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“I’m going to be fine.” Things are going to be close to the wire and now the patchwork is all done with the pipes and the plumber said we could hold off a number of months and also work out a plan, then I won’t lose anything, I can keep everything mine. And this dear old lady won’t have her life in upheaval more than it’s going to be.
Magnus would say no.
“He can’t know about this.”
“I can’t take it.”
I get up. “Tell you what, you think about it and if you truly can’t use it, you let me know. And tear up that check. I’m going to be fine.”
She’s crying and I go over to her and give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Zoey, I can’t…”
“You can. You deserve it.”
And with that, I leave.
Out on the street, I realize that I’m not far from where Magnus lives. It’s only a few blocks. I’ve never been there, never thought of visiting. I happened to remember it from when he wrote it down along with his number just after he started working for me.
Overhead there’s a low rumble of thunder, but the rain that’s been threatening to fall all day hasn’t yet, so I decide to head over to say hi.
I really don’t have an excuse at all. He might not even be there.
But when I press the buzzer, he lets me in.
I climb the two flights of stairs and Magnus is waiting when I get there.
“I don’t know why I came here,” I say.
And then I kiss him.
His arms come around me as he kisses me back and the need and passion build between us.
We don’t say anything as he pulls off my clothes, as I remove his. We just keep kissing and touching each other and he leads me across the small studio to the large bed and he takes me down with him.
This is different. This is soft and sweet and a slow, low burn. It’s need that’s tangled with emotion.
And, as he parts my thighs and pushes into me, he takes me in measured, almost reverent strokes, like he’s savoring every single thrust.
I come up to meet him and I’m swept along on this journey, down into the heated waters that stoke fires and waves and warm me inside out. I could live in this forever, this thing where we’re locked together. Him in me, him part of me. Me part of him.
We make love.
An exploration of each other that gets deeper, sweeter, darker, more tangled with every stroke. I don’t know where he ends and I begin and I don’t want to. All I know is this. All I know is him.
Pleasure builds inside, different from the other times. This is both new and familiar, something that strikes a note I need inside.
I come, shattering in a shower of kisses as Magnus comes too.
And after, we lay there, tangled together.
I slowly drift off in a haze of satisfaction, of being cocooned and held and touched with gentle, loving hands and lips.
And that word, loving, hits me.
I think I might be in love with Magnus Simpson.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Magnus
