Page 34 of Weather the Storm
Chapter Seventeen
SIMON
“H-how?” Magnolia asks, looking up at me with wide eyes.
“What do you meanhow?”
Magnolia looks down at her unpolished nails, staring at them like they’re the most interesting thing in the universe. “I mean, w-wouldn’t you rather be with s-someone who can g-give you children?”
I tip her chin up so her eyes are on mine. “I loveyou, not what you can give me, not what you can or can’t do for me. I love who you are—your strength, your kindness, your thoughtfulness, your humor, your sass—when you let it show—but most of all, I love your heart. You’re so fucking magnificent, Magnolia, and you don’t even see it. You’re good and pure and honest, and that’s so rare. If I have any say at all, I’m never letting you go.”
“Promise?” She utters the word, breathy and low, her body leaning toward me as if my answer is the most important thing she’ll ever hear.
“Promise.”
Magnolia launches herself at me, kissing me all over—my face, my chest, everywhere. “Slow down, pretty girl. We have time.”
“I’m just s-so happy, Simon.”
“I am too, believe me, but we need to get ready at some point so we can go down and talk to Mateo about your car.”
She deflates a little at the mention of it. Luckily, I know just the way to perk her back up. “Let’s get showered?”
“T-together?” she asks, her cheeks going rosy.
“I was hopin’.” I keep my tone light, not wanting her to feel pressured.
Wordlessly, Magnolia rises from the bed and drags the shirt she’s wearing over her head, dropping it at her feet.
“Swear to God, Goldilocks, I’ll never get tired of lookin’ at you.”
She bites her lip, though not because she’s nervous. Nah, my girl’s turned the hell on, and I very much intend to do something about it.
I scoot to the edge of the bed and pull her toward me so she’s standing between my legs. I place a kiss to her right hip, and then to her left, my eyes never leaving hers. Magnolia sighs in pleasure at the contact. I skim my nose across the expanse of smooth, tan skin between her hips until I’m just below her belly button. I press an open-mouthed kiss to her soft yet toned stomach, nipping lightly as I pull away.
“C’mon, let’s go get dirty so we can get clean.” I say the words as a joke, but when I look back up at Magnolia, her eyes are glazed over with want and need.
Grabbing her hand, I guide her to the shower. Once the water feels just right, I help her over the ledge of the tub, climbing in right behind her. Under the spray of the hot water, I make good on my promise of getting us dirty, using my hands and my mouth to make her feel so damn good, her bones feel like jelly.
Even though she’s spent, my girl offers to return the favor, but I decline. It’s not because I don’t want her, because shit, I do. Rather, I want her to know she’s worth more to me than her body. I want her to know she always comes first, literally and figuratively.
§
Thirty minutes later, we’re both clean, dressed, and ready to head over to Mateo’s shop. Magnolia’s fairly quiet on the ride over, and I can only assume she’s reflecting on everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours—and Jesus, has it been a lot.
I slide my hand that’s not holding the steering wheel over to her and take her hand in mine. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” I say to her, hoping she believes me.
“Okay, Simon,” she whispers back, as if she’s not quite sure. Can’t say I blame her, especially with the thought of her shit-stain of a husband possibly being in town.
Speaking of him, that’s one more thing we need to deal with, but I don’t want to overwhelm her; one thing at a time—for now, at least.
When we turn into the parking lot, Mateo and his brother, Arrón, are both outside waiting for us. I press a quick kiss to Magnolia’s lips before shutting off the engine and exiting the truck. I rush around to the other side to help her down, pleased as hell she actually waited for me to do so.
Magnolia looks a little nervous as she checks out the two men over my shoulder, and I can see why she’d be a bit intimidated. Mateo and his brother are both big, imposing men. Mateo stands at just under six feet tall, and Arrón is maybe an inch shorter. They both have skin the color of rich toffee and jet-black hair. Arrón looks especially intimidating with his black monochromatic full-sleeve tattoos that creep right out of his collar and up his neck.
“Hello there,buenas tardes,” Mateo calls out, his warm, friendly tone immediately setting Magnolia at ease.
“Hey there,” I say to the brothers. “Always good to see y’all, though I gotta say, I’m not loving the circumstances.”
