m being more myself with her than I have been. I wanted something and I went for it. And that something was Zoey.
“You have beautiful breasts,” I say. “They’re the perfect size. They fit my hand.”
I palm one and lean down, sliding my leg up to hold her thigh down on the bed, keeping her open for me. And then I suck on her other nipple, making her back arch and push her breast to me. I take that invitation.
Biting softly, just enough to make her moan and shift and try and lift up her hips, I move to the other, giving it the exact same treatment. “See?”
Her eyes are half closed, languid, and she watches me. “I think you’re drunk.”
“Tipsy, but I’ve been thinking about your breasts since right after I met you.”
“You have not.”
“I have. I try and keep it professional. Bookstore professional.”
That elicits a small laugh from her. “You’re different tonight.”
“Bad or good?”
“I like it, but this…”
I kiss her softly, stopping her words. “This is tonight, Zoey. The world can wait.”
I am being different. I’m being me. More me than I think I’ve been in a while. Because right now I’m not playing games. I’m diving into the moment with her, something I don’t do. Or, something I don’t do like this.
Not reckless, not with someone as soft and lovely like her.
Not with someone I’m going to—
I don’t let myself finish that thought. Instead, I continue my exploration of her. And I slide my hand low, down over her ribs, over the soft swell of her tummy, and then down, through the strip of short curls to that hot, glistening prize there.
I’m rewarded with her gasp as I tease her clit, then lower, along those lips, and down and into the hot, tight depths of her with my fingers.
She’s moaning now and the sound of her voice when she’s turned on should be bottled and sold. It’s glorious and hot as hell.
“Magnus! Oh, God, you’re going to make me come again.”
I smile and start to finger her slowly, in and out, keeping a steady stroke against her clit until she starts to ride the wave, until she begins to tighten, her thighs trying to bear down together.
But I don’t let her. I just keep up my slow rhythm and I watch her.
She still watches me back, but this time she gasps, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, and she slides her hand down my face.
I curl my fingers inside her, and begin to hit her G-spot.
She loses it, and comes on my hand, thrashing in the bed, gasping for air.
Watching Zoey orgasm is a sight to behold. I’m hard as fuck because it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.
She’s gasping, muttering nonsense words as I hit that spot again, massaging until she’s hit with a bigger, harder wave. And she pushes at me, then pulls me down on her and I kiss her and kiss her. It’s like I can’t get enough of her delicious mouth, those kisses.
I take my hand slowly from her body, but she wraps around me, still kissing, and I can’t stop either.
And then my sweet little Zoey does something incredible.
She pushes me hard. Down onto the bed on my back and she rises up over me. At first I think she’s going to fuck me and I’m all for it. This is a night of passion for passion’s sake. Something I started, right or wrong, and if she wants to ride me, I’m going to let her.
But she doesn’t. Instead she slides down my body. Zoey touches, kisses, explores, and then she comes to my cock.
And she takes me in her mouth.
Oh, holy fuck.
I nearly bust one from her mouth on me. Her hot, greedy, sucking mouth. She licks and sucks, up to the head, her tongue running under the sensitive edge and I bury my fingers in her hair. And then she swallows me down. So deep she gags. And she does it all over again. Again and again, all the time her hand working my shaft and balls and I can’t help it, I start to pull her from me and push her down instead. Not hard, but enough to let her know what I want and she goes willingly.
She works me like she’s going for gold. And I fucking come in her mouth.
My entire body is flooded with pleasure and then I pull her off me up and into my arms and I smooth her hair back. “You’re a fucking wonder, Zoey Smith.”
I kiss her. Long and slow and deep.
And then, we start everything all over again.
There’s a haze over me when I wake. Zoey is splayed over me, sleeping, and she makes little sighing noises as her hand curls against my chest.
I slept with her.
Not just the act of sex, but I fell asleep.
It’s not I haven’t gone and done that before. A good, hard, tension releasing fuck at the end of a grueling day or week or whatever happens to go on, can sometimes bring about enough relaxation I fall asleep. But I never spend the night. Not unless it’s a night designed for hard core sex that keeps us back at it until the day breaks.
And hell yes, I could do that with Zoey, just keeping fucking her. But sleeping with her?
I could do that, too.
I did.
And the haze is from the sex and from sleep and her. Maybe it’s been a while I’ve just fallen so deeply asleep. I don’t know. Outside, the day is gray again, and soft rain patters down. I can see the ugly building tops, old signs from decades ago of businesses that no longer exist, faded and chipped old paint. But somehow it doesn’t bother me as much as it normally does.
That kind of ugly doesn’t fit my aesthetic for what I want to craft in my areas of New York, but framed with simple cream gauze curtains, and a walnut wood-slatted set of blinds that match the frame of Zoey’s wide bed, and wide planked floorboards she must have once spent days sanding, staining and polishing, it has a softer, more romantic look. A framed photo of life.
Zoey stirs, and looks up through a curtain of tangled black curls, those violet eyes soft. “You’re still here.”
“It’s hard to do the sneak of shame when you’re being used as a pillow.”
“Shame, huh?” She bites her lip and pokes me in the abs. “You’re very…pillow-like.”
I laugh, pushing away all thoughts except for her and here and my hardening cock. Flipping her, so she’s under me, I nudge her thighs apart and she sighs.
Christ, I think I could spend forever with her.
The thought sits, and I poke at it, turning it to fit. This is how I need to be with her, to win her. I smooth the hair from her face, trying to make my brain get back to the mission at hand.
