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The stab of anxiety she had felt evaporated. She spread her legs, nuzzling him back, and reached down between them. Theo dropped kisses onto her shoulders, her neck, anywhere his mouth could reach, gentle but firm. Maggie drew him into her hand, surprised by how foreign he felt; her previous experience had not involved much of anything from her aside from laying back and not having a particularly good time. He was warm and hard, heavy in her hand, and she swept her thumb over the head, spreading some of the moisture from the tip around. He buried his face into her shoulder, groaning. She almost laughed, and whispered an apology, flushing up her chest and neck.

Theo watched, his shaggy hair brushing her chest, as she drew his cock up to where she was wet and empty. The first push hesitated, her body adjusting to him, and he buried his face in her hair, breathing hard. She nudged her hips up, trying to take more of him, and let out a slow breath when he withdrew and thrust again, slow and deep. The whimper she released was unintentional and somewhat mortifying, but it made him laugh in a loose, breathy way, so she couldn’t regret it. His rhythm was measured and easy, his mouth dropping kisses along her hairline, across her cheeks.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice tense, “when I push in, lift your—yes, like that. God.” His eyes were screwed shut and his breathing ragged. “God, that’s so good.”

She did as he asked, lifting her hips to meet him, and he pressed his face into her neck, exhaling harshly. “Maggie, I swear.” His teeth closed around the skin of her neck gently and he thrust deeper with every movement, gliding along inside her. And although she had no ambition to climax again, she felt it building deep when his movements grew arrhythmic and unsteady. He was babbling softly, words she could barely catch—yes and more and good and tight—while he grew harder and bigger within her, and she felt herself tripping over the edge again, tightening around him so hard she let out a sob.

Theo swore, choking, and pulled out; one stroke of his fist and he was coming on her stomach, exactly where his hand had held her down earlier. It took longer than she thought it would, his hand working at himself hard at first, then slowing, until he was spent. He stared at the wet spot, then looked up at her. Maggie had no idea what her face was conveying, but if it even slightly resembled the awed reverence on Theo’s, she was in much more danger than she had thought.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, and she slowly crept her hand up to cradle the back of it, sinking her fingers into his hair. He breathed out slowly, nestling in, and she licked her lips. “Theo.”

“I know.” He spoke into her skin, slowly letting himself drop beside her. “I wasn’t—” He drew a deep breath. “I wasn’t the first?”

It took her a moment to understand. “No,” she said. “No, there was one other. We were …” She stared up at the ceiling, golden in the setting sunlight. “Young.”

He nodded, resting his head on the pillow next to her. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“I don’t think you could hurt me if you tried,” she replied lightly, but she knew that was a lie; Theo could hurt her as easily as breathing. One unkind word and she would be flayed alive, left for the crows to pick at.

He smiled, but it looked fragile. “I care about you a great deal, Magdalene.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Theodore.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I hate to ruin this moment, but I really am quite famished.”

His grin turned lazy and arrogant. “Worn out, are you?”

Maggie rolled her eyes, sitting up in the bed. Theo’s gaze lingered on her breasts and he reached up to trace one, his thumb brushing over her nipple. “You’re a villain,” she said, wiggling away. “I need sustenance.” She swatted his chest.

“Anything my lady requires,” he said, yawning. “Maggie?”

“Hmm?” Locating a rag near his wash basin, she dabbed at herself, then pulled her clothing back on, piece by agonizing piece. Perhaps she would design some sort of one-piece dress she could slither into in less than five minutes. She filed the idea away to present to Bridgers later.

“Why did you leave?”

“Leave what?” Were the buttons on her bodice always this tiny? Impossible.

“The séances. Why did you leave spiritualism? You must have been good at it.”

Oddly, the familiar panic did not flare up, but neither did a desire to explain. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Oh.” He slid out of bed, shoulders slumped, and tugged his trousers back on without turning to face her. “Sorry.”

“Not now, I mean. I’ll tell you but—” She thought of Bridgers, sitting alone in the apartment. Of Tom’s exasperated face, of the orders piling up with not enough hands to fulfill them, and exhaustion flooded her veins. “Just not now. Please.”

Theo, with his evidently infinite well of patience, just leaned over to press a kiss to her mouth. “Anytime,” he said. “Anytime you’re ready.”

Chapter

Twenty-Two

The signatures on the new lease had barely dried when Jake let out a whoop and popped the cork on a bottle of sparkling pear cider; he was training later in the afternoon and had refused any alcohol. He poured everyone a small cup and raised his in the air, grinning. “To bigger and better things,” he said, gulping his cider down and releasing a rather startling burp.

The Engelsens saluted with theirs. “L’chaim.” They also drained their glasses—slowly, much more polite—and left immediately, citing a need to get the space ready as soon as possible.

Lou also excused herself, pecking each of her brothers on the cheek before sliding out to return to the modiste to “work on her boning.” That had the potential for a really effective joke, Theo was certain, but he was a respected member of the community and someone’s father, so he let it go.

David unfolded himself from his chair and clapped Theo on the back. “I suppose I’m off, as well. Laura invited the Thursons over for dinner, and I need to stop by Hardy’s for some things.” With a cheery wave, he was gone.

“Well,” Jake said. He was leaning against the desk in the office, his arms crossed, and it struck Theo just how big his baby brother had gotten. He had always been the tallest of the three brothers, and the boxing had broadened his shoulders and thickened his arms; he had gone from impressively large to borderline intimidating.