The Summer of Sunshine and Margot(105)

Declan swore. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m nervous. I talk when I’m nervous. I’m still touching myself and getting closer and closer, but I’m nervous.”

“Are you going to come?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“I’m a guy, Sunshine. My orgasm is the result of friction and fantasy.”

“Am I your fantasy?”

“You have no idea how much.”

“Good. You’re mine.”

He inhaled sharply. “Tell me what you’re doing. Describe it.”

“I’m using two fingers.” She closed her eyes to think about what she was doing. “Apparently I go clockwise. I never knew that.”

“Hard or soft?”

“Hard. Harder than you could do it because you’d be scared of hurting me, but I like it hard.”

“I could work on that,” he said, his voice slightly strangled. “You there yet?”

“I’m there.”

She was. The heat and need had grown until her coming was inevitable. She could hold back, she could change course, but there was a climax in her future.

“Want to come together?” he asked.

They were asking each other to trust, she thought, dipping her fingers inside again before returning to the pressing, circling movement. One of them could stop and the other would always be vulnerable. They were throwing themselves out into the darkness and asking to be caught.

“I do,” she murmured. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

She rubbed harder and faster until she was panting with need.

“Now,” she breathed and threw herself over the edge. Her body surrendered and she called out his name, wishing he were with her, wishing he could hold her and feel what he’d done to her.

She surfaced in time to hear him groaning out his release. The sound made her smile. So they’d caught each other, she thought happily.

“I need a second,” he said.

When he picked up the phone again, she laughed. “Did we forget our box of tissues?”

“We did.”

“Female orgasm is much tidier.”

“Your gender has many advantages. You okay?”

“I am. You?”

“I’m great.” He chuckled. “The truth is, that was the best sex I’ve ever had and you weren’t even here. What does that say about the state of things?”

She smiled. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to discuss it when you get home.”

“I look forward to that.” He yawned. “Sorry.”

“No. It’s late there and you have to talk about ants in the morning. Go to bed. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Okay. Thank you, Sunshine. That was amazing.”

“It was. Good night.”

“’Night.”

They both hung up. She was still smiling when she fell asleep.



Chapter Twenty-Six


Margot told herself that the fact that she hadn’t seen Alec in a couple of days didn’t mean anything. He was busy, she was busy... Still, she worried. He hadn’t once knocked on her door to invite her to join him for anything. Not a drink or conversation or sex. As far as she could tell, he was barely around. While she knew he was probably wrestling with what had happened with Dietrich a couple of days ago, the longer they went without talking, the more she was concerned.

They had to talk. What he’d done had been so amazing and wonderful. Surely he knew that. He had to see that how he’d come to her defense was the stuff of dreams. If she hadn’t already been in love with him—something she wasn’t really admitting to anyone but herself just yet—that single act would have pushed her over the edge. Only she was terrified he wouldn’t see it that way. Given who he was, his past, his mother and pretty much everything else in his life, she was concerned he would find a way to turn his heroic act into something bad.

This morning, she promised herself as she went downstairs. If he wasn’t at breakfast, she would find him and insist they talk it out. What they had was practically perfect and she wasn’t going to lose it. Not when they’d barely found each other.

She walked purposefully into the dining room. She expected his chair to be empty. She thought she would have to confront him in his office or bathroom or wherever else he might be. Only Alec was where, until two days ago, he had always been. In his seat, reading the newspaper. Everything was exactly as it had always been, she thought in relief. Only then she saw it wasn’t at all.

There was no place setting for her. No neat napkin, no knife and fork, no coffee cup or juice glass. Instead, there was a tray—as if she was expected, once again, to take her meals in her room. As if their time together had never happened.

Alec put down his paper and cleared his throat. She looked at him, saw the careful blankness of his expression, recognized the firm set of his jaw and knew that whatever they’d had, it was now lost. He was done. There was only the horrible, painfully awkward, heartbreaking goodbye.

“I hope you can understand that this has been a mistake,” he began. “All of it. While on the surface we were a good match, in truth I have no room in my life for someone like you.” He frowned. “Not you, exactly. For a relationship.”