In a different world, maybe I’d wish for things I never think about. Maybe I’d wish for a chance to get to know Zoey as me. Or rather, have Zoey know me. But Zoey and Edward Magnus Sinclair would never mix, never be a thing.
I’ve no place for her world and she…Zoey wouldn’t ever want me as part of hers.
But that’s nothing but good sex and libido talking.
I don’t have space for relationships of the kind Zoey would want in my life. And I like that. What she wants takes a different man. One way less self-focused than me. One with fewer ambitions.
Mission, I remind myself. I need to keep my eye on my purpose here.
“This is just for now, Magnus,” she says softly, almost like she can read my mind.
“Is it?”
She nods, moving her hips up, like an unconscious offer of her delicious wares to me. “You don’t talk much about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
She sighs and moves again and I thrust against her because I can, because it turns her on, because I want to. “That’s not why…I just…my life isn’t yours, and my life is complicated right now. My energy is focused on keeping the store running, fighting off that billionaire bully…”
“Well…there’s a thing called multitasking. Are you worried I’ll up and leave?”
“I know you’ll go back to your old life.”
“That doesn’t preclude you and me.” What the actual fuck am I saying? The words come of their own free will. “I’m thirty-four. There’s gran and making sure she’s taken care of, and maybe one day I’ll go back to my old career or maybe not. There are things I can do. It’s a big world.”
“And it’s not all about money.”
She’s so wrong. “My life’s boring. Or was.”
“How so?”
“I got a job in a shop and got the hots for the quirky, pretty lady who owns it.”
I slide my hand down along her hip, shifting her so my cock is right there, pushing at her entrance and she bites her lip. But I don’t enter her.
I’m not sure who I’m torturing.
“Magnus…” She gasps, rocking up against me, but I hold her in place, a tease.
And I kiss the end of her nose, then her soft, plump lips and raise my head, staring into her eyes. “Things, Zoey, sometimes can just be.”
And then I push into her, and I’m lost in her all over again.
That day, after we finally get out of bed and I coax her into the shower with me, which leads to some very hot fun. We get dressed and Zoey tries to teach me to cook, something which I thought would bore the pants off me, but with her there, guiding me, I liked it.
We eat pasta together, and everything feels so damn natural. Hand in glove is the expression. Everything fits.
She tells me how her dad left when she was young, her mom died of cancer at a too-young age, and her grandparents were there through it all. She wasn’t a child when her mom died, she was in college, but the sadness is something that I didn’t expect to affect me. The quiet dignity, and her acceptance. The way she shows it, but doesn’t twist it into a crutch. It just all is.
Soft blues play in her little cozy living room. The furniture is lived in, old and unfashionable by any decorator’s standard, but the plaid armchair and floral sofa and eclectic art on the walls suit her, and it creates that feeling of home. I can see the place was filled with love over the years.
And I’m almost disgusted with myself.
Zoey looks at me over the top of her hot chocolate. “You seem different.”
“I do?” I keep my face and voice light and neutral.
She nods. “There have been little peeks here and there of other layers of you, but…last night was like I saw you.”
“I needed a job, Zoey,” I say, knowing I slipped up. I try and regret it, but I can’t. “I was on my best behavior.”
Leaning forward on the sofa, she smiles and takes a sip of the hot chocolate. “I think I like you more. As long as this is you.”
A strange pang hits me, but I nod. “It is.”
It’s not until dark shadows start to stretch that it occurs I’ve been there all day, just hanging out with her. And I like it.
I don’t know what the fuck that even means.
A message lights up my phone as I’m getting ready to leave. I have a fake gran to take care of, and actual business to do. With the time moving closer to having to prove I have heart, I have things to do. And I need to work on this.
The longer the Zoey thing goes, on, the longer she holds out, I mean, the more money I lose.
“I have to go.”
“Your gran?”
“Yeah.” My phone lights up again. I have someone I need to meet, so it’s an easy enough lie. “I’ll see you at work, Zoey.”
I go to head down the stairs when she speaks. “This thing with you and me…” Her violet eyes are big as she looks at me.
“One day at a time, right?” I say.
“Right.”
My dinner date turns into drinks. Michaela Emmerton is dressed for sex and seduction. It doesn’t take any type of genius to work that out.
She’s gorgeous, rich, and ruthless. My type.
So putting aside the night and day spent with Zoey, I can’t quite work out why I’m not interested.
She’s in town from the UK and I know her unspoken offer is, as always on the table. We’ve hooked up in the past and it’s been hot. And now…
In this upscale bar on the Upper East Side, I’m interested in business but nothing else. Michaela leans in, tracing a long-nailed finger along a vein in my hand.
“Magnus?”
She’s been talking to me, and I sip my tequila that’s so smooth and smoky it might be mistaken as single malt by an untutored tongue, but the agave gives it that extra level. I stare into my heavy-based glass, then at her. “Distracted. Sorry.”
“I was suggesting we take this meeting to my suite.” She raises a brow. “Or not.”
“Here is good for now. I’ve got a heavy week.”
And she strokes a finger on my throat. “And someone on your mind?”
Fuck… I pull her hand away, and am about to get back onto the investment and donation at hand when something grabs my attention.
I glance up, and there, across the other side of the curved open bar is Suzanna.
Zoey’s friend.
Something heavy slams like a lead wrecking ball into my stomach.
Shit…meet fan.