“You’re right,” she counters, sighing. “How do I take the power back? Tell me how not to care. I can’t feel like this anymore. It’s sucking away all my happiness.”
“Last night,” I say, raising one brow. “How did you feel?”
She opens her eyes wide as she lets memories trickle back in. “There was no pressure. It was easy. I was free.” She licks her lips. “I wasn’t with you to forget him or get over him. I was merely with you.”
“Because it was casual?” I prod.
She looks away. “Because of you.” Magnolia shakes her head and looks down.
“What? Tell me.”
“You called me your girlfriend in front of Polly and I hoped you meant it. I know how crazy that is given we’d only texted a bit and had dinner, but I wanted it to be true. I’m ready for that. I feel like a different person with you. When you just said it can be different, but just as satisfying I knew exactly what you meant. I felt that. I feel like a dope admitting this to you. I barely know you, you don’t know me other than I’m a mess,” she continues, slurring her words a bit as she moves her hand up and down her body, attempting to highlight the mess she thinks she is. “I know I don’t want Paul.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t know I could want someone like I want you.”
My heart pounds a bit, and it’s the first indication that I might feel something that’s not altruistic—an actual blossoming of an unrecognizable emotion. “You’re not a dope and I know that you’re a brave woman. A strong woman. You’ve lived through a blow that could take a human down.”
She waves around the room. “Is this not me down? Looks bottom feeder status to me. Sobbing into a dusty wine glass, whining to a stranger about my ex-husband.”
I shake my head. “You’re strong when it matters. Everyone reaches a breaking point. I’m not a stranger, Magnolia. I can still taste you. We are far from strangers.”
A blush creeps up her cheeks. “I do feel better now.”
“Because you got it all off your chest?” I ask.
“No. Because you cared enough to stay and listen.”
My throat clogs with emotion. “I’ve taken Paul from you,” I say, clearing my throat halfway through my sentence. “That fucker is owned by Aidan Mixx. You understand?”
“For what price?”
“My manhood,” I counter, grinning. The big one, I know she’ll respond to. Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. Perfection.
“Manhood?” she asks, voice low.
“Will you be my real girlfriend, Magnolia Sager? Not for pretend to get the chicks off my jock, but because I like you. I like that you’re complex—that you tell me what’s on your mind even if it might make me uncomfortable. I like that you put your daughter first. I like that you want magic after being hurt. I like that you’re good.” I shake my head. “I’m not going to let anyone else ruin you. You’re not going to fix me,” I deadpan. “Let me try to fix you and maybe your magic will rub off on me.”
Her full, wet lips open a touch to expose her white teeth. “I’m drunk, but you’re serious right now, aren’t you? This is real life?”
“You’re a cheap date,” I say. “I’m nothing if not serious.”
Magnolia stands from her stool and crooks her finger at me. “I’d sit on your lap right now, but we’d break that chair. It’s a mid-century Bentwood.”
Standing slowly, I let out a deep breath to clear my head and the nervous energy in the air. “You’re so hot when you talk antique to me,” I drawl, stepping closer to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against my body. She’s warm and her reaction to my touch is immediate. Her flesh bristles and her breath catches. “Tell me more,” I rasp, my cock straining against my jeans.
She goes on her tiptoes and presses her lips up to meet mine. I groan when the first taste hits my senses. Relief. Sweet, blissful relief. I’ve craved this in unquantifiable amounts. Her lips smack as she pulls away to say, “One owner. Nice patina. 1940s. Maybe 30s.”
“Fuck yes,” I growl, taking her lips again. I get carried away easily—lifting her body to set her on the desk. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I’m hit with the frantic need to be inside her. There’s a desperation I’ve felt only a couple of times before. Once was when I returned home from a year deployment. A year without sex. It was the longest I’d ever gone, and my brain crossed so many wires I wasn’t sure where to begin when I had a woman in my bed the day after I got back in the states. I had to hold back the urge to go caveman on her and fuck a hole in the mattress. The sex ended with me having a girlfriend. It was as if I’d tricked myself into thinking the sex was something special when really it was my first wet pussy in a long ass time. The woman was a narcissist—an opportunist. I figured it out eventually, but not before I gave a little more than I wanted to.
Right now, with Magnolia, the desperation is in opposition to that relationship. It’s a need to show her that I can fuck Paul away. That I can give her more than he can. I’ll make her crazy. Prove that her ex is a bad memory that isn’t worth being haunted over. I’ll make sure she knows I’m capable of being the man she needs. Does it appeal to my need for a challenge? Yes. It doesn’t change the fact everything I said to her is truth. I do like her. I want her.
“Is this going down right here?” I ask. “The chair is safe, but I might break the desk.” My lips are speaking against her mouth, but she’s watching my eyes. “Where can I make love to you?”
Her breath catches, and her arms slide from around my head to push against my chest. I think I’m being shot down completely until she smirks and takes my hand. “Come with me.”
“I hope to,” I say, letting her guide me out of the room.
