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She just kissed him.

His hand stayed on her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek as they stood in the entryway of her shop, his soft, closed mouth pressed to hers, and Maggie’s stomach tumbled all the way to the floor. She let out a sound, involuntarily, and Theo cracked. He licked at her mouth; she opened for him. He slid his hands around her waist, holding her steady; she stayed still. Their breathing grew heavy and loud, and the dam Maggie had been holding against her desire crumbled into ruin. Her want for him was a living thing, and it was starving.

He shuffled them forward, his arms around her waist now, and Maggie’s mind dissolved into muddy water, dripping out of her ears. The kiss had grown into its own animal, their teeth clanking, and when his tongue slid into her mouth she whimpered, pushing him back until he bumped the door. He lifted his hands from her waist, cupped her face, and gave her control.

Her knees weakened with every thrust of his tongue against hers, and he dropped his hand again to support her, hoisting her leg up against his thigh and spinning them around to press her against the door, lifting her to accommodate his height. He left her mouth and kissed his way down her chin, her jawline, her throat, leaving wet heat in his wake.

“Christ,” he swore softly, dropping the hand holding her leg. He bent and firmly grabbed her bottom and hip to lift her fully against him, Maggie untangling her mess of skirts to free her legs. She wrapped them around his waist, and the sound he made wasn’t right, it wasn’t a fair or pure sound, and it was turning her blood into liquid fire. Magma, she thought in the back of her mind, faintly. Magma was filling her, burning her as thoroughly and quickly as if she had jumped into a lake of it. She laced her hands into Theo’s hair and dragged his mouth back to hers, biting at his lips. Her hips jerked into his entirely of their own accord. He made that sound again, and she drew a breath so sharp that he paused. He rested his head on her shoulder, breathing hard, and she moaned at the feel of his erection pressing into her abdomen. She kept her hands in his hair, gentle now, softly scraping her fingernails over his scalp. He shuddered. “Maggie.”

She sighed.

“Maggie, I’m not going to fuck you against a door. Not the first time.” A delicious, wicked shiver ran through her entire body. Not the first time. More times, then. Endless, limitless times. She nearly purred, tilting her hips into his again. He moaned softly, grinding into her, and she licked his neck.

“Jesus,” Theo muttered, panting. “Jesus, fuck, tell me what to do. Please, Maggie.”

Maggie could hardly think for herself at the moment, much less carry the burden of someone else’s decision. Instead of talking, she dragged his hand from her hip and cupped her breast with it, squeezing hard until Theo took over, her stiffened nipple pressing against his palm. His mouth remained latched to the side of her neck, teeth gently clamped while his tongue stroked her over and over.

“Mouth,” she ground out, startled by how breathless she was. “Use your mouth.” He obeyed immediately, dropping his head to her collarbone. She ripped at the buttons on her bodice, desperate for his mouth on her bare skin, ignoring the sound of them popping off the fabric and scattering across the floor. Theo took over, freeing one hand to yank down the chemise and gently—how was he so gentle in this frenzied storm?—pulling her right breast out. He ran his thumb over it reverently, moaning as her nipple tightened into a hard bud. He plumped it with his hand, then descended: the first pass of his tongue on her sent a thin bolt of lightning from her breast to her groin, and she writhed against the door, ignoring the jab of the handle digging into her side. Theo closed his lips around her nipple and tugged. “Theo,” she gasped, arching up into him. He didn’t reply, continuing to suck, pausing to lave the pale skin above, the heavy underside below. Maggie was growing desperate, slick with need, grinding her hips against Theo’s in time with his mouth’s movements.

His wishes were going to be denied, in a moment, in regard to their first time being against the door.

“Maggie?” Tom’s voice cut through the darkness, a bucket of ice water on a flame. Theo stilled; Maggie drew a deep breath.

“Yes, Tom?”

“Is everything all right out there?” He was upstairs, his voice muffled. There was no way he could see them, but she hurriedly put herself to rights as much as possible, Theo withdrawing to help with her bodice. He winced when he saw the dangling threads from the sacrificed buttons. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed. His lips were dark pink and swollen. She leaned forward and kissed him quickly. “I’m fine, that was just Mr. Barrow stopping by to thank us for helping with the baby.”

“Oh. Well, Bridgers and I are making some tea, if you want some.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be up in a minute.”

The sound of the door upstairs thudding shut had Theo finally relaxing, resting his head on the door behind her. She ran her hands along his back, a soothing up and down until his breathing slowed.

He raised his head and rested his brow against hers, rubbing circles on her sides with his thumbs. “Someday very soon, Magdalene Cruthers, I am going to have you in my bed, and I am going to cover every inch of you with my mouth.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you know what I’ll do after that?”

Maggie nearly moaned as she shook her head dully.

Theo tucked his face to the soft skin of her neck, nipping at it before he gently sucked it into his mouth. Raising his head, he nuzzled her ear. “Anything you want.” He pressed a firm kiss to her temple and slipped behind her, opening the door and sliding out.

“Did your parents like Sarah?” Maggie asked. Lou had been quiet all day, working on Mrs. Rinsey’s brocade-riddled abomination, bent over at an uncomfortable-looking angle. Her upper back curved and her head was ducked down, hiding.

Lou didn’t look up. “What a strange question.” She stabbed thick thread into the border of the bodice’s collar. “Why do you ask?”

“Morbid curiosity,” Maggie replied. She was hunched over the desk in the corner, trying to make heads or tails of the notes Bridgers had left in the accounting notebook. “They seem like interesting people.” She left out the details. How awful they were, how they appeared to lack the sharp wit of Lou, the easy warmth of David, the cautious scrutiny of Jake. How they lacked any semblance of Theo—his stern kindness, his unrelenting generosity. Her face warmed.

“They liked her more than the rest of us,” Lou said shortly, cutting the thread. “It’s a theme.”

Maggie broke from the papers. “Oh?”

“Certainly. They adore Laura.”

Maggie couldn’t help it: she laughed. Lou glanced at her, amused. “They do. Always have.”

“But they’re so … I don’t know them, but they seem so reserved, and Laura is …” she gestured around.

“Vibrant? Yes, they like it.” Lou returned her attention to her task. “I think they just dislike anything spawned from them.” Her sewing took on short, precise stabs. “Sarah was like Laura. Very bright.” She shot Maggie a wary look. “Are you all right hearing about it?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Maggie’s heart released one loud, strong thump. “Why wouldn’t I be?”