Soaring (Magdalene #2)(99)

He heard it. He read it.

He knew he’d wrecked me.

I knew he did when his body started shaking and a low satisfied chuckle vibrated up his chest, but he did this moving back. He held me to him as he shifted in a variety of ways and I would know what he was doing when he slid me off his cock, laid me down in bed and touched his mouth to the base of my throat before he murmured there, “I’ll be back.” He rolled away and twitched the covers he’d yanked from under us over me.

I stared at my ceiling a moment before I turned to my side, languorously stretched, then curled into myself, pulling the covers up to my shoulder.

Mickey came back from my bathroom in nothing but his jeans, his eyes on me.

I kept my eyes on him too, delighted I was not wrong.

That body was hard everywhere.

And utterly fascinating.

I was in the throes of memorizing the definition of his collarbone as he sat on the edge of the bed.

I didn’t move, just shifted my gaze to look up at him.

He grinned at me as he brushed my bangs out of my eyes and slid the hair away from my cheek and over my shoulder.

“Been a while?” he asked gently.

If he hadn’t just wrecked me, I might find this question annoying.

Since he had and the answer was obvious considering I’d gone wild and come two times (maybe three), I just said, “Yeah.”

His grin remained as he bent to me, putting his weight into both forearms on the mattress in front of me and his face close to mine.

“Omelet on the counter, I take it you didn’t have dinner,” he remarked.

“Nope,” I answered.

“You like Chinese?’ he asked.

“Yep,” I answered.

His grinning eyes moved over my face as a breathtaking mix of tenderness and amusement slid into them, something else I gave him even as he was giving it to me.

“I’ll order delivery,” he declared.

“Crab cheese wonton and hot and sour soup,” I ordered instantly. “Surprise me with the meal.”

His gaze stopped wandering, he looked right at me and said, “You do know this means we’ll have to be irresponsible and insensitive to the starving nations of the world by throwing away that omelet. Eggs don’t keep.”

I had enough in me to narrow my eyes. “Don’t piss me off, Mickey.”

He pushed closer and dropped his voice low. “Think doin’ that’s workin’ for me, baby.”

Too sated to rise to the bait, I rolled my eyes.

“We’ll talk while we eat,” he went on after I rolled them back.

I held his gaze and whispered, “Yeah, honey, that’d be good.”

He pushed even closer and kissed me lightly.

Then he moved away and, not moving a muscle, only my eyes, I watched him bend down and snatch up his shirt. I also watched him tug it on as he sauntered out of my bedroom and into the hall.

He even made tugging on a dirty tee look sexy.

I sighed.

Then I snuggled deeper into my bed, thinking that had actually gone quite well.

Mickey was no longer seeing Bridget.

Auspiciously, at this early juncture, he expected exclusivity from me and intended to give the same.

The fact he didn’t text me since the morning of the day before was a simple mistake.

He was insanely phenomenal in bed.

And he liked Chinese.

Yes, that had gone quite well.

So well, naked and alone in my bed while Mickey was off ordering Chinese, I started smiling.

* * * * *

After ordering, Mickey came back to me and told me he was going over to his place to shower and get out of his dusty clothes.

He then sat at the edge of the bed again, but lifted me in his arms this time, kissing me thoroughly before he ended it, kissed my nose, placed me back in bed, got up and walked away.

I was wrecked but I’d just had sex with Mickey. We were going to have dinner together, alone at my house.

And I didn’t care what I was going to do was going to say.

I wasn’t wasting this opportunity.

So the minute I heard the front door close, I threw back the covers and launched myself out of bed.

I put on new undies—ecru, lacy, sexy—and a pair of loose-fitting yoga pants (that Josie disapproved of me buying, looking at them with revulsion and stating she feared yoga pants were heralding the death of fashion). I paired these with a powder pink, light cashmere sweater that had a deep dip in the back that was held together with a thin strap of cashmere across my shoulders.

I arranged my hair in a messy knot at the top back of my head, pulling out tendrils around my ears and neck that I hoped looked both adorable and appealing.

Then I dashed out of my bedroom, got rid of the omelet, did the minimal clean up and ran around lighting candles and lamps so the effect would be cozy and romantic.

I left Pandora on my Billie Holiday station. I wasn’t feeling the blues but Billie Holiday worked for a variety of situations.

I was pulling down plates when Mickey came back.

I watched as he caught my eyes, grinned, then looked around the house and back to me, his grin turning smug.

I didn’t care. He knew I was into him and I wanted him to know that what we’d just shared and spending time with him was important to me.

He could be smug about it. He was gorgeous.

And right then he was all mine.