Soaring (Magdalene #2)(101)

“Okay, Mickey,” I whispered.

“Okay,” he replied. “Now come here and give me a kiss.”

I balanced my plate, avoided sweet and sour sauce, and leaned toward him to give him my kiss. He helped by leaning into me and lifting a hand to cup the back of my head.

It was a quick touch but I liked it very much.

I didn’t move very far away before he stated, “Spendin’ the night, Amy.”

“Okay, Mickey,” I repeated my whisper.

He leaned and touched my mouth again, let me go and settled back.

I settled back too, finished my wonton and reached for the soup.

* * * * *

“Mickey,” I breathed and went flying.

He let me.

Then he kissed me as he kept taking me.

I descended but kept gliding as I felt him move inside me. Listened to his noises. Took him in with fingers and mouth. Moved my hips with his increasing rhythm. And helped coax him there until he slid a hand up my forearm, pushing it up over my head, linking his fingers with mine and pressing our hands into the pillow.

He squeezed hard as he thrust deep and groaned loud.

My heart took flight.

I gave that to Mickey too.

How was it that his weight was on me, his body connected to mine, and it felt like I was floating?

I knew he recovered when his hips stopped spasming between mine, he tweaked my nose with the tip of his then took my mouth in a slow, deep, tender kiss.

He ended it, brushing his lips along my jaw, as he gently slid out of me, rolled off but pulled the covers over me before he got out of bed and sauntered naked to my bathroom.

I watched, my first view of his sculpted behind a vision I enjoyed greatly, before I shifted to sitting on the side of the bed. I reached and grabbed his tee from the floor, tugged it on and straightened off the bed, nabbing my panties.

I had them up and was walking to the bathroom as he was walking out.

Mickey, naked in my bedroom, full-frontal view.

He had a great ass, an amazing back.

But his chest and other attributes were better.

He stopped to bend his neck as I stopped and got on tiptoes. My hand was light to his flat stomach as I touched my mouth to his.

He lifted away and I walked into the bathroom going direct to the drawers in my walk-in closet.

I exchanged Mickey’s tee for a short, satin nightie in a dusky rose with deep edges of delicate oyster lace and thin spaghetti straps that crisscrossed at the back.

I walked out holding Mickey’s tee, turned out the lights of the bathroom and walked into the bedroom.

There I saw Mickey Donovan in my bed, under my duvet, on his side, head in his hand, elbow resting in the pillow, long legs partially visible but totally tangled in my sheets, eyes on me. Eyes now telling me he really liked my nightie.

I took him in.

I had that. I’d had that.

That was all for me.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to jump with joy.

Instead, I dropped his tee and joined him in my bed.

He grabbed hold of me the minute I did, shoving his face in my neck, brushing it with his lips, touching it with his tongue, before his hold got tighter and he rolled this way and that, taking me with him to turn out the lights on both nightstands.

He settled us front to front, covered by my duvet, tangled in each other.

He slid the tip of his nose down the bridge of mine before he whispered, “’Night, Amy.”

“Goodnight, Mickey,” I whispered back.

He lifted up, kissed my forehead and settled in to the bed, doing this tightening his arms around me.

I pressed closer and returned the favor.

I didn’t think I’d do it.

Heck, I didn’t want to do it.

I wanted to lie in the dark in my bed with Mickey Donovan and exalt in the feeling.

I did that.

But I did it quickly falling to sleep.

Chapter Sixteen

Open Your Door

My phone on the nightstand clattered as it rang.

I opened sleepy eyes and stared at the light coming from it as I looked at my alarm clock.

It was the night after Mickey and I connected (literally).

It was also the middle of the night.

My heart started racing because a middle of the night phone call could mean anything.

I reached out, grabbed my phone and saw the caller was Mickey.

I took the call and put the phone to my ear. “Everything okay?”

“Open your door, Amy.”

My skin ignited and my body flew into action.

I threw back the covers, jumped out of bed and ran down the hall to the front door. I unlocked it and pulled it open to see Mickey, in his firefighter-not-fighting-a-fire outfit sauntering up my walk toward me.

I waited, my eyes locked to him, his eyes locked to me, the burn building with just a look, and when he was close enough, I jumped him.

He caught me, kissed me, backed me inside, closed the door and locked it, all without taking his mouth from mine.

His tee hit the top step to the sunken living room.

My nightie fell to the first set of steps that led up the hall to my bedroom.

In the morning, I’d find my panties dangling off the arm of the daybed in front of my fireplace.

But we didn’t make it to the bed.

We sunk down on the rug under it and that was where Mickey f*cked me.

When he was done with me, I was too replete to go searching for my nightie. So when he lifted me in his arms, deposited me in my bed, went to the bathroom to deal with the spent condom and came back to me, we slept together naked.