Maggie Moves On(74)

She’d been all set to argue until his last admission. “It was?”

“I’m telling you this while you’re on top and in charge,” he said, giving a teasing thrust.

She loved the way his gaze locked on her breasts, the way his lips parted like he needed to devour her. Maybe part of her needed to be devoured. And maybe part of her wanted to prove him wrong.

“Mmm, you’re getting wet again. Aren’t you, Maggie?” Reaching behind her, he slipped his fingers down the cleft of her behind. She gasped when they skated over the puckered ring of muscle. And felt something like disappointment when they kept going.

“I should get home to Dolly and Taco,” she said, trying to work up the energy to get out of the bed.

Sy’s arm tightened around her. “But Dean and Cody are more than capable of keeping an eye on the little monsters. And Kevin’s there, too.”

“It’s weird and adorable that your dog thinks he’s a cat babysitter.”

“Kevin is a weird and adorable kinda soul,” he agreed. His drawl was sleepy, and it made her feel like curling up next to him and going to sleep might not be the worst thing in the world.

She yawned.

“Now, I’m not saying I’d hold you captive, Mags. But I think you’re making excuses and trying not to get attached. Which doesn’t work for me, seein’ as how I’m inclined to make you get attached.”

“You don’t play fair,” she complained.

“Think about that cot you’ve got waiting for you. That rickety, hard cot. Then there’s the matter of breakfast. If you go home, what’s for breakfast?”

“Dunno. Coffee and a protein bar probably.” She had to go grocery shopping. There was a skinny teenage boy living in the house now. Dammit. She really needed to make things happen with that kitchen.

“I’ve got homemade granola, yogurt, and fresh berries. Not to mention an entire pack of bacon that Kevin hasn’t discovered yet. And my coffee’s pretty fucking great.”

“You make your own granola?” She groaned. “Ugh. It’s like you’re some perfect Instagram model #LivingYourBestLife.” Sometimes the perfection in others was just plain annoying.

He laughed softly. “If you stay here in this big comfy bed with me, I guarantee you’ll like my alarm clock more than your own.”

“Your alarm clock is your penis, isn’t it?” she murmured into the pillow.

“Only one way to find out. Stay with me, Maggie.”

“Why?” she asked. “Besides the five dollars you seem hell-bent on winning from me. Why do you want me to stay?”

“Because I want to wake up with you in my bed. I want to be there when your eyes open. I want the first smile of your day to belong to me. I want to start my day touching you.”

The man was a natural seducer.

And she was just stupid enough to fall for it.

She let out a long breath. “Fine. I’ll stay. But I want a toothbrush. And eggs to go with the yogurt and the bacon. And I don’t want any shit from you when I leave your family cookout tomorrow after an hour and a half so I can catch up on some damn work.”

“Anything you want, Mags. You can have it all.” She could hear his smug smile.

“Why do I feel like I just played into your hands?”

He slid his hands up to cup her breasts. “Because my hands are on you. Besides, you’re looking at it all wrong. You don’t lose by staying the night.”

“Let me text Dean so he and Cody don’t think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere,” she said.

“How about you text Dean while I go get us some tall waters?” Silas suggested. “Then we can grab a shower.”

“Throw in a snack, and you’ve got a deal.”

Once he left, she found her phone on the floor, half under the nightstand.

Maggie: I’m spending the night at Sy’s. I’ll be home in the morning. If you’re a good boy I’ll bring you and Cody fancy coffees.

Dean: We’ll take two venti lattes with caramel drizzle.

Maggie: Are you ordering two drinks for yourself?

Dean: I’m educating our young friend on good coffee. When he turns 21 you can educate him on alcohol that doesn’t come in a plastic bottle.

Dean: Also, did you make Sly Sy turn his hat backward in bed?

Maggie: Shut up weirdo. You and Michael seemed awfully cozy tonight.

Dean: I asked him to dance. He shot me down.

Maggie: Maybe you dazzled him too much?

Dean: Or maybe my gaydar is broken. Or maybe he saw my gray hair and crow’s-feet and I scared him straight.

Maggie: Want me to ask Silas?

Dean: DO NOT ASK HOT SILAS ABOUT MY CROW’S-FEET! Or his brother. You bask in the afterglow while I binge-watch BBC murder mysteries and drink age-reversing green juice. PS You need a fucking TV and a couch in this mausoleum.

She sighed and wished there was something she could do for Dean. But everyone had their journey. And it was better to fix things on your own than to accept meddling.

Maggie: Okay fine. Get some sleep so you’re well rested and can charm the pants off everyone in his family at the cookout.

“Everything okay?” Silas asked, returning with two tall glasses of water and—sweetly—a stack of peanut butter crackers.